"Then she begged for a little milk for the babe, for her own was diminishing from hour to hour. But no one would give her any, and she wandered on. I went after her, for I could no longer lose hold of her. Suddenly I saw some one come up behind me—a terrible woman, with stony face and wild hair. She came nearer, ever nearer, and as she was close upon me she laughed hoarsely—
"'You have done your work well. It is my turn now, for I am Despair.'
"The wind was howling anew, and a snow storm began that even took away my breath. Willi thought she had walked away, but in the dead of the night she found herself once more at the entrance of the same village. She seated herself in a hedge half dead with cold and hunger. The babe in her arms whimpered unceasingly, only from time to time it cried aloud. In the morning she roused herself with an effort, and once more begged for a drop of milk at various doors. She was scolded anew. Once a boy gave her a piece of bread, she could not eat it. She tried twice, three times, to swallow the hard, cold pieces. Then the child whined again. She shook her head and threw the bread into the snow. Slowly she dragged herself onwards, till she came near the river, already covered with a thin crust of ice, on which lay the fresh fallen snow. The wind had lulled, but the sky was still leaden gray and a new snowstorm threatened. The fearful woman stepped past me towards Willi, who now stood on the bridge staring down abstractedly. She laid her hand upon her shoulder. Willi turned her head slowly; but when she saw the stony eyes she shrieked and the child fell out of her arms. I heard the ice crack and crackle, and then there was nothing more. Willi lay on the ground unconscious, and people who were just passing the bridge peeped down, shook their heads and raised her up. I do not know where they took her, beautiful Willi with her wild shock of fair hair and her bright brown eyes. Oh, mother, what have I done! Can you not help?"
"Not yet," said Patience, and looked dreamingly in front of her, "but I shall help when it is time."
Winter was past, the world began to stir anew, the tomtits and blackbirds twittered, in the fields there was merry life, when Willi stood before her judges accused of infanticide. She was white as a sheet, her eyes gleamed unnaturally from out of dark hollows, and to all questions she only replied by a shake of the head. Brow and lips had a strange expression. Was it the reflection of that terrible face that had stared at her on the bridge, or of the thoughts with which she had wrestled in prison?
In the whole assembly there reigned breathless silence and strained expectation. The judge's voice grew momentarily sharper, more incisive.
"Do you not know, then, that your life is in danger if you give no answer?" was sounding from his lips, when there arose a commotion in the assembly.
All turned towards the door, by which entered the Holt farmer. He was bowed down, his hair was white and there were deep furrows in his face. When Willi saw him her hand clutched into a fist, which she raised threateningly. Of a sudden she let it sink. She knew not what came to her, but something soft laid itself round her heart that seemed to melt its ice. Invisible to all, behind the farmer, some one else had stepped into court; it was Mother Patience. She saw with a glance that things were not well for Willi. Like a soft, tender air of spring, she passed by all assembled, touched Willi's hard brow, whispered some words to her counsel, began to dictate questions to the judge, and stretched out her hand to support the farmer.
The whole aspect of the room was changed. Even the pale youth Death, who stood behind Willi and waited for her, retired a few steps. It would seem as if this time she would escape him.