he going to give you? Well, what will you give her?" said the
peasant encouragingly. "I think you'll see that two hundred is too
little. The woman is very much attached to the child, it will not be
easy for her to give it up." He watched Paul Schlieben out of the
corner of his eye, and called out as they call out at an auction: "Two
hundred, two hundred and fifty, three hundred. 'Pon my word, it
isn't too much. Jean-Pierre is a fine boy--just look at his fists. And
his thighs. A splendid fellow." He noticed the longing expression in
Kate's eyes--"Three hundred thalers is not worth talking about for the
boy, is it, ma'am?"

Kate had tears in her eyes and was very pale. The air in the cottage
oppressed her, it was all very repugnant to her--let them only get away
quickly from there. But not without the child. "Four hundred--five
hundred," she jerked out, and she gazed imploringly at her husband as
though to say: "Do settle it quickly."

"Five hundred, willingly." Paul Schlieben drew out his pocket-book.

The peasant craned his neck forward the better to see. His eyes were
quite stiff in his head, he had never seen anybody pay so willingly
before. The children, too, stared with wide-open eyes.

The woman cast a hasty glance at the notes the gentleman spread on
the table near the bread; but the covetous light that flashed in her
eyes disappeared suddenly again. "Neni," she said sullenly.

"Offer her some more--more," whispered the old man.

And Schlieben laid another couple of notes on the table beside the
others; his fingers trembled a little as he did it, the whole thing was
so unspeakably repugnant to him. He had never thought of haggling; they
should have what they wanted, only let them get done with it.

Nikolas Rocherath could not contain himself any longer at the sight
of such generosity--so much money on the table, and that woman could
still hesitate? He rushed up to her and shook her by the shoulders:
"Are you quite mad? Six hundred thalers on the table and you don't take
them? What man here can say he has six hundred thalers in cash? What
money, what a sum of money!" His emaciated face, which had grown very
haggard from years of toil and a life lived in wind and storm
and which was as sharply outlined as though cut out of hard wood,
twitched. His fingers moved convulsively: how was it possible that
anybody could still hesitate?

The axe which the woman still held fell out of her hand with a loud
noise. Wi