carriage."

And Barbara wrung the sheet until there was not a drop of water in it.
It had come now!

She went in and dressed the child; she hardly knew what she was doing,
and hardly felt it under her hands.

She saw the man give six dollars to the tinsmith's wife. He was so stiff
and tall and distinguished-looking, with such a big, aristocratic nose,
and he made a kind of bend every time she happened to look at him, and
assured her that there was no hurry--not the least! They never woke
before nine at the Consul's, so there was still plenty of time. And then
he looked at his watch.

And every time he looked at his watch, she looked at her boy: there were
now orders and a time fixed for her to leave him.

He had fallen asleep again. If he were to wake, she did not know what
would happen--she was sure she could not leave him then.

"No hurry, no hurry!" and he took the thick silver watch out of his
pocket once more.

But now it was she who was in a hurry, and so eager that she gave
herself no time to look round before she was seated in the carriage, and
the long, stiff-necked, braided coachman was driving her away along the
road of her appointed destiny.

In the summer she accompanied the Consul-General's family to a