up, and soon began to be counted among the completely
demoralized good-for-nothings.

The household went to pieces, hired girls caused disgrace and damage; so
year after year passed. Mergel was and remained a distressed and finally
rather pitiable widower, until all of a sudden he again appeared as a
bridegroom. If the event itself was unexpected, the personality of the
bride added still more to the general astonishment. Margaret Semmler was
a good, respectable person, in her forties, a village belle in her
youth, still respected for her good sense and thrift, and at the same
time not without some money. What had induced her to take this step was
consequently incomprehensible to every one. We think the reason is to be
found in her very consciousness of perfection. On the evening before the
wedding she is reported to have said: "A woman who is badly treated by
her husband is either stupid or good-for-nothing; if I am unhappy, put
it down as my fault." The result proved, unfortunately, that she had
overestimated her strength. At first she impressed her husband; if he
had taken too much, he would not come home, or would creep into the
barn. But the yoke was too oppressive to be borne long, and soon they
saw him quite often staggering across the street right into his house,
heard his wild shouting within, and saw Margaret hastily closing doors
and windows. On one such day--it was no longer a Sunday now--they saw
her rush out of the house in the evening, without hood or Shawl, with
her hair flying wildly about her head. They saw her throw herself down
in the garden beside a vegetable bed and dig up the earth with her
hands, then, anxiously looking about her, quickly pick off some
vegetables and slowly return with them in the direction of the house,
but, instead of entering it, go into the barn. It was said that this was
the first time that Mergel had struck her, although she never let such
an admission pass her lips. The second year of this unhappy marriage was
marked by the coming of a son--one cannot say gladdened, for Margaret is
reported to have wept bitterly when the child was handed to her.
Nevertheless, although born beneath a heart full of grief, Frederick was
a healthy, pretty child who grew strong in the fresh air. His father
loved him dearly, never came home without bringing him a roll or
something of that sort, and it was even thought he had become more
temperate since the birth of the boy; at least the noise in