servitor. She did not vouchsafe them a word, yet neither did she allow
any of them to render her even the most trivial service. But she could
not escape Seifried, the equerry of her mistress's eldest son. At first,
according to her custom, she had roused the handsome fellow's hopes by
fiery glances which she could not restrain. Now he felt that she cared
for him, and in his honest fashion offered to make her his beloved wife;
but she refused his suit, at first kindly, then angrily. As he still
persisted she begged the housekeeper, though she saw that matchmaking was
her delight, to keep him away.

Even in March Frau Sophia thanked Lienhard for the new inmate of her
household, who far exceeded her expectations. In April her praise became
still warmer, only she regretted that Kuni's pretty face was losing its
fresh colour and her well-formed figure its roundness. She was sorry,
too, that she so often seemed lost in thought, and appeared less merry
while playing with the children.

Lienhard and his young wife excused the girl's manner. Comfortable as she
was now, she was still a prisoned bird. It would be unnatural, nay,
suspicious, if she did not sometimes long for the old freedom and her
former companions. She would also remember at times the applause of the
multitude. The well-known Loni, her former employer, had besought him to
win her back to his company, complaining loudly of her loss, because it
was difficult to replace her with an equally skilful young artist. It was
now evident how mistaken the juggler had been when he asserted that Kuni,
who was born among vagrants, would never live in a respectable family.
He, Lienhard, had great pleasure in knowing that the girl, on the road to
ruin, had been saved by Frau Sophia's goodness.

Lienhard's father had died shortly after Kuni entered her new home. Every
impulse to love dalliance, she felt, must shrink before this great
sorrow. The idea sustained her hopes. She could not expect him to seek
her again until the first bitterness of grief for the loss of this
beloved relative had passed away. She could wait, and she succeeded in
doing so patiently.

But week after week went by and there was no change in his conduct. Then
a great anxiety overpowered her, and this did not escape his notice; for
one day, while his young wife hung on his arm and added a few brief words
of sympathy, he asked Kuni if she was ill or if she needed anything; but
she answered curtly in the nega