away. "You don't
intimidate me. Go, inform against me, I'm not afraid. I"--she spread
out her arms and an enthusiastic expression transfigured [Pg 198] her
face--"I should love to suffer. Jesus Christ also suffered on the
cross. It would be no suffering for me, it would be a joy." Humbly
bending her head she made the sign of the cross.

What did she mean? Why did she say that with such fervour? Boehnke did
not understand her to-day, although he had hitherto understood her so
well. He did not guess that she was seized with an ardent desire to
suffer for her love, if necessary.

What could affect her if she only had Martin, only him? And he would
soon be hers, she felt it. The woman looked down on the man from a
triumphant height.

Boehnke eyed her in perplexity. He tried to endure her gaze, but he felt
so confused that he once more had to lower his eyes.

What a poor wretch he was, a real coward. Her voice was full of deep
contempt as she said icily, "Let me go on now, Mr. Boehnke."

"No, no," he cried, seizing hold of her dress. No, she must not leave
him in anger. He would--he did--recall everything; he had said nothing,
he knew nothing, guessed nothing. Only she must not look at him like
that, he could not bear it, it broke his heart. He almost whined as he
implored her pardon; surely she must know that he was mad,
irresponsible, that it made him furious to know that she was always
with the other man, whilst he, alas, had to remain so far away from
her.

"You needn't stay away, Mr. Boehnke."

"But I can't bear to see you with the other man," he cried. "Can't you
understand?"

Yes, she understood very well. She almost felt sorry for him now.
Jealousy is a terrible torment. Would Martin have returned from the
fields by now? [Pg 199] Would he be sitting with Rosa, or perhaps
standing about with Marianna? She grew hot and cold by turns. Both
things were dreadful, she could not permit either of them. She, who a
moment ago had been so triumphant, felt disheartened and cast down with
fear and torment and uncertainty. Oh, this uncertainty was something
dreadful; did he not care for her a thousand times more than for that
little girl? Yes, it must be true, Boehnke must be suffering too.

Her glance was full of compassion as she looked at him. How he shuffled
along; he looked like an old man, and he was so pale and emaciated,
there seemed to be no youth left in him. She laid her hand on his
sleeve. "Surely we are no