en trees they had so long
nourished. The voices of the magpies were heard busily chattering in
the chestnut-tree below, mixed with the frequent chirp of the
nutpecker. In Lenz's heart was the blackness of death. "Man, help me up
with this!" suddenly cried a child's voice. He rose and helped Faller's
eldest daughter lift upon her back the bundle of chips she had been
gathering among the fallen trees. The child was terrified at his wild
looks, so like a murderer or a ghost as she thought, and hurried down
the hill. He stood long watching the retreating figure.

It was night before Lenz returned home. He spoke not a word, but sat
for an hour staring blankly on the ground. When he looked up, it was
only to turn a wondering gaze on the tools hanging about the walls and
suspended from the ceiling, as if questioning in his mind what they all
were, and what they were used for.

The child in the next room began to cry, and would not be pacified till
Annele went in and sang to it.

The mother must sing for the sake of her child, though her heart be
breaking. Lenz roused himself, and followed her into the chamber.
"Annele." he said, "I have been out into the country; I wanted to be up
and away from here. Yes, you may laugh; I knew you would."

"I am not laughing. I had already thought it would be a good plan for
you to go abroad for a year. Perhaps you would come back a wiser man,
and all might be well again."

It cut him to the heart to hear her urging him to leave her; but he
only answered: "If I could not go abroad while I was happy, still less
can I go with this miserable weight at my heart. I am nothing, and am
good for nothing when my thoughts are not free and happy."

"Now you do indeed make me laugh," said Annele; "so you can neither go
abroad when you are happy nor when you are unhappy."

"I do not understand you. I have never understood you, nor you me."

"That is the worst of all, that there should be misery within as well
as without."

"Do away with it, then, and be kind and good."

"Don't speak so loud; you will wake the child," answered Annele.

As soon as the conversation took this turn, there was nothing more to
be got from her. Lenz returned to the sitting-room, and when Annele
followed him, and had gently closed the door, he said: "Now in our
misfortune is the time to love and cherish each other. That comfort
alone might still be left us; why will you refuse it?"

"Love cannot be forced."

"Then I