was
a widower into the bargain with a big son. "That couldn't have been an
easy matter either for the little thing," said those who were friendly
towards Mrs. Tiralla. But she had behaved very well; anyhow, Mr.
Tiralla had grown stout, and used to tell those who had warned him
against proposing to the girl of seventeen, "that his Sophia was the
sweetest woman in creation, and that he was living in clover." And he
still said so, even now, after they had been married almost fifteen
years. She had bewitched him. Her big eyes, that gleamed like dark
velvet in her white face, played the fool with him. He could not be
angry with her, although she often tried him sorely. And, all things
considered, wasn't it rather nice of her that she was so coy and
reserved? The owner of [Pg 19] Starydwor had, in the course of his
life, come across enough women who had thrown themselves at his head.
He could not even credit Hanusia, his first wife, with a similar
modesty.

And his Sophia was pretty. It flattered the elderly man's vanity
immensely that nobody ever spoke of her as "Mrs. Tiralla," plain and
simple, but always as "the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla." When he drove with
her through Gradewitz--he on the box, she on the seat behind, in her
veil and feather boa--everybody stared. And even in Gnesen the officers
dining at the hotel used to rush to the window and crane their necks in
order to see the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla drive past. Then Mr. Tiralla
would crack his whip and look very elated. Let them envy him his wife.
_They_ did not know--nobody knew--that he many an evening had received
such a vigorous blow on the chest from her, when he had attempted to
approach her, as nobody would ever have given such a delicate-looking
woman credit for. On such occasions he would console himself with the
thought that his Sophia never had cared for love-making. But she was a
dear little woman, all the same, a beautiful woman, his own sweet wife,
from whose hand the food tasted twice as good and agreed with him twice
as well. And she was still as beautiful as on the first day; perhaps
even more so now that she was over thirty, for she used to be much too
thin and small, and did not weigh even seven stone. He could have
carried her on his hand.

He would have loved to deck her out in gay colours, like a show-horse,
but she had the tastes of a lady. That was because she had had a good
education. She spoke German very fluently, and could also write it