One of the windows was open. The strange perfume of fermenting earth, which to-day he could not get out of his nostrils, flooded the apartment. But here it might possibly come from a lime heap, which had been shovelled up at the gable end of the house.
From minute to minute his unrest increased. Why shorten for him and her the all too scanty time? He could tolerate solitude no longer, and got up with the intention of going into the kitchen, but when on the threshold he saw her cowering on the hearth with naked shoulders, mending her jacket by the firelight,--he retreated, shocked. But in a few seconds she came herself to open the door to him, fully dressed.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Herr?" she asked respectfully.
"Show me where you have repaired the roof," he replied, not being able to think of anything else to say. He praised her work, without looking at it. Then he took up a position on the hearth and stared at the tongues of flame in the grate. By this time it was nearly dark, and the firelight flickered on the rush walls.
"I'll help you to cook," he said.
"Ah, Herr! You are laughing at me," she answered. But her face lighted up with pleasure.
"What am I to have for supper?"
"There isn't much in the house, Herr. Eggs and fried ham--a fresh salad--and that's all."
"I shall thank God if I----" he stopped abruptly.
He had nearly betrayed the secret of which as yet she had no suspicion, and she should not, must not, suspect anything. Till the dawn of to-morrow her felicity should last.