ng.

I had known her as a young girl. She was the daughter of the chief
forester, and seemed to retain the woodland freshness of her childhood
days. But she had always been ambitious, and had thirsted for the
pleasures of city life, with which she had become acquainted while
going to the school which was patronized by the reigning Princess.

At one of the public examinations she had sung so delightfully that the
Princess had praised her performance; and I believe that her desire for
a brilliant life dated from that incident.

She was fond of dress and show, and had married the Intendant, who was
a dried-up, conceited fellow.

Her marriage had not been a happy one; and now she sang love-songs full
of glowing passion, of sobs and tears.

I was thinking of this, and asking myself how it could be possible,
when Annette sat down by my side and softly whispered to me:

"Do explain, if you can, how this woman, after singing such songs, can
leave the company and ride home with her disagreeable husband? I could
not sing a note if I had such a husband."

Annette cannot conceive of her ever having been in love. All her
singing of the pleasures and the pains of love is nothing more than
poetical or musical affectation. "But how did she thus learn to
simulate emotion. If she really felt all this she would either die or
become crazed on her way home."

From that moment I began to like Annette. She had gone much further
than I had dared even in my thoughts, and proved, at the same time,
that her heart was true, and that she could not separate her feeling
for art from the rest of her life.

Bertha showed my wife's letters to her friend, who conceived the most
enthusiastic affection for Martella. She often inquired whether there
was anything she could do for the charcoal-burner's daughter.

There was danger of offending her by refusing her gifts. Even a virtue
may at times assume a repulsive form. Annette's complaint--I cannot
express it otherwise--was a passion for helping others.

My wife wrote that Martella was like a fresh bubbling spring, which
only needed to be kept within bounds to become a refreshing brook; but
that this must be carefully done, for inconsiderate attempts to deepen
the channel or divert its course might ruin the spring itself.

My wife also informed us that Ernst had been home to pay a short visit.
He seemed quite pensive, and expressed his dissatisfaction with the
fact that Martella was looking so