My son-in-law, the Major, left on a long furlough. I have never yet been able to discover whether he passed his time in Paris or in Berlin.
The work and the angry debates in Parliament taxed our patience and endurance to the utmost.
When I returned to my home, I was frightened by my wife's appearance; her face showed the traces of great suffering. Although I took all pains to prevent her from seeing that I noticed it, she discovered my concern, and assured me that she was feeling quite well, but was sometimes weak; and that all would be right again in the summer, when she would accompany Annette to the springs. She was so active and cheerful that I silenced my fears. She had already learned of the death of our grandson Martin, and spoke of it with calmness.
She informed me of Martella's kind and considerate behavior. Rothfuss had been sick again, and even now was only able, with great exertion, to drag himself about the house. Martella took charge of all his duties, and, what with this and her instructions from mother and Annette, was kept quite busy; but she was never so happy and cheerful as when full of work.
My wife took great pleasure in explaining to me what strange counterparts Annette and Martella were.
Annette was endeavoring to free herself from the effects of overwrought culture and to get back to simplicity. Martella, who had become conscious of her own simplicity, was vexed thereat, and with iron industry sought to acquire the rudiments of an education. Annette had always lived out of herself; Martella had always lived within herself. Annette had always tried to subject everything to critical analysis: Martella was merely artless impressibility.
It was certainly a strange pair that my wife was teaching to keep step with each other.
With great self-control Annette had accustomed herself to the quiet winter life of the village. She often said that she would leave in a few days. She seemed determined not to commit herself by any promise, in order that she might from day to day make new resolutions. When I told her that she was thus making both herself and us uncomfortable, she promised to remain until I should advise her to leave. She admitted that it was pleasant to her to be guided by another's will. She spun assiduously, and, like a diligent child, showed me the result of her labor.
The old spinner maintained that Annette was learning all the secrets of her art. In spite of this, she was at times unable to control her restless spirits. She had the snow cleared away from the pond, and went skating on the ice, while half of the village stood around looking at her. My sons had sometimes skated on this pond; but it was quite a different sight to see the tall, handsome lady, with the black feather in her hat and the closely fitting pelisse trimmed with fur. She ordered a pair of skates for Martella, but could never induce the child to try them.
Annette left us occasionally in order to spend a few days with Baroness Arven. On her return it would always seem as if a wondrous change had come over her.