fled, never to return. Verfallen! And the desire
to live was stronger than ever, even to live her life over again from
the beginning, sorrows and all.

She began to reflect what she should cook for supper. There was time
enough, but she must think of something new: her husband was tired of
her usual dishes. He said her cooking was old-fashioned, that it was
always the same thing, day in and day out. His taste was evidently
getting worn-out, too.

And she wondered what she could prepare, so as to win back her husband's
former good temper and affectionate appreciation.

At one time he was an ardent young man, with a fiery tongue. He had
great ideals, and he strove high. He talked of making mankind happy,
more refined, more noble and free. He had dreamt of a world without
tears and troubles, of a time when men should live as brothers, and
jealousy and hatred should be unknown. In those days he loved with all
the warmth of his youth, and when he talked of love, it was a delight to
listen. The world grew to have another face for her then, life, another
significance, Paradise was situated on the earth.

Gradually his ideals lost their freshness, their shine wore off, and he
became a business man, racking his brain with speculations, trying to
grow rich without the necessary qualities and capabilities, and he was
left at last with prematurely grey hair as the only result of his
efforts.

Eight years after their marriage he was as worn as their furniture in
the front parlor.

Rosalie looked out of the window. It was even much brighter outside than
indoors. She saw people going up and down the street with different
anxieties reflected in their faces, with wrinkles telling different
histories of the cares of life. She saw old faces, and the young faces
of those who seemed to have tasted of age ere they reached it.
"Everything is old and worn and shabby," whispered a voice in her ear.

A burst of childish laughter broke upon her meditations. Round the
corner came with a rush a lot of little boys with books under their
arms, their faces full of the zest of life, and dancing and jumping till
the whole street seemed to be jumping and dancing, too. Elder people
turned smilingly aside to make way for them. Among the children Rosalie
espied two little girls, also with books under their arms, her little
girls! And the mother's heart suddenly brimmed with joy, a delicious
warmth stole into her limbs and filled her being.

Rosali