“Do with me what you will!”
Then the count pronounced his sentence:—
“My mother has interceded for you. Therefore you may stay in my house. But hereafter it is she who commands, and you who obey.”
See the way of the penitent! The young countess has become the most humble of servants. How long? Oh, how long?
How long shall a proud heart be able to bend? How long can impatient lips keep silent; how long a passionate hand be held back?
Sweet is the misery of humiliation. When the back aches from the heavy work the heart is at peace. To one who sleeps a few short hours on a hard bed of straw, sleep comes uncalled.
Let the older woman change herself into an evil spirit to torture the younger. She thanks her benefactress. As yet the evil is not dead in her. Hunt her up at four o’clock every morning! Impose on the inexperienced workwoman an unreasonable day’s work at the heavy weaving-loom! It is well. The penitent has perhaps not strength enough to swing the scourge with the required force.
When the time for the great spring washing comes,[3] Countess Märta has her stand at the tub in the wash-house. She comes herself to oversee her work. “The water is too cold in your tub,” she says, and takes boiling water from a kettle and pours it over her bare arms.
The day is cold, the washerwomen have to stand by the lake and rinse out the clothes. Squalls rush by and drench them with sleet. Dripping wet and heavy as lead are the washerwomen’s skirts.