"Oh, no! I don't know what you mean."
"I suppose it's the throbbing in my head," he replied. A neighbor stepped in and related in a low whisper some bit of unimportant gossip which Margaret listened to without interest. Then she went. "Mother!" called Frederick. Margaret went in to him. "What did Huelsmeyer's wife say?"
"Oh, nothing at all—lies, nonsense!" Frederick sat up. "About Gretchen Siemers; you know the old story well enough!—there isn't a word of truth in it either."
Frederick lay down again. "I'll see if I can sleep," he said.
Margaret was sitting by the hearth. She was spinning and thinking of rather unpleasant things. The village clock struck half-past eleven; the door opened and the court-clerk, Kapp, came in. "Good day, Mrs. Mergel," he said. "Can you give me a drink of milk? I'm on my way from M." When Mrs. Mergel brought what he wished, he asked "Where is Frederick?" She was just then busy getting a plate out and did not hear the question. He drank hesitatingly and in short draughts. Then he asked, "Do you know that last night the 'Blue Smocks' again cleared away a whole tract in the Mast forest as bare as my hand?"
"Oh, you don't mean it!" she replied indifferently.
"The scoundrels!" continued the clerk. "They ruin everything; if only they had a little regard at least for the young trees; but they go after little oaks of the thickness of my arm, too small even to make oars of! It looks as if loss on the part of other people were just as gratifying to them as gain on their own part!"
"It's a shame!" said Margaret.
The clerk had finished his milk, but still he did not go. He seemed to have something on his mind. "Have you heard nothing about Brandes?" he asked suddenly.
"Nothing; he never enters this house."