from which they came.

She felt that Eleanore was lying, and that the lie she was telling was
somehow connected with Daniel. That is why she went up to Eleanore's bed
in the dead of night, and whispered into her ear: "Tell me, Eleanore,
has anything happened to Daniel?"

But before Eleanore could reply, reassured by her sister's astonished
behaviour, and angry at herself for having suspected Eleanore of a
falsehood, she hurried back to her own bed. She had come to think more
and more of her sister every day.

"How she must love him," thought Eleanore to herself, and buried her
smiling face in the pillow.

VII

"Wait for me at the fountain," said Eleanore to her companion, as she
crossed the market place in Eschenbach at midday: "I'll call for you as
soon as everything has been discussed."

The coachman pointed out the little house of the widow Nothafft.

A woman with a stern face and unusually large eyebrows asked her what
she wanted as she entered the little shop, which smelled of vinegar and
cheese.

Eleanore replied that she would like to talk with her for a few minutes
quite undisturbed and alone.

The profound seriousness of Marian's features, which resembled more than
anything else an incurable suffering, did not disappear. She closed the
shop and took Eleanore into the living room, and, without saying a word,
pointed to one chair and took another herself.

Above the leather sofa hung the picture of Gottfried Nothafft. Eleanore
looked at it for a long while.

"Dear mother," she finally began, laying her hand on Marian's knee. "I
am bringing you something from Daniel."

Marian twitched. "Good or bad?" she asked. She had not heard from Daniel
for twenty-two months. "Who are you?" she asked, "what have you to do
with him?"

Eleanore saw at once that she would have to be extremely cautious if she
did not wish to offend the sensitive--and offended--woman by some
inconsiderate remark. With all the discrimination she could command she
laid her case before Daniel's mother.

And behold--the unusual became usual, just as the natural seemed
strange. Eleanore pictured Daniel's hardships and rise to fame, boasted
loyally of his talents and of the enthusiasm for him of those who
believed in him, referred to his future renown, and insisted that all
his guilt, including that toward his mother, be forgotten and forgiven.

Marian reviewed the past; she understood a great many t