and her husband could do with the property what they pleased: they
would inherit it, however, only if worthy of inheriting it; if unworthy,
it would go to their children, and if there were none, to other
relatives, with the exception of the lawful portion. Neither did the
shoemaker demand anything, but proudly gave the dyer to understand that
he had cared but for his beautiful daughter and that he was able to
maintain her as she had been maintained at home. And when she was his
wife, he gave her clothes not only finer than those the women of Gschaid
and the Gschaid valley owned, but also than she had ever worn at home.
And as to food and drink, he insisted on having it better, and her
treatment more considerate than she had enjoyed in her own father's
house. Moreover, in order to show his independence of his father-in-law,
he bought more and more ground with his savings so that he came to own a
goodly property.

Now, the natives of Gschaid rarely leave their valley, as has been
remarked--hardly even traveling to Millsdorf from which they are
separated by customs as well as by mountain-ridges; besides, it never
happens that a man leaves his valley to settle in a neighboring
one--though settlements at greater distances do take place; neither does
a woman or a girl like to emigrate from one valley into another, except
in the rather rare cases when she follows her love and as wife joins her
husband in another valley. So it happened that the dyer's daughter from
Millsdorf was ever considered a stranger by all the people of Gschaid,
even after she had become the shoemaker's wife; and although they never
did her any ill, ay, even loved her on account of her beautiful ways,
yet they always seemed to keep their distance, or, if you will, showed
marked consideration for her, and never became intimate or treated her
as their equal, as men and women of Gschaid did men and women of their
own valley. Thus matters stood and remained, and were not mended by the
better dress and the lighter domestic duties of the shoemaker's wife.

At the end of the first year, she had born to her husband a son, and
several years afterward, a daughter. She believed, however, that he did
not love his children as she thought he ought to, and as she knew she
loved them herself; for his face was mostly serious and he was chiefly
concerned with his work. He rarely fondled or played with the children
and always spoke seriously to them as one does to adults. W