is not far off; he is also
buried under the snow."

"Let him lie where he is; the old villain deserves no better fate."

"Woman! are you mad? Even at such a moment you are poisonous still."

"I drunk nothing but poison during all the long days up here. It was my
only refreshment."

Lenz went to the kitchen, and came back with a hatchet in his hand.

"What do you intend to do?" said Annele, clasping her child closely.

"Stand out of the way! stand out of the way!" cried Lenz, in a stern
voice, and, exerting all his strength, he hacked the door, which opened
outwards, to pieces.

It was indeed Bueble, who darted in with a howl, but quickly rushed out
again, and began to poke his nose eagerly into the snow, barking louder
than ever.

Lenz set to to shovel away the snow, and very soon a piece of fur came
to light. Lenz now worked more cautiously, and, laying aside his
hatchet and shovel, he grubbed in the snow with his hands. He was
obliged to take the snow inside the house, to gain space, at last.

He found his uncle. He was insensible, and so heavy that Lenz had
scarcely strength to drag him in. He managed, however, to get him into
his room, and, after undressing him, he laid him on the bed. Then he
continued to rub him with all his strength till he revived. "Where am
I?" groaned he, "Where am I?"

"With me, uncle."

"Who brought me here? Who took off my clothes? Where are the clothes?
Where is my fur cloak, and my waistcoat? my keys are there. So you have
got me at last."

"Uncle, do be quiet. I will bring you everything. Here is your
waistcoat, and your fur cloak too."

"Give them to me. Are the keys safe? Yes, here they are. Ah, Bueble! are
you there too?"

"Yes, uncle, it was he who saved you."

"Ah, now I remember! we were buried in the snow. How long ago is it?
Was it not yesterday?"

"Scarcely an hour since," replied Lenz.

"Do you hear help coming?"

"I hear nothing at all. Try to rest quietly where you are, while I go
into the next room to fetch you some restorative."

"Leave the light here, and bring me something hot."

When he was alone, Petrowitsch thought to himself, "I deserve it, right
well do I deserve it. Why did I go out of my way to meddle with their
affairs?"

Lenz quickly returned with some brandy, which seemed considerably to
revive Petrowitsch, who, fondling the dog that had crept close to him,
said, "Now let me go to sleep for a time. What is that? Is it not the
cry o