Bubby and the cat. The dog betrayed his discomfort by
continued barks and whines, till the cat was finally shut up in the
kitchen, where she did them good service by silencing the raven.
Petrovitsch called for more cherry-brandy, of which Lenz said there
were happily three bottles left of his mother's making, at least twelve
years ago; with hot water and sugar he mixed himself a nice glass of
grog. "How absurd all this is!" he cried, growing talkative under its
genial influence; "I have dragged my body over the whole world, only to
be squeezed to death in my father's house. It serves me right; why
could I not have conquered that foolish homesickness? Homesickness
indeed!" he gave a laugh of derision and continued: "there is an
insurance on my life, but of what use is that to me now? Do you know
who has buried us here? that man of honor, the stout landlord,
destroyed the forest over our heads."

"Alas! he buries his child and his child's child with us," added Lenz.

"You are neither of you fit to mention my father's name," cried Annele,
passionately. "My father was unfortunate, but he was never dishonest.
If you say another word against him, I will set fire to the house."

"You are mad!" cried Petrovitsch; "shall we thank him for throwing this
little snow-ball at our heads? Be quiet, Annele; come, sit here by me;
give me your hand. I have something to say to you, Annele; I never
fancied that you yourself were quite good and true; but now I see you
are. I like you for not letting any word of blame fall on your father.
Few keep loyal to a ruined man. 'Oh, how I love you!' is only heard as
long as we have money in our pocket. I like you for it, Annele." Annele
cast a quick glance at her husband, whose eyes were fixed on the
ground.

"It is well that we should spend this hour together," continued
Petrovitsch; "who knows but it may be our last? Let us come to a full
and free understanding with each other. Draw your chair nearer, Lenz.
You looked for consolation from your wife in your misfortune. Because
you were dissatisfied with yourself and could give yourself no praise,
you craved it from others, instead of helping her, the proud Annele of
the Lion. You are proud, Annele, you need not shake your head. A good
thing pride is; I only wish Lenz had a little more of it. Your turn is
coming; don't be impatient."

"Yes," cried Annele; "he deceived me, he said he had given up the
security for Faller; it was false."

"I did