"Oh, stuff! I have it yet."
"Where? give it to me."
Annele opened a cupboard and showed him the plant. "I am thankful that you still have it," said Lenz, "for it will bring a blessing on us both."
"You seem pretty well out of your mind with your foolish superstitions," answered Annele. "Must I submit to that, too? There! fly away in the air, Edelweiss, along with the sacred inscription!"
She opened the window. A stormy wind was howling outside. "There, wind!" called she, "come! Carry it all off with you—the whole precious concern!" The writing and the plant were whirled away in a moment. The wind shrieked and whistled, and deposited the writing on the bleak hill.
"Annele, what have you done?" said Lenz with a groan.
"I am not superstitious like you; I am not so lost to common sense yet, as to place any faith in the benefit of a spell."
"It is no superstition. My mother only meant, that so long as my wife respected what came from her, it would bring us a blessing. But nothing is sacred in your eyes."
"Certainly, neither you nor your mother are."
"Enough!—not another word," cried Lenz in a hoarse voice, dashing down a chair. "Go with the boy out of the room. Not one word, or I shall go out of my senses.—Hush! some one is coming."