pending danger, had stirred her whole soul, wounded her to
the inmost depths of her heart. She felt humiliated, and, if not
misunderstood, at least unappreciated by the man for whose sake she
rejoiced, whenever she perceived a lofty aspiration or noble emotion in
her own soul. What avail is personal loveliness to the beautiful wife of
a blind man; of what avail to Maria was the rich treasure buried in her
bosom, if her husband would not see and bring it to the surface! "Show
him, tell him how lofty are your feelings," urged love; but womanly pride
exclaimed: "Do not force upon him what he disdains to seek."

So the hours passed, bringing her neither sleep, peace, nor the desire to
forget the humiliation inflicted upon her.

At last Peter entered the room, stepping lightly and cautiously, in order
not to wake her. She pretended to be asleep, but with half-closed eyes
could see him distinctly. The lamp-light fell upon his face, and the
lines she had formerly perceived looked like deep shadows between his
eyes and mouth. They impressed upon his features the stamp of heavy,
sorrowful anxiety, and reminded Maria of the "too hard" and "if I can
only bear it," he had murmured in his sleep the night before. Then he
approached her bed and stood there a long time; she no longer saw him,
for she kept her eyes tightly closed, but the first loving glance, with
which he gazed down upon her, had not escaped her notice. It continued to
beam before her mental vision, and she thought she felt that he was
watching and praying for her as if she were a child.

Sleep had long since overpowered her husband, while Maria lay gazing at
the glimmering dawn, as wakeful as if it were broad day. For the sake of
his love she would forgive much, but she could not forget the humiliation
she had experienced. "A toy," she said to herself, "a work of art which
we enjoy, is placed in security when danger threatens the house; the axe
and the bread, the sword and the talisman that protects us, in short
whatever we cannot dispense with while we live, we do not release from
our hands till death comes. She was not necessary, indispensable to him.
If she had obeyed his wish and left him, then--yes, then--"

Here the current of her thoughts was checked, for the first time she
asked herself the question: "Would he have really missed your helping
hand, your cheering word?"

She turned restlessly, and her heart throbbed anxiously, as she told
herself that she ha