e as good as alone.

Mikolai had gone out somewhat earlier. He had stood a short time at the
front door whistling softly, but when the whistling had ceased and
Marianna's clatter was no longer heard in the kitchen, the two had
nodded to each other with a smile, as much as to say, "We understand,"
and had also got up from their seats and gone out as the others had
done.

They wandered slowly along hand-in-hand. Mrs. Tiralla never dreamt of
fearing that anybody should see them; she walked calmly along in her
light-coloured dress that could be seen afar off in the flat fields in
spite of the twilight.

Martin did not feel so calm. "If anybody were to see us!" he said, as
figures, more suspected than actually seen, appeared and disappeared
among the corn. "There are still people about."

"Leave them," she said, with a smile. "Come, put your arm round me.
Lead me, I should love to be led wherever you want to go. I'll close my
eyes, and then I shall neither see the sky nor the fields nor anything
more; I shall only feel you." She clung to his arm that was round her.
Oh, to wander like this through eternity. Her heart was filled with
ineffable rapture; this was better than heavenly bliss. She had now no
longer the glowing wish to kiss him as she had done formerly, to press
her mouth to his fresh lips, so that neither of them had any breath
left; oh, no, she would blush if she were to do that now. The
passionate longing which had tormented her until she possessed him no
longer tortured her. Now she was [Pg 236] his and he hers, now they
were like the angels in Paradise, who live in bliss.

He led her into the Przykop. But when he caught her to his heart in a
wild embrace behind the first bushes, she repulsed him. "No, not like
that." She was no love whom he had picked up in the street, she was his
bride, his wife, and when they later on went to heaven, she wanted to
stand pure before the throne of God.

Martin Becker was speechless; he did not know what to answer to this.
He understood how to kiss, but he did not understand this. It all
seemed very strange. Why had she sought him then, hung on his looks?
Why had she immediately fallen into his arms like a ripe apple, which
only requires a slight touch, if she had become so prudish all at once,
as chaste as one whom you have to teach what love is? Why, even little
Rosa could not have been more chaste.

He had to sit down on the moss by her side and only touch her hand. T