ecy.

After supper, however, Rose could not refrain from asking Barefoot, if,
in case of her marrying, she would not go with her as her maid; she
would give her double wages, and at the same time she would then not
have to cross the Rhine and work in a factory. Barefoot gave an evasive
answer; for she was not inclined to go with Rose, knowing that the
latter had selfish motives for making the proposal. In the first place
she wanted to boast of the fact that she was going to get a husband,
and, indeed, a first-rate one; and in the second place she was anxious
to get Barefoot to manage her household affairs, about which she had
until then scarcely bothered herself at all. Now Barefoot would have
been very glad to do this for a mistress who was kind to her, but not
for Rose. And besides, if she were to leave her present mistress, she
did not intend to be a servant again anyway, but would work for herself,
even if it were in a factory with her brother.

Barefoot was just going to bed, when her mistress called her and
intrusted the secret to her, adding:

"You have always had patience with Rose, and now while her suitor is
here, have double patience, in order that there may be no disturbance in
the house."

"Yes, but I consider it wrong that she wants to milk the cows just this
once; that's deceiving the worthy man, for she can't milk at all."

"You and I cannot alter the world," said the mistress. "I think it's
hard enough for you to bear your own lot--let others do what they will."

Barefoot lay down, mournfully reflecting how people cheat one another
without the least scruple. She did not know who the suitor was who was
going to be deceived, but she was inwardly sorry for the poor young man.
And she was doubly bewildered when she thought: "Who knows, perhaps Rose
will be just as much deceived in him as he in her?"

Quite early in the morning, when Barefoot was looking out of her window,
she suddenly started back as if a bullet had struck her forehead.

"Heavens! What is this?" She passed her hands over her eyes hastily,
then opened them wide, and asked herself as if in a dream: "Why, it's
the stranger of the wedding at Endringen! He has come to the village! He
has come to fetch you! No, he knows nothing of you! But he shall
know!--but no, what are you saying!"

He comes nearer and nearer, but does not look up. A fullblossomed
carnation falls from Barefoot's hand, but lands on the valise behind
him; he does not s