at she had
managed this affair, and thought she could now die happy; but it
proved, to her consternation, that she had ascribed to herself much
more merit than she deserved, and now she got none at all. The Landlady
soon made her feel her mistake by saying--"Well, Franzl, what do you
think about this? You had nothing to do with the affair, and I quite as
little. The young people were sharper than we were. You and I were
talking a few days ago as to what might come to pass, and all the time
behind our backs they had settled everything. I could have believed
this of Annele, but not of Lenz. But it is better so; and as God has
willed it, let us thank him for his goodness."

Franzl stood with her mouth and eyes wide open, but she was obliged to
go home without a scrap of praise or anything else, and Annele scarcely
condescended to notice her.--Then Pilgrim came.

Annele behaved in a very different manner to Pilgrim than she had done
to Faller. She knew that he did not like her; but before he had said a
single word she thanked him for his warm sympathy, and Pilgrim treated
the whole affair in a good-humoured and facetious manner, hinting that
no man was to be trusted, or Lenz would not have kept the matter so
close. He thought he thus saved his conscience, and yet did not disturb
what was now a settled thing.

But the toughest wood to saw through, yet remained: this was
Petrowitsch; and the father resolved to be present. When Petrowitsch
came as usual to dinner, he affected to know nothing. The Landlord
communicated the fact to him officially, and said that Lenz was
expected every minute to dinner. Annele was very childlike and
submissive to the old man, and seemed almost as if she intended to
throw herself on her knees to ask his blessing. He stretched out his
hand kindly to her. The Landlady, too, wished to get hold of his hand,
but she only succeeded in grasping two fingers of his left hand. Lenz
was glad when he came, to find all going on so smoothly. He was only
vexed that Pilgrim, who had spoken so much against them all, should be
seated at the same table; but Pilgrim seemed quite unconcerned, so Lenz
was soon the same.

The sky looked down sourly on Lenz's betrothal: it rained incessantly
for several days following. The rain kept trickling on like one of
those incessant talkers who chatter without ceasing. Lenz was of course
constantly at the "Lion" Inn, where everything was so comfortable, and
every one as well