ic absurdity to look upon it as a
fine thing for a girl not to take pleasure in eating and drinking; and
drinking wine is assuredly not an unfeminine act. Isn't drinking wine a
much pleasanter thing to see than eating meat, nourishing one's self
with animal food?"

Everybody laughed except Manna, who looked at Eric with an unmoved
face. Strange how this man gives a surprising turn to every thought,
and induces surprising turns of thought in other people!

Manna felt as if she were driven out of the house by Lina's presence.

Only at Frau Dournay's, for whom Lina entertained a holy awe, could
Manna get any time for being alone; she felt herself in concealment
when she fled to the green cottage, and by this means she came nearer
to the Professorin, almost in spite of herself. Her uniform serenity of
soul, her never-failing willingness to devote herself to others, were
perceived by Manna, and she was startled at hearing her say,--

"You wanted to make a request of me, dear child. Why do you hold back?"

"I, a request? What request?"

"You would like that Lina should come here, but you avoid acknowledging
this to me and to her. If you will honestly confess to me that you
would like this, I will arrange the matter."

Manna confessed that she had not had the courage to express her wish.

By the next day Lina was settled at the cottage with the Professorin,
and there she was merry as a cricket, and enlivened the whole house
with her cheerfulness, and her fresh bubbling gaiety alone. Wherever
she was, walking, standing, or sitting, she sang to herself like a bird
on the branch, and the breasts of the hearers were refreshed. The Aunt
played an accompaniment for her songs, and the clear, bell-like tone of
her voice was full of fresh health and bright joy. She sang without the
least effort, and her love added a tone of deep feeling to her singing,
which one would not have supposed she possessed.

She was perfectly undisciplined, but she was very particular about
her dress, especially since she had been in love, and she liked to
look at herself in the glass. But to bother herself about the inner
life,--"That's not my style," was her uniform manner of speaking. She
lived her own life, was a Catholic, because she was born so, and it was
too much trouble to make any change. She laughed, sang and danced;
yesterday is gone, and to-morrow will look out for itself. Amongst all
these persons who bore a heavy burden in their souls,