ored, in a tone of suppressed rapture.

He endeavoured to remain calm: after they had maturely considered
the matter, they would first have to talk it over with their lawyer in
Berlin, and other intimate friends.

Then she lost her temper. She pouted, and then she laughed at him:
was this a business matter? What had the lawyer and other people to do
with such a very important, quite personal and private matter? Nobody
was to be asked about it, nobody was to interfere with it. Not a single
person must suspect where the child came from or who were its parents.
They, he and she, were its parents, they were responsible for it, its
life had begun when they took it, and they vouched for its future. This
child was their work, their work entirely.

"We'll fetch it the first thing to-morrow. The sooner it gets out of
that dirt and misery the better--don't you agree with me, Paul?" She
did not give him a chance of saying anything more, she overwhelmed him
with plans and proposals, in her sparkling vivacity; and her exuberant
spirits overcame his scruples.

One can have too many scruples, be too cautious, and thus embitter
every pleasure in life, he said to himself. There was surely
nothing extraordinary in what they were doing? They only picked up
something that had been laid at their feet; in that way they were
obeying a hint given them by Fate. And there were really no
difficulties in connection with it. If they did not betray it
themselves nobody would find out about the child's antecedents, and
there would not be any questions asked in the village either as to what
had become of it. It was a nameless, homeless little creature they were
going to take away with them, of which they would make what they liked.
Later on when the little one was old enough they would formally adopt
it, and thus confirm also in writing what their hearts had already
approved of long ago. Now the only thing left to do was to get hold of
the vestryman at Longfaye, and make arrangements with the parents for
the surrender of the child with his assistance.

When Paul Schlieben had come to this decision, he was troubled with
the same restlessness as his wife. Oh, if only it were morning, she
groaned. If anybody should steal a march on them now, if the child
should no longer be there next morning? She tossed about in her
impatience and fear. But her husband also turned from side to side
without sleeping. How could they know whether the child was healthy