mooth grey hair. She took Paula's chin
in a firm hand and turned her face towards her own, saying tenderly but
decidedly: "There, that is enough. You might cry and welcome, for
it eases the heart, but that it is so late. Is it the old story:
home-sickness, annoyances, and so forth, or is there anything new?"

"Alas, indeed!" replied the girl. She pressed her handkerchief in
her hands as she went on with excited vehemence: "I am in the last
extremity, I can bear it no longer, I cannot--I cannot! I am no longer
a child, and when in the evening you dread the night and in the morning
dread the day which must be so wretched, so utterly unendurable...."

"Then you listen to reason, my darling, and say to yourself that of two
evils it is wise to choose the lesser. You must hear me say once more
what I have so often represented to you before now: If we renounce our
city of refuge here and venture out into the wide world again, what
shall we find that will be an improvement?"

"Perhaps nothing but a hovel by a well under a couple of palm-trees;
that would satisfy me, if I only had you and could be free--free from
every one else!"

"What is this; what does this mean?" muttered the elder woman shaking
her head. "You were quite content only the day before yesterday.
Something must have...."

"Yes, must have happened and has," interrupted the girl almost beside
herself. "My uncle's son.--You were there when he arrived--and
I thought, even I firmly believed that he was worthy of such a
reception.--I--I--pity me, for I... You do not know what influence that
man exercises over hearts.--And I--I believed his eyes, his words, his
songs and--yes, I must confess all--even his kisses on this hand! But it
was all false, all--a lie, a cruel sport with a weak, simple heart, or
even worse--more insulting still! In short, while he was doing all in
his power to entrap me--even the slaves in the barge observed it--he was
in the very act--I heard it from Dame Neforis, who is only too glad when
she can hurt me--in the very act of suing for the hand of that little
doll--you know her--little Katharina. She is his betrothed; and yet
the shameless wretch dares to carry on his game with me; he has the
face...."

Again Paula sobbed aloud; but the older woman did not know how to help
in the matter and could only mutter to herself: "Bad, bad--what, this
too!--Merciful Heaven!..." But she presently recovered herself and said
firmly: "This is indeed a