e went up the
ladder to get him some cherries, and was smoking incessantly; after
that, he took him into the stable, where the cow had been placed.

The two physicians had returned, and Hansei had to be called into the
room, for it was here, and not out of doors in the presence of the
crowd, that the wife wished to take leave of her husband. Doctor Sixtus
put a roll of crown thalers in Hansei's pocket. After that, Hansei
constantly kept his hand there and was loth to remove it.

"Give me your hand, Hansei," said Walpurga.

He loosened his grasp of the money and gave her his hand.

"Farewell, dear Hansei, and be a good man. I'll remain a good
wife.... And now, God keep you all of you."

She kissed her mother and Stasi, and then, without once looking back,
she hurried through the garden and seated herself in the carriage. The
cow in the stable bellowed and groaned, but the sounds were drowned by
the postilion's fanfare.

During all this, old Zenza had been leaning against the garden gate; at
times passing her hand over her face and rubbing her bright and
sparkling eyes. And now, when the lackey passed her she stared at him
so, that he asked, in a rough and yet not unkind voice:

"Do you want anything, mother?"

"Yes; I'm old, and a mother in the bargain. Hi-hi-hi!" said she,
laughing, and the crowd hinted to the lackey that her mind often
wandered.

"Is there anything you want?" asked the lackey again.

"Of course there is, if you'll give it to me."

With trembling hand, the lackey drew the large purse from his pocket,
and took out a piece of gold. But no, that might betray him. After
fumbling with the money a long while, he at last gave the gold piece to
the old woman, and said:

"This is from the king."

He mounted the box and never looked back again. The coach started off.

People came up to Zenza and asked her to show them what she had
received, but her hand was closed as with a convulsive grasp. Without
answering, she went away, supporting herself upon her staff.

She walked on, constantly looking at the ruts that the carriage wheels
had made in the road, and those who passed her could hear her muttering
unintelligibly. Her staff was in her right hand, and with her left she
still clutched the gold piece.

CHAPTER VIII.

The carriage moved along the road by the lake, and, at last, turning
the corner at the stone-pile, was out of sight. The hay on which
Walpurg