She said nothing to Damie about all this.  But when she examined his wardrobe, and with great difficulty induced Black Marianne to let her have on credit some of the old woman’s heaped-up stores of linen, and when she began to cut out this linen and sat up at night making shirts of it—­all these steady and active preparations made Damie almost tremble.  To be sure, he had acted all along as if his plan of emigrating were irrevocably fixed in his mind—­and yet now he seemed almost bound to go, to be under compulsion, as if his sister’s strong will were forcing him to carry out his design.  And his sister seemed almost hard-hearted to him, as if she were thrusting him away to get rid of him.  He did not, indeed, dare to say this openly, but he began to grumble and complain a good deal about it, and Barefoot looked upon this as suppressed grief over parting—­the feeling that would gladly take advantage of little obstacles and represent them as hindrances to the fulfilment of a purpose one would gladly leave unfulfilled.

First of all she went to old Farmer Rodel, and in plain words asked him to let her have at once the legacy that he had promised her long ago.

The old man replied: 

“Why do you press it so?  Can’t you wait?  What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me, but I can’t wait.”

Then she told him that she was fitting out her brother who was going to emigrate to America.  This was a good chance for old Rodel; he could now give his natural hardness the appearance of benevolence and prudent forethought.  Accordingly he declared to Barefoot that he would not give her one farthing now, for he did not want to be responsible for her ruining herself for that brother of hers.

Barefoot then begged him to be her advocate with Scheckennarre.  At last he was induced to consent to this; and he took great credit to himself for thus consenting to go begging to a man he did not know on behalf of a stranger.  He kept postponing the fulfilment of his promise from day to day, but Barefoot did not cease from reminding him of it; and so, at last, he set forth.

But, as might have been anticipated, he came back empty-handed; for the first thing Scheckennarre did was to ask how much Farmer Rodel himself was going to give, and when he heard that Rodel, for the present, was not going to give anything, his course, too, was clear and he followed it.

When Barefoot told Black Marianne how hurt she felt at this hard-heartedness, the old woman said: 

“Yes, that’s just how people are!  If a man were to jump into the water tomorrow and be taken out dead, they would all say:  ’If he had only told me what was amiss with him, I should have been very glad to help him in every way and to have given him something.  What would I not give now, if I could restore him to life!’ But to keep a man alive, they won’t stir a finger.”