later her mother was seized with fatal illness. Jeanne
could not bring herself to show her any tenderness. The piteous glance
of the dying woman followed all her comings and goings, but she
pretended not to see it. Once, when her father was out of the room, her
mother called Jeanne to the bedside:

"You know?" she asked.

Jeanne only nodded her head in reply.

"Child, I am dying, forgive me."

But Jeanne moved away from the bed without answering the appeal.

No sooner had the doctor pronounced life to be extinct than she felt a
strange anxiety. In her great desire to atone in some way for her past
harshness, the girl resolved that, no matter what befell her, she would
do her best to hide the truth from her father.

That night she entered the room where the dead woman lay, and ransacked
every box and drawer until she found the letters she was seeking. They
were at the bottom of her mother's jewel-case. Quickly she took
possession of them; but just as she was replacing the case in its
accustomed place, her father came in, having heard her moving about. She
could offer no explanation of her presence, and had to listen in silence
to his bitter accusation: "Are you so crazy about trinkets that you
cannot wait until your poor mother is laid in her grave?"

In the course of that year one of the chemist's apprentices seduced her.
But she laughed in his face when he spoke of marriage. Later on she ran
away with a commercial traveller, and neither threats nor persuasion
would induce her to return home.

After this, more than once she sought in some fleeting connection a
happiness which never came to her. The only pleasure she got out of her
adventures was the power of dressing well. When at last she saw that she
was not made for this disorderly life, she obtained a situation in a
German family travelling to the south of Europe.

There she remained until homesickness drove her back to Denmark. Her
complete lack of ambition accounts for her being contented in this
modest situation.

She never made any inquiries about her father, and only knows that he
left his money to other people, which does not distress her in the
least. Her sole reason for going on living is that she shrinks from
seeking death voluntarily.

I wonder if there exists a man who could save her? A man who could make
her forget the bitterness of the past? She assures me I am the only
human being who has ever attracted her. If I were a man she would be
d