ey were back at the farm again. Marianna was singing as she
rattled the pots and pans, Mikolai stood laughing by the kitchen fire,
but Rosa's face continued to wear a dreamy, radiant expression.
Although she was always such an obedient, conscientious child, it did
not affect her in the slightest when her brother shouted to her from
the kitchen, "Your mother has been looking for you for such a long
time; she's very cross. Where have you been?" She did not notice her
mother's eyes resting on her with a piercing expression; she did not
feel the oppressive silence that reigned at supper that evening.

Mrs. Tiralla kept an obstinate silence; she seemed so low-spirited that
the men involuntarily became low-spirited, too--that is, Mr. Tiralla
and Mikolai. Becker's eyes were fixed on his plate; he was quiet and
happy, and ate with a good appetite. What did he care if the woman was
in a bad humour? Let the old man and Mikolai dance to her piping, he
would not. And then the thought came to him that a girl like Rosa would
never want to order about, and that a man would fare well with a wife
like her: always united, and many children, and, and--he did not get
any further. He felt a glance resting on him that weighed him down, so
that he could no longer think of all those pleasant things.

Mrs. Tiralla kept her eyes fixed on the young man; her brows were
contracted, her lips pouting. She felt so scornful, so angry. So he
preferred that chit to her! But then her scorn melted and a world of
love, grief, longing, and even humility lay in her glance. If only he
would look at her, only for one [Pg 209] short moment. Ah, now he was
looking up--her glance had drawn him--he had to look at her, was
obliged to.

At that moment, when she was glowing with happiness, she became a most
dangerous temptress. A seductive smile parted her lips, her eyes shone
in radiant splendour. She had never been so beautiful, never so
amiable.

Even Mr. Tiralla profited by her radiant smiles; he simply basked in
them. She was looking at him so kindly; ah, there was not another woman
who could be compared with his Sophia. Her smile intoxicated him. What
did it matter that she had often been very horrid to him? Pooh! that
was all forgotten now, it was some nonsense that he must have dreamt.
She had certainly been very strange at times--h'm, very strange, but
to-day she was an angel. He even forgot to drink when he looked at her.
He kissed the tips of his finger