learned this, for he had often met her in Frau Sophia's house since his
father's funeral. The child of the highway had never been taught to
conceal her feelings and maintain timid reserve. Her eyes had told him
eloquently enough, first her deep sympathy, and afterward the emotions
which so passionately stirred her heart. Had the feelings which her
glances were intended to reveal passed merely for the ardent gratitude of
an impassioned soul?

Gratitude! For what?

His lukewarm interest had tempted her from a free, gay life, full of
constant excitement, into the oppressive, wearisome monotony of this
quiet house, where she was dying of ennui. How narrow, how petty, how
tiresome everything seemed, and what she had bartered for it was the
world, the whole wide, wide world. As the chicken lured the fox, the hope
of satisfying the fervent longing of her heart, though even once and for
a few brief moments, had brought her into the snare. But the fire which
burned within had not been extinguished. An icy wind had fanned the
flames till they blazed higher and higher, threatening her destruction.

Frau Schurstab had made her attend church and go to the confessional. But
the mass, whose meaning she did not understand, offered no solace to the
soul which yearned for love alone. Besides, it wearied her to remain so
long in the same place, and the confession forced the girl, who had never
shrunk from honestly expressing what she felt, into deception. The priest
to whom she was taken was a frequent visitor at the Schurstab house, and
she would have died ere she would have confided to him the secret of her
heart. Besides, to her the feeling which animated her was no sin. She had
not summoned it. It had taken possession of her against her will and
harmed no one except herself, not even the wife who was so sure of her