had
transported myself in spirit to the accustomed place. I could hear them
speaking, hear them abusing me; it even seemed as though they were
ridiculing me. Suddenly I heard a rustling at the door; it opened, and a
woman entered. It was Barbara. I sat riveted to my chair, as though I
beheld a ghost. She was pale, and carried a bundle under her arm. When
she had reached the middle of the room she remained standing, looked at
the bare walls and the wretched furniture, and heaved a deep sigh. Then
she went to the wardrobe which stood on one side against the wall,
opened her bundle containing some shirts and handkerchiefs--she had been
attending to my laundry during the past few weeks--and pulled out the
drawer. When she beheld the meagre contents she lifted her hands in
astonishment, but immediately began to arrange the linen and put away
the pieces she had brought, whereupon she stepped back from the bureau.
Then she looked straight at me and, pointing with her finger to the open
drawer, she said, 'Five shirts and three handkerchiefs. I'm bringing
back what I took away.' So saying she slowly closed the drawer, leaned
against the wardrobe, and began to cry aloud. It almost seemed as though
she were going to faint, for she sat down on a chair beside the wardrobe
and covered her face with her shawl. By her convulsive breathing I could
see that she was still weeping. I had approached her softly and took her
hand, which she willingly left in mine. But when, in order to make her
look up, I moved my hand up to the elbow of her limp arm, she rose
quickly, withdrew her hand, and said in a calm voice, 'Oh, what's the
use of it all? You've made yourself and us unhappy; but yourself most of
all, and you really don't deserve any pity'--here she became more
agitated--'since you're so weak that you can't manage your own affairs
and so credulous that you trust everybody, a rogue as soon as an honest
man--and yet I'm sorry for you! I've come to bid you farewell. You may
well look alarmed. And it's all your doing. I've got to go out among
common people, something that I've always dreaded; but there's no help
for it. I've shaken hands with you, so farewell, and forever!' I saw the
tears coming to her eyes again, but she shook her head impatiently and
went out. I felt rooted to the spot. When she had reached the door she
turned once more and said, 'Your laundry is now in order. Take good care
of it, for hard times are coming!' And then she r