flattered her vanity and reconciled her to the step which she had taken
and already began to regret.

But suppose he really felt no more for her than the forester who finds a
child lost in the woods, and guides it into the right path? How would she
endure that? Yet, were it otherwise, if he was like the rest of men, if
he profited by what her whole manner must betray to him, how should she
face his wife, who undoubtedly would soon come to call on her aunt?

All these questions roused a tumult of unprecedented violence in her
young, ardent, inexperienced soul, which was renewed each successive
night. It became more and more difficult for her to understand why she
had left Loni's band and entered into relations for which she was not
suited, and in which she could never, never be at ease or feel happy.

Nothing was lacking in this wealthy household, not even kindness and
love. Frau Sophia was indulgent and friendly, even when Kuni, whose heart
and brain were occupied with so many other thoughts, neglected or forgot
anything. The matron's grandchildren, of whom she often had charge, soon
became warmly attached to her. While among the rope-dancers she had been
fond of children, and many a little one who journeyed with the band held
out its arms to her more joyously than to its own mother. There was
something in her nature that attracted them. Besides, her skilful hands
could show them many a rare trick, and she could sing numerous songs new
to the Schurstab boys and girls, which she had picked up here and there.
Then, too, she permitted many a prank which no one else would have
allowed. Her duties connected with the household linen and the poultry
yard, its owner's pride, were so easily performed, that in her leisure
hours she often voluntarily helped the housekeeper. At first the latter
eyed her askance, but she soon won her affection. Both she and her