bow, and in the court-yards people are trying to catch them under sieves
and with lime-twigs. They are going to be exterminated, but one or
another is still spared. How is the little elf?"

"Don't call her that!" exclaimed the widow. "Give her her Christian
name. She looks like this cloth, and since yesterday has refused to take
the milk we daily procure for her at a heavy cost. Heaven knows what
the end will be. Look at that cabbage-stalk. Half a stiver! and that
miserable piece of bone! Once I should have thought it too poor for the
dogs--and now! The whole household must be satisfied with it. For
supper I shall boil ham-rind with wine and add a little porridge to it.
And this for a giant like Peter! God only knows where he gets his
strength; but he looks like his own shadow. Maria doesn't need anything
more than a bird, but Adrian, poor fellow, often leaves the table with
tears in his eyes, yet I know he has broken many a bit of bread from his
thin slice for Bessie. It is pitiable. Yet the proverb says: 'Stretch
yourself towards the ceiling, or your feet will freeze--'Necessity knows
no law,' and 'Reserve to preserve.' Day before yesterday, like the rest,
we again gave of the little we still possessed. To-morrow, everything
beyond what is needed for the next fortnight, must be delivered up, and
Peter won't allow us to keep even a bag of flour, but what will come
then--merciful Heaven!--"

The widow sobbed aloud as she uttered the last words and continued,
weeping: "Where do you get your strength? At your age this miserable
scrap of meat is a mere drop of water on a red-hot stone."

"Herr Van Aken gives me what he can, in addition to my ration. I shall
get through; but I witnessed a terrible sight to-day at the tailor's, who
mends my clothes."