happened. I love you. I am under obligations to you, but to be
imprisoned, imprisoned. The walls will press upon me, the ceiling will
seem like a weight. I don't know whether I ought to rejoice or despair.
You have great influence with the Junker. Tell him about Anna, touch his
heart, and if he would go, it would really be best for us both."

"You mean for you and your sister," replied Maria with a repellent
gesture of the hand. "There is the lamp. When the Junker comes, we
shall see each other again."

Maria went to her room and threw herself on the couch, but soon rose and
paced restlessly to and fro. Then stretching out her clasped hands, she
exclaimed:

"Oh, if he would only go, if he would only go! Merciful God! Kind,
gracious Father in Heaven, grant him every happiness, every blessing, but
save my peace of mind; let him go, and lead him far, far away from here."




CHAPTER XXV.

The tavern where Georg von Dornburg lodged stood on the "broad street,"
and was a fine building with a large court-yard, in which were numerous
vehicles. On the left of the entrance was a large open room entered
through a lofty archway. Here the drivers and other folk sat over their
beer and wine, suffering the innkeeper's hens to fly on the benches and
even sometimes on the table, here vegetables were cleaned, boiled and
fried, here the stout landlady was frequently obliged to call her sturdy