"Hallo!"
A rough voice had shouted it. And now a woman came up to them; the figure in the fluttering skirt was outlined big and clear against the rarefied ether that flowed around it.
Where had she come from so suddenly? From there, from behind the mound of earth that had been thrown up near the peat pit. She had been creeping on all fours plucking berries; a pail that was almost ft 11 hung on her arm, and in her right hand she carried the wooden measure and the large bone curry-comb with which she stripped off the berries.
That was the mother! Käte got a terrible fright; she turned pale.
Her husband was taken by surprise too. But then he gave a sigh of relief: that was decidedly the best way out of it. Of course, they might have known it at once, how should the child have come into the desolate Venn all alone? The mother had been looking for berries, and had put it down there meanwhile.
But the woman did not seem to take it kindly that they had looked so carefully after the child during her absence. The strong bony arms took it away from the lady somewhat roughly. The woman's eyes examined the strangers suspiciously.
"Is it your child?" asked Paul. He need not have asked the question; it had exactly the same dark eyes as the woman, only the child's were brighter, not dulled as yet by life's dust as the mother's were.
The woman made no answer. It was only when the man asked once more, "Are you the mother?" and put his hand into his pocket at the same time, that she found it worth while to give a curt nod:
"C'est l' mi'n."[A] Her face retained its gloomy expression; there was no movement of pride or joy.