triumphant delight, distorted the woman's face--crash--they lay at the
bottom.

But not the horses and not the carriage, only Mr. Tiralla and his wife.
The clever animals had stopped short as though they recognized the
danger, and were now standing quite close to the edge, their bits
covered with foam.

"_Psia krew!_" Mr. Tiralla scrambled out of the ditch, all of a sudden
quite sober. The soft snow had felt like a downy feather bed, and he
hadn't hurt himself in the slightest. What a joke! How often he had
been upset in that ditch. H'm, if the horses hadn't been so sensible.
He patted their necks and praised them. And then he called to his wife,
"Heigh, Sophia, where have you got to?"

She did not answer. She had not hurt herself either; she lay on her
back in the ditch, snow under her, snow on both sides of her, and above
her the early morning sky, clear and rosy. She closed her eyes [Pg 107]
again; let him call her, she would remain where she was for ever.

Then she suddenly remembered that her beautiful ball-dress from that
good dressmaker in Posen might be spoiled. Her fur cloak could not keep
the snow-water out very long; she already felt it penetrating into her
shoes. Ugh, how wet and horrid it was! She would never be able to put
the dress on again. She jumped up hastily, and called to her husband to
help her. And when she had safely got out of the ditch, she shook her
skirts and examined her dress, and was delighted to find that nothing
had been spoiled.

They got into the carriage again. But now Mr. Tiralla kept his eyes
open, although he felt fit to drop with fatigue. What would Sophia say
if he were to upset her once more? "I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured,
in a crestfallen voice. She said nothing.

As they reached the gate, they found it wide open just as they had left
it. The front door was not locked either, the latch was, of course,
down, but the door had not been bolted.

"Jendrek, Marianna," shouted Mr. Tiralla, at the top of his voice. Was
nobody coming to take the horses? Where were those rascals sleeping?
And the other men, the day labourers, hadn't come yet. The farmer
scolded and groaned when he found that he would have to unharness the
horses himself and take them to the stable.

Mrs. Tiralla went into the room and called the maid. But Marianna, who
always came running so submissively when her mistress called her, did
not appear either. The woman grew so angry, that she almost tore the