much variety in the women's headgear, and over all
the wonderful old building, which would have delighted a painter's soul.
That morning Wilhelmine noted nothing of all this, though on another
occasion she would have taken pleasure in it, for like most sensuous
natures she had a keen feeling for colour, and the grouping of a peasant
crowd appealed to her artistic eye; but that day she was so absorbed in
her own dreams that she did not even observe her mother walking towards
her, an expression of annoyance on her sharp features. Wilhelmine started
when Frau von Graevenitz, laying an ungentle hand on her shoulder, said
close to her ear: 'And where may my fine daughter be going at so early an
hour? Generally Miss Lie-abed is still reposing at nine of the clock!'

'O mother!' she answered, 'I am going to Monsieur Gabriel for my singing
lesson. God knows, you cannot grudge me that, for he teaches me without
payment.' Her quick wit told her that to draw her mother's attention to
this fruitful source of complaint, her poverty, would ensure an escape
unquestioned. She reflected that she could tell of Friedrich's letter,
pretending she had received it on her way home. Or, if her mother
discovered the earlier delivery of the post, she would say the angry
attack in the market-place had made her forget to mention it. This plan
met with success, and Frau von Graevenitz remained in the pleasurable
throes of a talkative woman with a grievance, holding forth to an
appreciative audience composed of several of her gossips, who had
gathered round as soon as they heard her shrill excited tones. A
market-woman or two joined the group and stood with hands on hips,
listening with open amusement, for the garrulous dame was a well-known
character in the country town.

As Wilhelmine gained the shelter of the dark street which ran from the
Marktplatz to the cathedral, she saw Pastor Mueller's fat form added to
her mother's assemblage. How she hated that stout person, his pompous
condescension to her, and his greasy face!

The Klosterstrasse seemed deliciously quiet after the noise of the
Marktplatz, and before her, at the end of the street, she could see one
tall buttress of the cathedral, and a corner of the graveyard. She walked
up the pathway between the tombs and pushed open the heavy church door.
The cathedral nave was dark. Wilhelmine peered about and, thinking there
was no one in the church, turned to go, when from the organ, far away
n