lready forgiven her. She
saw more plainly day by day--almost hour by hour--that Mr. Tiralla was
drifting quickly, uninterruptedly to his end. She often longed to fold
her hands in her exceeding [Pg 280] gratitude; she went about the whole
day with prayers of thankfulness on her lips.

Marianna was rather astonished to find that her mistress took the
schoolmaster's departure so coolly. Had there never been anything
between them? Neither formerly nor lately? Anyhow, she seemed very
indifferent about it. Now Mr. Mikolai had a much softer heart, for he
was very much cut up when he heard that the man had left. At first he
had opened his eyes in surprise, but then he had pressed his hands to
his head and groaned, "I would never have thought it; oh, dear, if I
had only known it!" What a good fellow Mikolai was. He would in time be
just what his father used to be. And Marianna was more attentive than
ever to him.

Meanwhile Mikolai went about looking very troubled. He had certainly
not wanted to do that, he had only wanted to give Boehnke a reminder
when he thrashed him and threw him into the ditch. It also grieved him
bitterly for his father's sake; the old man had been so fond of the
schoolmaster, who used to spend hours with him like a friend. And now
his little Boehnke would never come again. He felt so sorry for his
father that he thought he must speak to him about it.

But Mr. Tiralla listened to his son's stammering excuses without
understanding them. "Schoolmaster--schoolmaster?" He shook his head. "I
don't know any schoolmaster. Friend--friend? Have--no--friend."

Mikolai shuddered when he looked at his father. There he sat with
loose, hanging lip, and eyes the eyeballs of which looked as rigid as
though he could not move them any more. He was not like a human being
any longer. Did he not remember anything? [Pg 281] He seized the old
man by the shoulder and shook him, "Father!" Then Mr. Tiralla shrunk
together in his corner like a hedgehog when you put the tip of your
finger near it, and shot nervous glances at his son, glances in which
there was malevolence as well as fear.

Mikolai felt desperate; the man only answered with a grunt now, it was
impossible to explain anything to him. He felt as though something were
choking him, he was obliged to run out of the stuffy room into the
biting north-east wind that swept across the yard from the open fields
and whirled the straw and chaff and feathers about that were ly