," sighed Mrs. Tiralla, as she began once more to comb out
her tangled hair, and she tore at it so savagely that at last her
silky, black tresses clung to her white temples in big, smooth waves.
Then she twisted the plaits in a huge coil at the nape of her neck;
that was the way she had worn her hair in her girlhood, and that suited
her best.

"By Jove, you look like a little girl, my love," smirked her husband
from his seat, on the bench near the stove, where he was lying as usual
in spite of his clean shirt, black coat, and hair covered with pomade.
"Many people will envy me to-night."

She did not answer; she felt annoyed with him. Wasn't it disgraceful of
him to lie there in his new, clean clothes, just as though he had his
greasy, everyday coat on?

[Pg 87]

"How beautiful, oh, how beautiful," whispered Rosa, who had crept out
of her corner and was kneeling before her mother with both hands raised
as though worshipping her. Mrs. Tiralla had now put her ball-dress on,
and the snowy-white gauze fell round her like a fleecy cloud. She
thought herself that she looked beautiful, just like a young girl. Ah!
A slight but burning pain made her tremble. How sad to think that all
this beauty was to wither away at her husband's side--always at her
husband's side. All at once she was seized with a violent fit of fury,
one of those sudden attacks which deprived her for a time of her
senses. "Get up," she said to Rosa coldly, as the child gently stroked
her dress. "Get up. Why do you do that? You're soiling my dress."

Rosa began to cry.

"Why do you frighten her so?" exclaimed Mr. Tiralla reproachfully; he
could not bear to hear his daughter cry. "Come here, my Roeschen, my
little lady-bird; leave your mother, she's in a bad humour to-day. Come
to me, Roeschen, my sweetheart, come; take hold of my coat, you won't
soil that."

"Yes, go, go!" and the woman dragged her dress so violently away from
the clinging hands that a flounce came undone. Then she grew still more
furious, for now the dress would have to be sewn. She scolded Rosa in a
loud voice, and the child gazed at her with a strange look in her
dilated eyes. Could angels scold as well? Alas, she must have done
something very bad, must have been a very good-for-nothing girl if the
angel scolded her. She crept back into her corner sobbing in a subdued
fashion.

"That's right, be angry, it suits you," said Mr. Tiralla, laughing.

Neither of the parents took any m