thought that keeping a hotel was the employment best suited for her
capacities. In pursuance of this project, she changed her policy
towards Pilgrim. Whereas she had formerly tried to breed dissension
between him and her husband, she now determined to make him her
confidant and ally. He had once told her it was a shame she was not a
landlady; every one said she would give the Lion a fresh start. Pilgrim
should now join her in urging Lenz to take charge of the Lion inn. He
could, at the same time, pursue his art,--she called it art when she
was good-natured, otherwise it was always trade,--either at the Lion or
on the Morgenhalde,--perhaps better in the latter place, it being so
much more quiet. A merchant often had his place of business even
farther from his residence than the Morgenhalde was from the Lion.

When Pilgrim came, therefore, Annele received him most graciously.
"Pray, light your pipe," she said, "I like the smell of it so much. It
carries me back to my home."

You are indeed in a foreign atmosphere up here, thought Pilgrim;
but he kept his thoughts to himself. When at length, after many
circumlocutions, she disclosed her plan, Pilgrim declined all
co-operation in it; and Lenz manifested an obstinacy and a disregard to
both caresses and bursts of temper which she was quite unprepared for.
"First you wanted to make me a dealer in clocks, and then a
manufacturer," he said; "now it seems I am to be landlord of the Lion.
What did you marry me for, if you want to make another man of me?"

Annele gave no direct answer, only saying, "Towards every one else you
are as soft as butter, but to me hard as a flint."

Lenz looked upon himself as having a settled position in life; Annele
was bent upon giving him one. She did not confess that she considered
herself the more competent to support the family, but only wept and
bemoaned her hard fate in never being allowed to make herself of use.
She was not unreasonable; she wanted nothing but to be allowed to work,
to earn something; and that little favor was denied her. Lenz told her
that the garden used to be very profitable; she might work there. But
she did not like gardening. The plants grew so slowly in the ground,
making no sound, and never to be urged or hurried out of their
appointed times; it was too tiresome waiting for them to come to
anything. Three visits to the cellar, and three to the kitchen, would
earn more than a garden could show in a whole summer. A w