Her voice failed her, and her face bore a new, pained expression, while it was with difficulty she restrained the tears.  Frau von Eschenhagen felt she had gone too far in her candid statement.

“I do not want to annoy you, my child,” she said, unbending a little.  “I only wanted to make it clear to you that—­”

“Not want to annoy me when you say such things to me?” interrupted the girl with flashing eyes.  “You treat me like an outcast, not fit any longer for association with decent people, and why?  Because I earn my bread with the talent which God has given me, and give pleasure to mankind at the same time.  You traduce my old grandfather who made great sacrifices to have me well educated, and who saw me go out into the world with a heavy heart.  The bitter tears stood in his eyes as he clasped me in his arms, and said, as he bade me good-bye:  ’Be honest and true, my Marietta.  One can be that always, no matter what their road in life.  When I close my eyes on this world I shall have nothing to leave you.  You will have to fight your own battle.  Well, I have remained honest and true, and shall remain so, even though everything is not as easy for me as for Toni, the daughter of a rich father, who only leaves her parent’s home to go into her husband’s.  But I don’t envy her the happiness of calling you mother.”

“Fraeulein Volkmar, you forget yourself,” said the insulted mother drawing herself to her full height.  But Marietta wasn’t going to be silenced now, she was too excited.

“O, no, it is not I who forget myself.  It was you who insulted me without cause, and the head forester and Antonie must be well under your influence to turn away from me.  But no matter.  I do not desire the friendship of any girl who will allow herself to be bullied and brow-beaten by a mother-in-law.  I am done, once for all.  Tell Toni I say that, Frau von Eschenhagen.”

She turned away with a passionate motion and left the room.  In the front one, however, she could retain her composure no longer, and the hot tears, kept back so bravely until now, forced themselves from her eyes.  With a passionate sob the young girl leaned her head against the wall and wept bitterly.  She heard her name called in a low, trembling tone, and turning, she saw Willibald von Eschenhagen, in his hand the very paper which he had so hastily concealed in his pocket.  It was crumpled now, but within, as he unfolded the paper, lay a delicate spray of leaves with two fragrant half-blown roses.

“Fraeulein Volkmar,” he stammered again.  “You wished for a rose, please accept—­” In his eyes and in his whole bearing one could read plainly that he deplored his mother’s ruthless candor.  Marietta repressed her sobs, the tears were still glistening in her eyes, as she looked up at him with an expression of disdain and contempt.

“I thank you, Herr von Eschenhagen,” she said with acerbity.  “You heard distinctly the words which your mother spoke to me, and whatever else they may have meant, they most certainly meant that I was to be shunned.  Why do you not obey them?”