She thought suddenly: 'It's no longer mine; I must begin to be careful,'
but she felt ashamed when she looked at the old man.

"I am sorry," she said; "yesterday I would have given you this, but--but
now it's already given."

He seemed so old and poor--what could she give him? She unhooked a
little silver brooch at her throat. "You will get something for that,"
she said; "it's better than nothing. I am very sorry you are so old and
poor."

The beggar crossed himself. "Gracious lady," he muttered, "may you never
want!"

Christian hurried on; the rustling of leaves soon carried the words
away. She did not feel inclined to go in, and crossing the bridge began
to climb the hill. There was a gentle breeze, drifting the clouds across
the sun; lizards darted out over the walls, looked at her, and whisked
away.

The sunshine, dappling through the tops of trees, gashed down on a
torrent. The earth smelt sweet, the vineyards round the white farms
glistened; everything seemed to leap and dance with sap and life; it was
a moment of Spring in midsummer. Christian walked on, wondering at her
own happiness.

'Am I heartless?' she thought. 'I am going to leave him--I am going into
life; I shall have to fight now, there'll be no looking back.'

The path broke away and wound down to the level of the torrent; on the
other side it rose again, and was lost among trees. The woods were dank;
she hastened home.

In her room she began to pack, sorting and tearing up old letters. 'Only
one thing matters,' she thought; 'singleness of heart; to see your way,
and keep to it with all your might.'

She looked up and saw Barbi standing before her with towels in her
hands, and a scared face.

"Are you going a journey, gnadiges Fraulein?"

"I am going away to be married, Barbi," said Christian at last; "don't
speak of it to any one, please."

Barbi leant a little forward with the towels clasped to the blue cotton
bosom of her dress.

"No, no! I will not speak. But, dear Fraulein, that is a big matter;
have you well thought?"

"Thought, Barbi? Have I not!"

"But, dear Fraulein, will you be rich?"

"No! I shall be as poor as you."

"Ach! dear God! that is terrible. Katrina, my sister, she is married;
she tells me all her life; she tells me it is very hard, and but for the
money in her stocking it would be harder. Dear Fraulein, think again!
And is he good? Sometimes they are not good."

"He is good," said Christian, rising; "it i