himself at the splendid idea. But then he turned scarlet,
although there was nobody watching him, only the starry heavens above
him, and around him the deserted, sleeping village. He was overcome
with shame, for he felt that it was not right of him to move Rebecca up
and down just to please himself. But then he stifled all qualms. What
did it matter to that girl, who was so dirty, so stupid, so utterly
neglected, even if she did go down to the bottom? It was of no
importance to her. And he--he must go to the ball.

Boehnke dreamt that night of the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla. She wore a silk
dress, and had given him a decoration in the cotillon. He stretched out
an eager hand, and she pinned the gold paper-star on his breast. And
then she clung to him, the silk dress gave way, and her white bosom
opened like a book. "Read it," she said, smiling, "we two understand
each other."

It was a confused dream, for then followed all kinds of nonsense which
the young man could no longer remember when he awoke.

He went to school next morning feeling like a schoolboy who carries his
first poem to his beloved one in his [Pg 68] pocket, and is longing
impatiently to give it to her. Although he had gone to bed very late
the evening before, he had got up early and had twice written a note to
Mrs. Tiralla. He had not been satisfied with it the first time, and
had therefore written it again. Rosa was now to take it to her. But
when he went into the schoolroom his eyes sought in vain for the pale,
absent-looking face under the mass of curly hair. All the brown,
snub-nosed, sly-looking faces were there, but Rosa Tiralla was wanting.
This was a great disappointment. He was more harsh and impatient than
ever that day; he required his questions to be answered at once,
without any hesitation, otherwise he took the first book he could lay
hands on and hurled it over the forms. He could scarcely contain
himself, he felt so irritable. Why the deuce had that red-haired girl
just stopped away that day?

As Rosa was again absent the next day and the day after that, and as
none of the children could tell him the reason why, he came to a
decision--he would go to Starydwor. She must be ill. Would it not be
the proper thing for him to make personal inquiries about his pupil?

The crows were cawing over his head as he endeavoured to find the path
over the snow-clad fields. He could hardly see it, for there was only a
very faint trace left of the cart t