had grown bitter and gloomy. She did not belong
to that class of people whom a great sorrow makes tender.

"Joyless times followed that wedding--days and weeks, empty and cold. At
first I had besought her to write to Klaus, not to let the breach become
wider. She had answered me with a cold smile, and torn in two a letter
from her brother after the first glance. I saved the pieces and found an
effusion of honeymoon bliss, and nothing different could have been
expected. Anna Maria had probably not observed the short business
announcement that he had advantageously sold the estate in Silesia, and
now thought of going to Paris with Susanna.

"Klaus wrote again, several times, to Anna Maria. She would carry a
letter from him about with her all day, unopened, then occasionally tear
it open, and begin to read, only to throw it into the fire before she
had half finished. Later these letters to Anna Maria were discontinued.
The old bailiff appeared now and then in the sitting-room, to tell her
that the master had written him, and wished this and that, thus and so.
Anna Maria would usually nod her head silently, and the man would
stand, embarrassed, at the door a little while, and then go quietly away
again.

"'Things are not as they ought to be any longer,' he declared to me.
'Formerly the Fraeulein used to concern herself about every trifle, so
that I often cursed her zeal; to-day anything may happen that will, it
is all the same to her; and even if all the barns and granaries should
burn down in the night, she would not stir.'

"It was true, Anna Maria no longer asked about anything; she seemed to
have sunk into a regular apathy. It was a grief to see this young
creature, from whom everything on which her heart was fixed was taken,
and who now, without check or purpose, in the most tormenting pain of
soul, shut her eyes and ears in dark defiance.

"'Diversion!' said the doctor.

"I looked at him in astonishment. 'I beg you, you have known the girl
since her childhood, have you ever known a time when trifles and
nonsense could give her pleasure, or could divert her at all from a
sorrow?'

"'Nonsense!' replied the old man, 'but she is only a woman. She ought to
marry, then everything would be different! It would be a pity if that
girl should become a dried-up old maid.'

"I shook my head sadly.

"'Why the devil is she so unreasonable, too, as to fret about her
brother's marriage?' he continued, undisturbed. No gray h