essor.
Where is he? I will beg him on my knees, I will beg him to let me stay
here.'

"'Listen, my friend,' I said earnestly, and took hold of the flowing
silk sleeves of her dress. 'It will be for your young lady's best good
if you are parted from her. This much I know, that Professor Mattoni has
left the girl quite without means, and it is now high time she learned
to put on her shoes and stockings alone. A poor demoiselle, of citizen's
rank, needs no lady's maid. She must learn to work and to make herself
useful.'

"'Oh, Heaven!' sobbed the little dried-up woman, 'I thought she was to
be a guest in this house, and you will make a servant of her.'

"A harsh answer was at my tongue's end. Had her tenderness for the girl
made this woman perfectly crazy? At any rate, she was not to be reasoned
with. 'Go down-stairs,' said I, in vexation, 'and carry your complaint
to the master. He will know better, at least, how to make you comprehend
what sort of a position Susanna Mattoni is to occupy here.'

"She dried her tears, seized a candle, and flew to the mirror, bustled
about with comb and brush, and spread over her yellow face something
from various little jars. I began to feel a real horror of the old
woman, with her artifices. Now she tied her cap-strings afresh, pulled
from the trunk a lace-edged handkerchief, and holding it theatrically in
her hand, said she was ready to pay her respects to the master.

"'Were you formerly on the stage?' I asked, wondering at her red, full
cheeks.

"'For ten years, Mademoiselle!' she replied; 'I played the gay, her
mother'--she pointed to Susanna--'the tragic lovers. Oh, it was
glorious, that acting together!'

"What she further related I did not understand. 'Merciful Heaven!' I
faltered, as I opened the door softly and showed her out into the hall,
'what has Klaus brought upon us, in his kind-heartedness?'

"I sat still by the girl's bed, and looked at the young face. God only
knew in what slough this fair flower had grown! It was clear that the
old woman must go away, if anything was ever to be made of the girl;
please God it might not be too late!

"The light from the candles scarcely sufficed to light up the nearest
objects. Dense obscurity lay in the corners, but the oil-portrait of the
Mischief-maker was feebly illuminated, and her black eyes seemed to give
me a demoniacal look. A vague fear came over me; involuntarily I folded
my hands in prayer: 'O Lord, Thy ways are wo