ed clever
little speeches Annele made. Lenz was sometimes standing beside her,
but he could not bring out a single word. Those who did not know him,
thought him shy and simple; but he had a great aversion to this giving
and accepting of presents, and all the fine speeches it entailed.

It was now the turn of the poor clockmakers, tributaries of the
Landlord, whom he kept well under his thumb, and whose work he bought,
to send off to distant countries. Annele took no notice of them, but
they addressed Lenz respectfully, and expressed their great
satisfaction that a clockmaker had now become the son-in-law of the
Landlord of the "Lion." Many hoped, on this account, to get better
terms from the Landlord, and others asked Lenz direct if he intended to
give up his business, and to become a partner in the Inn. They smiled
when Lenz declared he meant to remain just what he always had been.
When these poor people, who even by their daily labour of fourteen
hours, could only manage to live at all by the most extraordinary
frugality and self-denial, and who looked thin and ill,--when even
these worthy people, thought it indispensable to thrust their
half-gulden pieces, and even smaller coin into Lenz's hand, as their
bridal gifts, he felt as if he were handling burning coals. He would
gladly have given back the money to the poor people, but he dared not
offend them. He mentioned this feeling to Annele, when he could succeed
in speaking to her for a moment.

She looked at him in surprise, and said, shaking her head: "My father
is right,--you are no man of business. You can work and gain your
own living, but you don't understand letting others work for your
advantage. You are too fond of asking, 'How does so and so get on?' and
that is no use. We must all drive straight on in this world, and never
stop to inquire who it is that we pass on the road barefooted. But this
is not the moment to lecture you. Oh! here comes the dear Landlady of
the 'Lamb!' Better late than never! Though last, not least! I have been
thinking of you all day, and only a few moments since I said to my
mother: What can have become of that excellent Landlady of the 'Lamb,'
from Edelshof? Half my pleasure would have been destroyed if you had
not come to my wedding-feast! I suppose this is your daughter-in-law?
Where is her husband?"

"He is still below with the horses. We scarcely know how to find stable
room today."

"Yes; I am thankful to say we have many