runks are
still unstrapped."

"I'll go and send someone--but not Marie," said Anna, getting up
quickly. She had no desire to see the photograph, and the son's way of
looking at things had considerably astonished her. "It must be nearly
supper time. Would you not rather lie down and let me send you something
here? Your head must ache after crying so much. You have baptised our
new life with tears. I hope it is a good omen."

"Oh, I will come down. You will do as you promised, will you not, and
forbid the Penheim to gossip?"

"I shall tell the princess your wishes."

"Or, if she must gossip, let her tell the truth at least. If my son had
not pressed me to come here I really do not think----"

Anna went slowly and meditatively down the passage to Fraeulein
Kuhraeuber's room. For a moment she thought of omitting this last visit
altogether; she was afraid lest the Fraeulein should be in some
unlooked-for and perplexing condition of mind. Discouraged? Oh no; she
was surely not discouraged already. How had the word come into her head?
She quickened her steps. When she reached the door she remembered the
cup and the sugar-tongs. Perhaps something in the bedroom was already
broken, and the Fraeulein would be disclosed sitting in the ruins in
tears, for she was unexpectedly large, and the contents of her room were
frail. But then woe of that sort was as easily assuaged as broken
furniture was mended. It was the more complicated grief of Frau von
Treumann that she felt unable to soothe. As to that, she preferred not
to think about it at present, and barricaded her thoughts against its
image with that consoling sentence, _Tout comprendre c'est tout
pardonner._ It was a sentence she was fond of; but she had not expected
that she would need its reassurance so soon.

She opened the door, and the puckers smoothed themselves out of her
forehead at once, for here, at last, was peace. There had been no
difficulties here with bells, and straps, and Marie. The trunks had been
opened and unpacked without assistance; and when Anna came in the
contents were all put away and Fraeulein Kuhraeuber, washed and combed and
in her Sunday blouse, was sitting in an easy chair by the window
absorbed in a book. Satisfaction was written broadly on her face;
content was expressed by every lazy line of her attitude. When she saw
Anna, she got up and made a curtsey and beamed. The beams were instantly
reflected in Anna's face, and they beamed at each