to the hungry
mouth; there were drops of the juice from the berries on its baby
lips.

"Quite alone?" Kate had sunk down on her knees, her hands trembled
as they embraced the bundle. "Oh, the poor child. How sweet it is.
Look, Paul. How has it come here? It will die of cold, of
hunger. Do call out, Paul. The poor little mite. If its mother came now
I would give her a piece of my mind it's disgraceful to let the
helpless little mite lie like this. Call--loud--louder."

He called, he shouted: "Heigh! Hallo! Is nobody there?"

No voice answered, nobody came. The whole Venn was as quiet as
though it were an extinct, long-forgotten world.

"Nobody is coming," whispered Kate quite softly, and there was an
expression of fear and at the same time trembling exultation in her
voice. "Its mother does not trouble--who knows where the woman is? I
wonder if she's coming?" She looked round searchingly, turned her head
in all directions, and then stooped over the child again with a sigh of
contentment.

What unpardonable thoughtlessness--no, what unspeakable barbarity
to abandon such a mite in that place. If they had come only a few
hours--only an hour later. It might already have been bitten by a snake
then, might even have been torn to pieces by a wolf.

Then her husband had to laugh, although the sight of her
over-excitement had slightly annoyed him. "No, my child, there are no
poisonous snakes here and no more wolves either, so you can be at rest
about that. But when the mists begin to rise, they would have done for
him."

"Oh!" Kate pressed the foundling to her bosom. She was sitting on
her heels holding the child in her lap; she stroked its rosy cheeks,
its little downy head, and showered caresses and flattering words on
it, but the child continued to gaze into the luminous space with its
large, dark, and yet so clear eyes. It did not smile, but it did not
cry either; it took no notice whatever of the strangers.

"Do you think it has been left here intentionally?" asked Kate
suddenly, opening her eyes wide. The blood flew to her head in a hot
wave. "Oh then--then"--she drew a trembling breath and pressed the
child to her bosom, as though she did not want to let it go again.

"It will all be cleared up somehow," said the man evasively. "The
mother will be sure to come."

"Do you see her--do you see her?" she inquired almost anxiously.

"No."

"No." She repeated it in a relieved tone of voice, and then she
laughed.