They began to consider the matter, and I heard the lady say that she would much rather give me the money, in order to enable me to travel home, since she hated to know that I was in Buda-Pesth. The only thing to do was to keep my trunk back. After that talk she turned to me, and threw seventeen shillings on the table.
"There," she said, in a terrible voice, "out with you, but the trunk is to remain here."
I took the money and looked round for the children, but they had left the room. In the kitchen I met the parlourmaid, who had listened the whole time. She opened the front door for me, and mockingly bowed me out. When I had reached the street I ran as fast as I could to the station, inquired for the next train to Vienna, and, two hours later, sat in one of its compartments. Pressing myself hard into a corner, I looked round now and again very shyly and very carefully, because I thought that I had heard someone call: "You wretch! you miserable wretch! You dirty, dirty thing! You——."
I trembled all over with excitement, and closed my eyes; but although utterly sad at heart, I shed no tears that night. We reached Vienna the next morning, and for a few moments I thought of calling upon my brother. But I gave up the idea. Would he not only scorn and despise me? So I travelled on to Langenau. It was dark when the train steamed into the well-known little station, and I hastened home. The children were all fast asleep, but my parents were still up. Both of them were startled to see me, and besieged me with anxious questions. I said that the whole family with whom I had been had died. Later on my father also went to bed, and I was alone with my mother.
"Where is your trunk?" she asked me.
I replied that it was going to be sent on to me.
There was a lengthy pause, during which my mother stared at me thoughtfully.
"I believe you have got no luck," she said at last.
"I am sure I haven't," I said, watching a great black spider that crept slowly along the wooden floor.
I stayed at home now, and as I did not care to meet any of my old acquaintances I never left the house. There was hardly anybody who knew that I had come back. It is true that I longed to see Miss Risa de Vall, but since I had no decent clothes in which to visit her I would not write to her. My mother kept on asking when my trunk would come, and I answered always, "I expect to-morrow."