"On the contrary," she said softly, "it is I who should ask pardon for interrupting your school by my dreaded appearance. I meant to go to your dwelling-room, to take you the linen-cambric handkerchiefs that you need, but not knowing where it was, I knocked here by mistake. Have the kindness, Herr Leonhardt, to relieve me of this parcel, and I will relieve your pupils from their alarm."
The old man held out his hand to her, but she did not take it. "Never mind that; such a civility shown to me might deprive you of the children's respect."
"Oh, my dear Fräulein Hartwich," Leonhardt warmly entreated, "do not ascribe this folly to me, to whom it gives, of course, much more pain than it can to you, whose position is too exalted to allow you to heed such trifles; but to me it brings the bitter conviction that the labor of a lifetime has been in vain!" He ceased, and cast a sad, weary glance at the little flock crowded so closely together.
At his words the cold look in Ernestine's eyes vanished, and, for the first time, she regarded attentively the old man, who stood so respectfully, and yet so dignified, before her. His inflamed eyes revealed to her instantly the nature of the tragedy alluded to by her unknown friend, and she was filled with sympathy.
"We will talk together by-and-by, Herr Leonhardt," she whispered, so that the children should not hear what she said. "Now let me go."
"Will you have the great kindness, Fräulein Hartwich, to go and see my wife for awhile?" said Leonhardt "It would give her such pleasure,--she is in the opposite room."
"Most certainly I will. I will wait for you there."
She turned to go; but Leonhardt, seeing that the children were now more quiet, and hoping to show her that their folly was not as great as it had seemed, cried to the foremost ones of the throng, "You have behaved foolishly and naughtily before Fräulein Hartwich. Come, show her that you can be better, and bid her good-by, like good children."
The children stood motionless. The old man, distressed at their conduct, looked around the room, and said, "Will none of you shake hands with her for my sake?"
"I will," said Käthchen's clear, childish voice; and the fearless little girl, who had only followed the example of the others, walked up to Fräulein von Hartwich, and offered her chubby little hand to be shaken, and her berry-stained lips to be kissed. Ernestine stooped and kissed the little, pouting lips, and looked kindly into the pretty child's frank, sparkling eyes.