"Some trouble oppressed the old woman; it was always to be observed that when anything weighed on her heart she used to smooth her hands over the hem of her apron, and therewith take aim at the person on whom she had designs. For a little while I watched it to-day, but when, after tying my shoes, she remained sitting on the deal floor, stroking her dazzlingly white apron, and seeking for a way to begin her speech, evidently a difficulty to her, I said: 'Well, speak out, Brockelmann; what is it?'
"But instead of an answer she threw her apron over her face and began to weep bitterly.
"'Do write, gracious Fräulein, for the master to come back soon, or things will not go right in my life-time with Anna Maria,' she sobbed. 'It eats into my heart like a worm that he went away without a good-by. She says nothing, but, Fräulein, I have known her ever since she was born; I know her as well as I do myself. She stays for hours in the master's room, and when she comes out her eyes are red with weeping, and then it is always: "Brockelmann, the master would certainly do this so, and wish that so," and "When the master is here," or "When the master comes," is the third word with her. When Christian brings the mail she runs out into the court to meet him, and the first time the master wrote I was just going through the room, as she read the letter. She did not see me, but I saw how the letter trembled in her hands, and then she said to herself: "He is different from what he used to be; it is past!" And then she got up and went into the garden, and I looked after her and watched her as I used to when she was yet a wild thing with long braids. And then she walked up and down by the spot where her mother lies buried, up and down, up and down, oh! certainly for an hour. It was nothing to her that it rained, and that the wind blew her half to pieces. At last I went out there and asked her something about the housekeeping; I could not see it any longer. Then she came in with me. But last night, when she came back from the fire, when I had brought her a glass of mulled wine, she looked so wretched. When I knew she was in her own room I took it to her—I did not wish to disturb her here. But listen, Fräulein Rosamond, when I went in there Anna Maria had just been crying, crying as if her heart would break. She did not see me; she had laid her head on the table, and on Herr Klaus's picture, and her whole body shook and trembled. Then I closed the door again softly, for, believe me, it would have been dreadful to her to have had any one see that she was crying. Indeed, she does not like it if anybody cries aloud. But to-day I could not rest. Only write, Fräulein; when the master is here all will be well again!'
"'Ah, good old Brockelmann, if that would settle it! Yes, Klaus would come, but it would never be again as it used to be, never again!'
"The old woman took my silence for acquiescence. 'And, Fräulein,' she continued, drying her eyes, 'I know perfectly well since when things have been different. If I had had the power I would have said to Christian at the time when the coach came driving into the yard with the theatrical people: "Turn around, for Heaven's sake, Christian; these are birds which are not suited to this nest!" But, good heavens, some of us are silent, and see and hear! The master is so kind-hearted, Fräulein, so kind-hearted; God grant that it may remain kind-heartedness! I could have fretted myself to death when it was rumored in the servants' hall, and in the village, that the Ma'm'selle who had snowed down was not unpleasing to the master. In Rieke, it has gone to a blockhead; she was not bad, but what is the use—the talk is once out—if Fräulein Anna Maria only doesn't hear of it, although it is nothing but lies,' she continued, after a short pause, and looked at me confidently, 'for the master could have the fairest and best any day, and doesn't need to wait upon such a vagabond thing, yet it would make the Fräulein ill if she were to hear of it.'
"'So the servants are already talking about it,' said I softly, when the old woman had gone. 'And they are not far from the truth! Brockelmann, too, only sings so loud because she has fears, and she wanted to know what I thought of it. But Anna Maria will not believe, Anna Maria has other troubles.'
"As I went down to get into the carriage which was to carry me to Dambitz, Anna Maria was just coming out of Klaus's room. She was quiet and friendly as usual; there was no sign of yesterday's tumult. She asked how I had slept, and said she had just come in from the fields. 'The harvest is a blessing of God this year,' she added; 'look at the crops as you drive past the rye-fields. How pleased Klaus will be!' And as I was sitting in the carriage, she put a little parcel into my hand: 'Give that to Stürmer for the burned-out people, will you, please? Klaus will approve.' She was blushing crimson. 'It is out of the milk-fund; you know that is my own!'
"Touched, I nodded to her, and then the carriage rolled away with me, in the misty autumn morning. What a refreshing odor came from the pine-forests; a golden mist hung over the distant heath, and the sky seemed higher and bluer than I had seen it for a long time. And yet it seemed as if I were breathing the heavy air before a thunder-storm the nearer I came to Dambitz and the shaded manor-house. We drove past the burned houses; the charred beams and timbers were still smoking, and thin columns of smoke circled up from the ruins; a loathsome odor lay about the unfortunate spot, but human hands were already at work again. The blacksmith's shop was half demolished, the gabled wall was warped by the heat of the fire, and the blacksmith's young wife was bravely rummaging among her household goods, which had been thrown, nolens volens, into the street, a promiscuous heap of beds, clothing, and furniture. A little woman was sitting on a chest, weeping bitterly; it was her husband who had met with the fatal accident last night, the coachman told me. A young girl of perhaps sixteen was hunting about the half-burned and partially wet rubbish; her eyes were swollen with weeping.
"'You poor people,' thought I; 'no one can give you back what has been taken from you, but we will help to replace the earthly property.' And I looked at the small but heavy roll in my hand; it was a not insignificant sum in gold. Well for him who can give, and gives gladly and lovingly!
"We now drove along by the park wall; the great gate of skilfully wrought iron stood open; the luxuriant foliage of the beautiful park here parted, and let the eye roam over velvety green lawns and broad flower-beds to the white, castle-like buildings. Awnings protected the terrace from the sun's rays, and a black and white flag waved gayly in the morning wind. A delicious freshness lay over the garden; not a yellow leaf was yet to be seen on the broad gravel-walk; everywhere most painstaking neatness.