o help him, but he sent him back. "No,
it's not necessary, go back." And then he added in a furtive whisper,
and it seemed as though there were a note of fear in his voice, "Go and
talk to her, you must talk to her."

"Father has drunk a little too much," said the man, with a laugh, as he
sat down at the table again. How good the coffee tasted; it had neither
been so strong nor so pure in the army. And the cakes had turned out a
great success. He nodded brightly to his stepmother, as she sat
opposite him and his friend. He felt something like gratitude rising in
his heart; it was really very nice of her to bake his favourite cakes,
and to receive Martin into the house. She was gazing at his friend the
whole time. Heigh, was she not going to cast a glance at him too? He
cleared his throat and tried to attract her attention by looking her up
and down in the same way the soldiers used to look at the girls as they
strolled past them, arm-in-arm. She was certainly a good-looking woman,
even if she were his stepmother.

But she paid no attention to her stepson, and when he at last addressed
some indifferent question to her, she started, turned crimson, and then
smiled absentmindedly. Where were her thoughts? Perhaps she felt
disheartened because his father was drunk. It could certainly not be
very agreeable for a wife. When Mikolai came to think of it, he did not
take it amiss that she seemed to have neither eyes nor ears for [Pg
187] anything. But if she did not want to talk, and only sat with her
eyes fixed on vacancy, stirring her coffee without drinking it, he
would talk to his little sister. Let Roeschen come with him and show him
the cattle in the sheds. Had the old sow, which he had purchased from
Jokisch, farrowed? And how many cows were there now?

Rosa was in a state of bliss at the thought of having her brother all
to herself. She would show him everything, and she had so much to tell
him. There was a foal, too, in the enclosure, such a pretty one. It was
the brown mare's child, and was as brown as its mother, but it had a
white star on its forehead like Mr. Jokisch's horse. She put her hand
into her brother's and drew him tenderly out of the room.

Martin Becker and Mrs. Tiralla remained alone in the room. Martin would
have liked to go out with them and look at the cattle--he took great
interest in such things--but he had remained behind on account of
shyness. The girl had not invited him, and the woman's eyes