The children of the laborers upon the estate, coming out of school, saluted the gracious lady.
Bella stared at them. What becomes of these children? What is the use of this fatuous renewing of humanity?
As if to conceal herself from herself, she buried her face in a flowering shrub. She left the park; she saw in the court outside the dove cooing about his mate. The beautiful mate was so coy, picked up its food so quietly, hardly paying any attention to the tender gurgling, and then flew away to the house-top, where she trimmed her feathers. The dove flew after his mate, but she shook her head again and took flight.
Then as Bella was gazing with a fixed look, she saw a servant yoking some oxen. He first placed a pad upon the head of the beast, and over that a wooden yoke.
"This is the world! This is the world," said a voice within her. "A pad between yoke and head, a pad of thoughts, of got-up feelings."
The servant was astounded to see the gracious lady staring so fixedly, and now she asked him:—
"Does it not hurt them?" He did not understand what she meant, and she was obliged to repeat the question; he now replied:—
"The ox don't know anything different, he's made for just this. Since the gracious Herr has let the double yoke be taken off, and each ox has now his own yoke to himself, they're harder to manage, but they draw a deal easier than when they were double-yoked."
Bella shivered.
"Double yoke—single yoke," was sounding in her ears, and suddenly it seemed to her as if it were night, and she herself only a ghost wandering around. This house, these gardens, this world, all is but a realm of shadows that vanishes away.