herself.

"Where is Beate?" she asked the maid.

"With the master, in the garden."

The mother set out to find her, for she needed to fold her child in her
arms, and went through the house into the garden.

When she drew near the great lime-tree, which was now in full bloom and
looked like a fine golden net shot through with glimmering golden
pearls, she heard the powerful laugh of her lord and master, and the
sweet voice of her child like the twitter of birds answering it.

"Tubby," he cried in his mighty bass, "you're a little rogue!" The
child laughed aloud.

With disquiet and emotion the mother drew nearer. On the wide bench
under the tree sat the captain, a bottle of wine by his side. He was
making the child drink from his glass.

"The youngster has a good capacity," he muttered with a grin. "Now
dance some more, Tubby!" The child skipped and danced, her red-gold
hair tumbling about her flushed face. "Confounded little witch! A
regular soldier's girl!" the merry old fellow growled in his red beard.
And the evening glow shone upon the red beard of the father and the red
wealth of hair of the dancing child.

"They are of one blood," she said to herself; and she stood as if
everything were over already, and she only a departed spirit watching.

Then anger, a deadly anger, rose up in her. She rushed at her husband.
"What are you doing to her?" she cried in anguish. "Look--only look!
You've let her drink too much! Oh ...!"

"Well, what of it?" said the captain with a thick tongue, taken aback
by the sudden onslaught.

Little Beate stopped dancing, frightened, and looked at them with
strange, doubtful eyes.

"Oh, you finicky creatures! What wishy-washy stuff! Women are fools! I
should think a fellow might be allowed ..." growled Herr Rauchfuss.

The child made an odd movement, stretched out her arms to her mother,
staggered and fell, her face hidden by her arms, sobbing. The mother
bent anxiously over her.

"There, Tubby--don't be a baby!" stammered the old man. "You ought to
be ashamed of yourself--a good stomach isn't upset by a couple of
mouthfuls! You a soldier's daughter!"

The mother took the little girl in her arms and carried her to the
house, paying no more attention to Herr Rauchfuss, who looked after her
with a forced laugh.

In the room where she and the child slept, she laid Beate, still
dressed, on the bed. The child kept on sobbing; her face was burning,
and her eyes glowed as with fev