But Mrs. Tiralla did not ask why. The cup rattled in her hand, and as
she stepped back from the bed she trembled so that she had to sit down
on the nearest chair. She closed her eyes for a moment. But when she
opened them again and saw the man's questioning looks, she gave him a
sweet, almost timid smile, and said, "I'm not very strong. Such things
affect me so. Oh, what a fright it gave me."

As they were going down the steep, dark stairs, she felt for his arm.
"Lead me, Jendrek, I can't walk alone. Oh, poor Marianna!"

[Pg 53]

CHAPTER IV

The winter was long in Starydwor, and the winter was the season of the
year which Mrs. Tiralla liked least, for her husband would spend almost
the whole day at home. He grew more and more lazy; he would not even go
out shooting. "Why should I shoot hares?" he would say. "I can buy them
very cheaply; any 'komornik' will kill one for me. I would much rather
stop at home with Sophia."

Beautiful Mrs. Tiralla had grown thin during the course of the winter,
"as slender as a fairy," said Mr. Schmielke, the tax-collector. The
gentry used to meet at the inn every evening and discuss the most
important events of the day; and as nothing much happened in
Starawie['s], Gradewitz, and neighbourhood, they would speak of Mrs.
Tiralla. This they did rather often, for the men considered her the
most interesting topic of conversation in Starawie['s], Gradewitz, and
the neighbourhood.

"By Jove, how beautiful that woman is!" some one would exclaim; and
then another would add, "What a pity that that old fool has got her."

"There's nothing to be done," sighed the tax-collector, who had served
in the guards at Potsdam, and had always been accustomed to carry
everything before him on account of his smartness. "Absolutely nothing
to be done, gentlemen. I've already had a try; but, to tell you the
truth, she has sent me to [Pg 54] the right about. Ah, the fair
Sophia!" He stroked his moustache and tilted his chair as far back as
he could, in order to look into the tap-room and wink at the clumsy
little country-girl who was helping the landlord behind the bar.

Mr. Boehnke, the schoolmaster, was very much put out. There was this
Prussian, who had fallen from the clouds into their loyal Polish
district, and at once imagined that he could win the most beautiful
woman for himself. But such a rose was not meant for a fellow like
him--a fellow with no education wor