"And such a beautiful one!" added Anastasia. "A lovely little girl! She will be a Mary some day. But the sexton's wife is spoiling her, she hardly lets her out of her arms."
"A good mother--that must be beautiful!" said Freyer, with a strange expression, as if speaking in a dream. Then he pressed his friend's hand and turned to go.
"Will you not bid me good bye, too?" asked Anastasia. The sexton sadly made a sign behind Freyer's back, as if to say: "he has suffered sorely!" and went into his church.
Freyer turned quickly. "Yes, I forgot, my Mary. I am rude, am I not?"
"No--not rude--only unhappy!" said Anastasia, while a pitying look rested upon his emaciated face.
"Yes!" replied Freyer, lowering his lids as if he did not wish her to read in his eyes how unhappy. But she saw it nevertheless. For a time the couple stood beside Daisenberger's grave. "If he were only alive--he would know what would help you."
Freyer shook his head. "If Christ Himself should come from Heaven, He could not help me, at least except through my faith in Him."
"Joseph, will you not go home with me? Look down yonder, there is my house. It is very pretty; come with me. I shall consider it an honor if you will stop there!" She led the way. Freyer involuntarily followed, and they soon reached the little house.
"Then you no longer live with your brother, the burgomaster?"
"Oh, no! After I grew older I longed for rest and solitude, and at my sister-in-law's there is always so much bustle on account of the shop and the children--one hears so many painful things said--" She paused in embarrassment. Then opening the door into the little garden, they went to the rear of the house where they could sit on a bench undisturbed.