your mother. But your mother belongs to the master, the
master belongs to Ernst, and Ernst belongs to me; and that is how it
is."

When evening came, Rothfuss expressed his opinion in the following
words:

"If her inside is like her outside, she need not be made any better
than she already is."

Our oldest maid-servant, Balbina, seemed quite kindly disposed to the
new arrival, and Martella said that Balbina had told her something with
the air of imparting a secret of which she was the only possessor. And
what was it? "Why, nothing more than that it is sinful to lie and
steal."

I have given the story of this first day in its smallest details. It is
only for the first green leaves of spring that we have an attentive
eye. They go on, silently increasing, until they become so numerous
that they excite no comment.

CHAPTER IX.

Martella did not become attached to any one in the house except
Rothfuss, whom she was constantly plying with questions about Ernst's
childhood. When in pleasant evenings during the week, and on Sunday
afternoons in clear weather, the youths and maidens would march through
the village, with their merry songs, she would sit with Rothfuss on the
bench by the stable, or, unattended by any companion save her dog,
would be up in the woods that lay back of our house.

When she had any special request, she would communicate it through
Rothfuss.

Among other things, she wanted to go out into the forest with the
wood-cutters. From her thirteenth year she had wielded the axe, and
could use it as cleverly as the men. We did not grant this wish of
hers.

Her craving for knowledge was insatiable, and I marvelled at the
patience and equanimity with which my wife told her everything she
wanted to know.

Things to which we had become accustomed were to her occasions of the
liveliest surprise. This did not seem to change, for she never could
get used to what with us had, through daily habit, become a matter of
course. To her all seemed a marvel.

Her glance was full of courage. Her voice seemed so full of sincerity,
that her strangest utterances required no added assurance of their
truthfulness. Her laughter was so hearty that it seemed contagious.

Rothfuss was quite proud that he could control Martella, just as he did
the two bays that he had raised from the time they were foals, and
delighted to speak of the fact, that our youngest--as he called
Ernst--was th