omise as the first notes of
the nightingale, which the gardener hears at the end of a long winter.
It was spring again in the house, and her pleasant round face, in its
large cap, looked as bright and unclouded as a sunflower amid its green
leaves, as she called to Maria:

"This is a good day for you, child; we'll melt down the butter and salt
the hams."

The words sounded as joyous as if she had offered her an invitation to
Paradise, and Maria willingly helped in the work, which began at once.
When the widow moved her hands, tongues could not remain silent, and the
conversation that had probably taken place between Peter and his wife
excited her curiosity not a little.

She turned the conversation upon him cleverly enough, and, as if
accidentally, asked the question:

"Did he apologize for his departure on the anniversary of your
wedding-day?"

"I know the reason; he could not stay."

"Of course not, of course not; but whoever is green the goats eat. We
mustn't allow the men to go too far. Give, but take also. An injustice
endured is a florin, for which in marriage a calf can be bought."

"I will not bargain with Peter, and if anything weighed heavily on my
mind, I have willingly forgotten it after so long a separation."

"Wet hay may destroy a barn, and any one to whom the hare runs can catch
him! People ought not to keep their troubles to themselves, but tell
them; that's why they have tongues, and yesterday was the right time to
make a clean breast of everything that grieves you."

"He was in such a joyous mood when he came home, and then: Why do you
think I feel unhappy?"

"Unhappy. Who said so?"

Maria blushed, but the widow seized the knife and opened the hen-coop.

Trautchen was helping the two ladies in the kitchen, but she was
frequently interrupted in her work, for this morning the knocker on
the door had no rest, and those who entered must have brought the
burgomaster no pleasant news, for his deep, angry voice was often
audible.

His longest discussion was with Herr Van Hout, who had come to him,
not only to ask questions and tell what occurred, but also to make
complaints.

It was no ordinary spectacle, when these two men, who, towering far
above their fellow-citizens, not only in stature, but moral earnestness
and enthusiastic devotion to the cause of liberty, declared their
opinions and expressed their wrath. The inflammable, restless Van Hout
took the first part, the slow, steadfast V