“You will see,” said she, calling the old woman, who entered from the opposite door.
Trude looked about, scowling and grumbling. “Leberecht told me my mistress called me.”
“Why do you then look so furious, and what are you seeking on the table?” asked Frau von Werrig.
“My money,” cried Trude, vehemently. “I thought that you called me to pay me, and that my wages were all counted out on the table. But I see there is nothing there, and I fear I shall get none, and be poor as a church-mouse all my life long. Your honor promised me positively that, as soon as the wedding was decided upon, you would pay me every farthing, with interest, and I depended upon it.”
“You shall have all, and much more than the general’s wife promised you, if you will be a true and faithful servant to us,” said Ebenstreit.
“That I always have been, and ever shall be,” snarled Trude. “No person can say aught against me. Now, I want my money.”
“And obstinate enough you have been too,” said her mistress. “Can you deny that you have not always taken my daughter’s part?”
“I do not deny it. I have nursed her from childhood, and I love her as my own child, and would do any thing to make her happy!”
“Do you believe, Trude,” cried the general, “that Marie could be happy with that poor, starving wretch of a school-master? Has she not experienced in her own home the misfortune and shame of poverty?”
“I know it well,” sighed the old one, sadly, “and it has converted me to believe that it would be a great misfortune for Marie to marry the poor school-master.”