"How it came about I know not, but all at once I had seized her firmly by the arm. 'There before you lies Bütze, Susanna Mattoni!' I cried, sternly. She started, and gave a little cry; her face had grown pale, but her eyes sparkled in rebellion.
"'You punish me like a naughty child!' she cried, her lips quivering. 'What wrong have I done? I followed you without opposition.'
"'Ask your own heart, Susanna,' I returned, gravely. She blushed, and then began to cry bitterly, incessantly.
"'Isa! Isa!' she sobbed.
"'Are you really crying about Isa?' I asked, gently now, and took her hand. 'I do not believe it, Susanna; you have some other grief. Only place confidence in me. Could I not help you, if you were frank?'
"She pushed away my hand. 'No, never, never!' she burst out, violently.
"'But if I only knew what is the matter with you, Susanna, I might, with a word——'
"She stopped crying, and a defiant expression came over her face. 'I really want no sympathy,' she said, with a gesture of inimitable pride. 'There is nothing the matter with me; am I not to be allowed to cry when the person who watched over my childhood lies ill and alone in a strange house?'
"I was silent; I thought where I had found her to-day—not indeed at the sick-bed! And she understood my silence better than my words, for she dropped her eyes in embarrassment, and remained quiet during the whole drive. Ah, and it was such a sunny day! I followed a lark with my eyes, as it joyously and on trembling wings rose high in the blue sky, till it looked like a mere dot. A herd of deer ran away over the stubble as we drove quickly past; in the meadows over yonder the peasant's cows were feeding; far in the distance earth and sky blended in a blue haze; and now the roofs of Bütze emerged, peaceful and sunny, from the dark foliage of the oaks and elms—the dear old father-house! To me it seemed all at once as if I were coming home from a long journey from distant lands.
"Anna Maria was standing in the door-way, with apron and bunch of keys, as ever. She had a few beautiful white asters in her hand, and as Susanna came up the steps she said, drawing the girl to her: 'Thank God, Susanna, that you have returned unharmed; it was a bad night!' And she shyly put the flowers in the girl's little hand, beside the bunch of roses. One could see that she was really pleased. 'How is Isa doing?' she asked, 'and how is Stürmer's arm?' She turned to me when she saw that Susanna had been crying, and on my reply that the condition of both was hopeful, she turned again to Susanna.