Annele pretended not to hear this speech, and exclaimed again,
"Gracious powers! why must I die thus? what have I done?"

"What have you done? Soon, very soon, God will tell you. My words are
of no avail in awakening your conscience."

Lenz was silent, and Annele also, though she felt she must say
something, and yet she could not utter.

"Good heavens!" began Lenz at last; "here are we two doomed to die, and
yet what are our mutual feelings? Misery and despair! and, even if by
any unforeseen good fortune we are rescued, all the former tortures and
discord will be renewed. My parents were, as I told you, three times
snowed up. My mother took every possible precaution every winter in
case of such an event, and laid in a great provision of salt and oil. I
know nothing of the first two times, but I perfectly well remember the
last. I never saw my father and mother kiss each other in my life, and
yet they loved each other truly and faithfully in their hearts. And on
that occasion, when my father said, 'Marie, now we are once more in the
world, and separated from all other living creatures,' then, for the
first time, I saw my mother kiss my father; and the three days that it
lasted, the harmony in which they lived was like paradise. In the
morning, at midday, and at night, my father and mother sung together
from their hymnbook, and every word they spoke was calm and holy. My
mother said, 'Oh, that we may one day die thus together, and be
translated from peace here, to peace everlasting hereafter! I hope I
shall die at the same moment with you, that one may not be left to
grieve for the other.' It was then my father spoke of my uncle, and
said, 'If I must die now, I have not a single enemy in the world. I owe
no man anything. My brother Peter alone dislikes me, and that
distresses me deeply.'"

Lenz suddenly stopped in the midst of his narration.

"Something is scratching at the front door, and now I hear whining and
barking. What is it? I must see what it is," said Lenz.

"Don't, for God's sake!" screamed Annele, laying her hand on his
shoulder.

Her touch was like an electric shock to him.

"Don't go, Lenz. It is a fox, or perhaps a wolf; they bark just like
that I heard one once."

Encouraged by voices in the house, the voice outside became more
clamorous, and the scratching and barking more vigorous.

"That is no wolf!" cried Lenz; "it is a dog. Hark! it is Bueble! Good
God! it is my uncle's dog, and my uncle