ought your great farm. Good-day!"

She went into the house.

Walpurga stood there, alone. The houses, the mountains, the woods, the
fields--all swam before her, and her eyes were filled with bitter
tears.

Gunther had been looking out of the window, during Walpurga's interview
with his wife, and, by the manner of the latter, felt satisfied that
the peasant woman had been told some unpleasant truths.

He now saw Walpurga walk away; she would stop now and then, and dry her
tears with her apron. The woman repents, at any rate, thought he
to himself, and she's only another proof of the far-reaching and
all-corroding effects of evil.

It was long before Gunther could be made to believe that Walpurga had
received a large sum of money in return for wicked services, but it had
been judicially proven that the farm had been paid for in new coin,
such as only passes through princely hands. And just because Gunther
had believed in Walpurga's simple true-heartedness, and had staked his
word upon it, he was all the more embittered against her.

He was resolved to clear up the matter as soon as the opportunity
offered.

CHAPTER IV.

Proud and happy as Walpurga had been when she left home in the morning,
it was with a heavy heart that she returned at evening.

She might well be proud, for no farmer's wife could present a better
appearance. Franz, the late cuirassier, had broken in the foal. It was
harnessed to the little Bernese wagon and looked around as if pleased
when Walpurga came out, dressed in her Sunday clothes and accompanied
by Burgei. Hansei helped his wife into the wagon and then gave her the
child.

"Come back safe and sound," said he, "and Franz, take care of the
horse."

"Never fear!" was Franz's answer, and the horse started off at a lively
gait, as if it were mere child's play to draw such a load.

Hansei stood looking after his wife and child for a while and then
turned about and went off to his work. He only nodded to Irma, who was
looking out of her window and waving a farewell to Walpurga. Walpurga
rode off, holding her hand to her heart, as if to repress the joy with
which it was overflowing.

What was there better in the world than a well-arranged household like
the one she was just leaving, and to feel, moreover, that the people
she met would know that she was well-to-do in the world? But Walpurga
was proud of something else which the people could not see.