then, we have to turn our petticoats into breeches."
She laughed heartily, and Bruno laughed, too. He imagined his
mother-in-law in this costume. She had tried many in her life, but
never such an one.

The only object of his errand had been to enable him, under the pretext
of having received authentic information, to dissuade his mother-in-law
from her plan which, if carried out, would have subjected him to a day
of bitter slavery. He well knew that nothing would be right, and that
he would be obliged to swallow her reproaches and scoldings, just as if
it were his fault that they chanced now upon a swamp, now upon a hill,
and that while, at the shepherd's hut, they might feed their eyes on
mountains of ice, they could not have vanilla ices with which to
satisfy the palate. He knew all about these pleasure-parties, at which
he generally felt as if he must die of vexation. Walpurga found an
opportunity to tell her husband to use all the means in his power to
dissuade the count from visiting their mountain meadow. And so when
Hansei went out into the stable with the count, who was looking for his
horse, he laughed till he showed every tooth in his head while he said:

"There's a relation of ours up there, and she's a little bit out of her
mind."

Walpurga also came out into the stable, for she feared that her husband
might betray something. Bruno asked her whether she knew what had
become of her friend.

Walpurga shook her head and wept.

"Yes," said she, "I can well say no one on this earth suffered more for
her sake than I did."

She wept so bitterly that Bruno offered to console her.

At last he left.

It was several days before Walpurga recovered from the effects of her
fright. Again and again, it seemed to her that it might be better if
Irma were found out, for perhaps she was quite ill and might die before
her time. But if she were discovered, it would kill her at once. This
accounted for her uneasiness, while at the hut on the previous Sunday,
and for her having enjoined the greatest caution on the uncle. She was
constantly pursued by the thought that there would soon be an end to it
all. If one only knew how and what the end would be, and whether
anything could be done. She could do nothing. All she could do was to
let what would happen.

CHAPTER XI.

The trees in Gunther's garden were decked with green and the parterre
was filled with lovely flowers. The birds we