to
be left behind.

"What dog is this running after us?" said I.

"It is my dog. Isn't it so, Pincher? Aren't you my dog?"

The dog answered with a bark, and kept running back and forth, now up
the road and now down. When she whistled to him, in huntsman's style,
he obeyed.

"Master," asked she, without resting a moment while speaking, "and does
all as far as the eye can reach belong to you?"

"Why do you inquire?"

"Why? because I want to know. It must be jolly here in the daytime."

"Indeed it is."

"Is that the graveyard where I see the crosses and the white stones?"

"Yes."

"Can it be seen from your house?"

"It can."

"Too bad! that will never do. I can't bear to look out of the window. I
can't stay there, I won't stay; you must take away that graveyard; how
can one laugh or sing with that constantly before one's eyes? Or how
could I eat or drink? I once found a dead man in the forest. He had
been lying there ever so long, and was quite eaten away. I can't bear
to have Death always staring me in the face. I won't stay here."

I was obliged to stop. I felt so oppressed that I could not move from
the spot.

The oxen that I had sold the day before were just being led down the
hill. When Martella saw them she cried out, "Oh what splendid beasts!
are they yours?"

"They are no longer mine. I sold them yesterday, and they are to be led
to France."

"A pleasant meal to you, France!" said Martella, laughing boisterously.
I could not help noticing her hearty laughter, for I felt quite shocked
by it. What can this child be, thought I? What will become of our
tranquil household?

We arrived at the house. The room seemed lighted up more brilliantly
than usual. We ascended the steps, Martella preceding me. My wife was
waiting for us on the threshold, and taking both of Martella's hands in
hers, said, "Now, child, thou art at last at home."

"I am at home everywhere. And so is my dog. Isn't it so, Pincher?" said
Martella in a bold tone.

We entered the room. There were three lights on the table. My wife's
eloquent glance told me to have patience, and when I saw her lay her
hand on her heart I felt that she was confident that she could direct
everything for the best.

I now, for the first time, had a good look at Martella. In carriage and
feature she seemed as wild and defiant as a gypsy. Her face was full of
an expression of boldness. But she was indeed beautiful and fascinating
when she spoke, and