"A pretty name, too! I think you'll keep it."
"Keep my name! Why, who can take it from me? I was christened Walpurga, and I've been called so ever since childhood."
"Don't agitate yourself, dear Walpurga," said the stewardess, with much feeling. "Yes, pray be calm," added she, "and whenever anything displeases you, tell me of it, and I'll see that it is remedied. You ought to be contented and happy always; and now, sit in this arm-chair, or if you'd rather lie on the sofa and rest yourself, do so. Make yourself perfectly at home."
"This will do very well," said Walpurga, ensconcing herself in the great arm-chair and resting her hands upon her knees. Mademoiselle Kramer now ordered one of the serving-maids to bring in some good beef broth and wheaten bread for the nurse. Turning toward Walpurga, she saw that she was crying bitterly.
"For God's sake, what's the matter? You're not frightened or worried about anything? What are you crying for?"
"Let me cry. It does me good. My heart's been heavy for ever so long. I suppose you'll let me cry when I can't help it. I didn't know what I was doing when I said 'yes.' God's my witness, I never thought it would be like this!"
"What has happened? Who has done anything to you? For God's sake, don't cry; it will do you harm, and I'll be reprimanded for having allowed it. Just tell me what you want; I'll do all I can for you."
"All I want of you is to let me cry. Oh, my child! Oh, Hansei! Oh, mother!--But now I'm all right again. I'll be calm. I'm here now, and must make the best of it."
The soup was brought. Mademoiselle Kramer held a spoonful to Walpurga's lips, and said:
"Take something, my dear, and you'll soon feel better."