me soon
again--but go now. What do I look like?" She smoothed her hair with her
hands. "I mustn't look like that--the others can soon be here--go, go."
She pushed him to the door almost by force.

He would not have minded, he would have stopped even if the others had
come--what did he care for other people and their thoughts? What did it
matter that he had told Mr. Tiralla he had something to do and would
have to stop at home?

But she begged him pathetically, "Go, for my sake. If you love me, go."

[Pg 185]

So he crept out of the room. But when he came to the front door, over
which Rosa's pretty green wreath was hanging, he stood still once more.
There was nobody to disturb them, not a human being in sight. He
besought her hesitatingly not to send him away without at least one
kiss.

Then she gave him one.

It was high time the schoolmaster went, for hardly had Mrs. Tiralla
cooled her cheeks with water and smoothed her hair once more when the
carriage drove into the yard with cracking of whips, rattling of
wheels, and much hallooing.

Mikolai was standing erect in front--or was it not Mikolai who was
driving so smartly, and who now drew up before the front door, whilst
the horses were going at full trot, and jumped off? No, it was not
Mikolai, for he was sitting behind with his father, and had his little
sister between his knees. But now he also jumped down, went up to his
stepmother, who was standing in the doorway, and held out his hand.

She kissed him on both cheeks and smiled at him. He also smiled, and
she felt that the reception had pleased him.

"Here we are," shouted Mr. Tiralla. "Mikolai, my son, help me down from
this confounded conveyance." They all helped him.

"Oh, mummy, how dreadful!" whispered Rosa to her mother as she clung to
her. "I believe daddy has been drinking too much. He stopped
everywhere."

"That doesn't matter," answered Mrs. Tiralla, pushing her daughter
aside. Then she bade her son's friend, Martin Becker, who had driven so
smartly, a smiling welcome.

Mr. Tiralla had indeed overdone it. He felt very unwell. As they all
sat drinking coffee round the [Pg 186] festive-looking table, on which
a coloured cloth had been spread, he looked at them with doll eyes. "So
now we're all together again." Then he nodded to his son and got up.
"I'll lie down a little on my bed. Send Marianna to help me. _Psia
krew!_" He yawned, and staggered to the door.

His son jumped up and wanted t