me take the child. Be calm,
he has only lost his hat."

Annele staggered into the house, waving her hands before her face to
brush away the mist that dimmed her sight. Was it possible? Lenz dead
now,--now, when her heart had opened to him? It cannot be, it is not
so. "Why should my Lenz kill himself?" she asked as she sank upon a
seat. "What do you mean by it?"

Faller made no answer.

"Can you only talk when you are not wanted to?" she asked angrily. "Sit
down, sit down, and tell me what has happened."

As if he could punish Annele by not doing her bidding, Faller remained
standing, though his knees shook under him. The look he turned upon her
was so full of sorrow and bitter upbraidings, that her eyes fell
beneath it. "How can I sit in your house?" he said at last. "You have
taken the comfort out of every chair."

"I do not need your admonitions. I told you that long ago. If you know
anything of my husband, tell it. Has he been found dead? where? Speak,
you--"

"No, thank Heaven. God forbid! The shingle-maker from Knuslingen,
Franzl's brother, reported him as having been with Franzl, and she
lives almost two leagues beyond the place where his hat was picked up."

Annele breathed more freely. "Why did you frighten me so?" she asked
again.

"Frighten you? Can you still be frightened?"

Faller told how Lenz had been everywhere, trying to borrow money to pay
the security on his house, and added that that need burden him no
longer, as Don Bastian had just advanced the required amount.

Annele drew herself up as he spoke. The old spirit of wrath and
bitterness rose again within her, mightier, more vengeful than ever. He
has deceived you, he has lied to you, her every feature said. He lives,
he must live to atone for it. He told you he had withdrawn his
security. Come home, you liar, you hypocrite! Annele went into her
chamber, and Faller was obliged to depart without seeing her again.
Gone was all sorrow, all contrition, all love. Lenz had deceived
her, had told her a lie, and he should pay for it. Just like these
good-natured milksops who, because they cannot stand up like men for
their own rights, must be handled like a soft-shelled egg! Let me
alone, and I will let you alone; refuse me nothing, and I will refuse
you nothing, though you make me a beggar. Come home, you pitiful
milksop!

Annele put no food on the fire, to be ready for her husband's return. A
very different kind of cooking was going on.