te manner in which he expressed himself. He never
addressed the innkeeper except as "Mr. Councilman." "He must have
learned that from his wife, who got her education at the palace,"
whispered the councilmen to each other.

In spite of the pouring rain that lasted during the whole of the
meeting, Walpurga waited and watched outside of the town hall. If there
should be any trouble up there, thought she to herself, she would go up
and tell them all what they were. She was insensible to the rain
penetrating her clothes, for she was all aglow with excitement. At last
she heard a noise on the stairs. Many were coming down, and she hurried
home.

Hansei returned home, full of self-confidence. He had conquered
himself, and the victory had been a greater one than if he had laid
about him with cudgels. At home, he found everything in great
confusion.

Walpurga, after walking about in the rain, had suddenly hurried home as
if some one was after her, and had fainted as soon as she entered the
room where her mother was sitting. She had recovered, but was still in
a high fever, and her teeth were chattering. Once she opened her eyes,
but quickly closed them again.

Hansei wanted to go for the doctor at once, but the mother advised him
to stay at home and send a messenger in his stead. Before the doctor
came, Walpurga was sitting up in bed and telling her own story.

Hansei informed her how he had killed the innkeeper with politeness.
Walpurga's face suddenly lit up with joy, and she held out her hand to
him, saying:

"You're--you're a splendid fellow," and then she wept until the tears
streamed down her cheeks.

"That's right," said the grandmother to Hansei; "that'll clear her
head. I was afraid it had gone to her head, but now it's all right. You
can go now."

Hansei left the room. He stood at the window for a while, looking out
at the rain. "If your wife were to die, or if she should live and be
worse than dead. If she--" He did not dare to think of the word.

The mother came out into the room and said: "Thank God! she's sleeping.
When this is well over, the danger's past. It was no trifle to leave
the palace as she's done, where they all petted her and showed her
great respect, and to come here among these coarse, spiteful people.
She'd become filled with anger and hatred, and it had to come out some
day. Thank God, it's out now. It's lucky for us that the people have
shown themselves so mean. Take my word for it--wit