frightened.

My fright was only increased by the grandmother, who first looked at the
cake-dish, and then looked at each plate on the table in turn,
subsequently resetting her gaze upon that cake-dish; then she gazed up
to the ceiling, as if making some calculation, which she followed up by
considerable shaking of her head.

Who could not understand that dumb speech? She had counted the cakes;
calculated how many each had devoured; how many had been put on the
dish, had added and subtracted, with the result that one cake was
missing: what had become of it? An inquisition would follow: the cake
would be looked for, and found in my pocket, and then no water could
ever wash away my shame.

Every moment I expected that little demoniacal curiosity to point to me
with that never-resting hand of hers, and proclaim: "there in the new
child's pocket is the cake."

She was already by my side, and I saw that father, mother and
Grandmother Fromm turned to me all with inquiring looks, and addressed
some terrible "interpellatio" to me, which I did not understand, but
could suspect what it was. And Lorand and grandmother did not come to my
aid to explain what it all meant.

Instead of which snub-nose swept up to me and, repeating the same
question, explained it by pantomimic gestures; laying one hand upon the
other, then placing her head upon them, gently closed her eyes.

Oh, she was asking, if I were sleepy? It was remarkable, how this
insufferable creature could make me understand everything.

Never did that question come more opportunely. I breathed more freely.
Besides, I made up my mind never to call her "snub-nose devil" any more.

Grandmother allowed me to go: little Fanny was to show me to my room: I
was to sleep with Henrik: I said good-night to all in turn, and so
distracted was I that I kissed even Fanny's hand. And the little bundle
of malice did not prevent me, she merely laughed at me for it.

This girl had surely been born merely to annoy me.

She took a candle in her hand and told me to follow her: she would lead
the way.

I obeyed her.

We had not quite reached the head of the corridor when the draught blew
out the candle.

We were in complete darkness, for there was no lamp burning here of an
evening on the staircase, only a red glimmer, reflected probably from
the bakery-chimney, lit up the darkness, and even that disappeared as we
left the corridor.

Fanny laughed when the candle went out, and t