ttered a cry of joy and stretched out her
arms.

It had grown dusk outside and the low room was already in darkness, but
the picture shone with a wondrous splendour before Rosa's eyes. She
writhed on the floor, her delicate body trembled with pain and ecstatic
happiness.

When Marianna came upstairs to dress--for Mr. Mikolai had promised
faithfully to take a short walk in the fields with her after
supper--she found the Paninka lying on the floor, pale and almost
fainting, as though all the blood had left her body. Poor little thing!
The maid lifted the light body on to the bed and began to undress her.

But Rosa resisted with a wail and kept firm hold of her clothes. She
would not come down to supper either, she wanted to be alone, quite
alone with Him.

"With whom?" asked Marianna inquisitively. But she received no answer.

The young girl lay on her bed, pale and with a faraway look in her
eyes. Marianna cast a glance at her in which there lay both fear and
reverence--dear, dear, was that to begin again? She made the sign of
the cross and then, as no sound came from Rosa and she seemed to be
sleeping, hastily made herself smart, put on a dean cap and her beads
with all the long, gay-coloured ribbons round her neck--Mr. Mikolai
would approve of her now--and hurried downstairs, humming a song.

[Pg 233]

Nobody missed Rosa at supper. The evening was so warm, so mild and
alluring that it had turned all their heads.

Even Mr. Tiralla, who otherwise would have asked for his little
daughter, did not give her a thought. True, he was sitting at the
table, but his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and he neither saw nor heard
anybody. It appeared as if he might fall off his chair at any moment.

Martin Becker was filled with aversion as he looked at him; it was a
shame, a disgrace to drink like that. He turned his eyes away. Then he
flashed a tender glance at Mrs. Tiralla; poor, dear woman, if only he
could carry her away in his arms, away from him, away from all this
foulness! Would to God he could get away from it all! But they could
not run away together, and so he, too, must stay to please her. It was
not easy; it was no honour to serve such a fellow, as he had done now
for well-nigh three-quarters of a year. But he was doing it to please
Mikolai and her--yes, her. He had to stop.

The woman now cast a look at him as though she had guessed his
thoughts. She did not thank him in words, but the thanks lay in her
eyes.