ld be unbearable. And since Anna came there had been nothing but
humiliations. First the dinner to the Manskes, from which they had been
excluded--Frau Dellwig grew hot all over at the recollection of the
Sunday gathering succeeding it; then the renovation of the _Schloss_
without the least reference to them, without the smallest asking for
advice or help; then the frequent communications with the pastor,
putting him quite out of his proper position, the confidence placed in
him, the ridiculous respect shown him, his connection with the mad
charitable scheme; and now, most dreadful of all, this obstinacy in
regard to the brick-kiln. It was becoming clear that they were fairly on
the way to being pitied by the neighbours. Pitied! Horrid thought. The
great thing in life was to be so situated that you can pity others. But
to be pitied yourself? Oh, thrice-accursed folly of old Joachim, to
leave Kleinwalde to a woman! Frau Dellwig could not sleep that night for
hating Anna. She lay awake staring into the darkness with hot eyes, and
hating her with a heartiness that would have petrified that unconscious
young woman as she sat about a stone's throw off in her bedroom,
motionless in the chair into which she had dropped on first coming
upstairs, too tired even to undress, after her long struggle with Frau
Dellwig's husband. "The _Englaenderin_ will ruin us!" cried Frau Dellwig
suddenly, unable to hate in silence any longer.

"_Wie? Was?_" exclaimed Dellwig, who had dozed off, and was startled.

"She will--she will!" cried his wife.

"Will what? Ruin us? The _Englaenderin_? _Ach was--Unsinn._ _She_ can be
managed. It is Lohm who is the danger. It is Lohm who will ruin us. If
we could get rid of him----"

"_Ach Gott_, if he would die!" exclaimed Frau Dellwig, with fervent
hands raised heavenwards. "_Ach Gott_, if he would only die!"

"_Ach Gott, ach Gott!_" mimicked her husband irritably, for he disliked
being suddenly awakened. "People never die when anything depends on it,"
he grumbled, turning over on his side. And he cursed Axel several times,
and went to sleep.

CHAPTER XVIII

The philosopher tells us that, after the healing interval of sleep, we
are prepared to meet each other every morning as gods and goddesses; so
fresh, so strong, so lusty, so serene, did he consider the newly-risen
and the some-time separated must of necessity be. It is a pleasing
belief; and Experience, that hopelessly prosaic governess