r why they too cannot live in abundance, like the rich farmers.
After she had drunk her chicory coffee, she went about her work,
singing like a thrush. And who knows but she put the same ease with
which she carried the burden of life into her cushions; for it was
acknowledged that they were the softest in all the country side. She
seemed to have entirely forgotten her sad birth. Now, a heavy
affliction had come upon her. Her last and only treasure was taken
away; and suddenly fear, bitterness and hate, and all the spirits of
evil took possession of her. Suddenly, as though she had awakened from
a sleep in a paradise of innocence, she perceived how miserable her
life was; and she hated every one who lived in prosperity, and had
children to rejoice in. Above all others, she hated the murderer of her
child, and his family. Her only thought and wish were that he and they
should suffer and be brought to ruin.

The poor old woman carried a heavy burden of sorrow and hate. Her life
had been darkened, and she only wished to stay until she had avenged
herself on Landolin. This was why she had been so sullen and morose
since her son's death.

Hate, anger and misery grew within her, and transformed her happy, kind
heart into a sad and wicked one.

CHAPTER XXVI.

In the summer garden of the Sword Inn, the linden trees were in full
bloom. The bees came, sipped, and flew away without asking for the
reckoning. But to make up for this, the finches sang without pay; and
the swallows circled round, as though dancing a figure in the air, and
sometimes shot after a honey-laden bee.

Everything rejoiced in its own way. It was a morning so full of
freshness, so full of enjoyment and exuberant life, one could hardly
believe that misery still existed in the world.

A horseman trotted up to the garden fence, stopped, dismounted, and
gave his horse to the servant, telling him to take it home and say to
his wife that if any one asked for him she might send him here; that he
would, however, soon be at home.

"Good morning, doctor," called the hostess, from the veranda. "You have
come just at the right time. We have this moment tapped a keg of beer."

The physician had already heard that refreshing, enticing sound, that
deep thud when the spigot is driven into the keg, and that clear sound
when the bung is drawn.

The hostess brought him the first glass. He held it up to let the sun
shine through the