tell her falsehoods.

Often, however, she succeeded in bringing the most hardened to better
thoughts and feelings, so that they spoke with tremulous voice of the
paradise of youthful innocence.

When Madame Pfann visited Landolin in prison, she found her task easier
than usual, for she had long known him and his family. He quickly gave
her to understand that he did not value her visit very highly, as she
honored the commonest prisoner in the same way.

He listened attentively for her answer, and was not surprised when she
replied, with a smile:

"I cannot double myself when I visit you; but I will come oftener if
you like."

It now happened, as it often had before with prisoners, that Landolin
looked for her visit as a diversion, and that was something gained.

"Has Titus been here, and taken a look at the tower where I shut am up?
Or perhaps he has not wanted to see me. I'll say beforehand I won't see
him," said Landolin, angrily.

Madame Pfann saw that his thoughts were occupied with his rival, so she
said that no one should rejoice in another's misfortune, for every one
has his own secret sorrow.

"Has he? Has anything happened to him?" asked Landolin, eagerly.

The lady said: "No!" and then turned the conversation to his childhood.
He related his boyish pranks, and laughed heartily over them; but still
he censured his father for having yielded to him in everything, except
once when he wanted to marry the Galloping Cooper's sister, for whom he
had had a fancy. He even complained of his wife for having always
yielded to him. He said he was the most grateful of men when any one
kept him from his wild pranks, even though at first he rebelled against
the restraint. Then he stopped short. He was afraid he had betrayed
himself, and protested solemnly that he was innocent of Vetturi's
death.

Madame Pfann asked, "Would you like me to have some flowering plants
brought here?"

Landolin laughed aloud and said: "I don't want anything with me except
my dog."

She promised to see that he should have it. She soon found that it
really was a very deep grief and trouble, that Thoma did not come to
see him.

Madame Pfann went to Reutershoefen, and listened patiently to his wife's
lament that her life was changed since her husband's hat hung no longer
on its accustomed nail. When Thoma came in after a long delay, the
kind-hearted lady was touched by her appearance, and told her that she
could well imagine her grief,