His cheeks were no longer pale, far from it, no more than Katharina’s were; they were crimson!  How bright his eyes were, how radiant with satisfaction and gladness!—­She only wished she were a viper to sting them both in the heel!—­At the same time Paula had lost none of her proud and noble dignity—­and he?  He gazed at his companion like a rapt soul; she fancied she could see the folds of his mourning cloak rising and falling with the beating of his heart.  Paula, too, was in mourning.  Of course.  They were one; his sorrow must be hers, although she had fled from his father’s house as though it were a prison.  And of course this virtuous beauty knew full well that nothing became her better than dark colors!  In manner, gait and height this pair looked like two superior beings, destined for each other by Fate; Katharina herself could not but confess it.

Some spiteful demon—­a friendly one, she thought—­led them past her, so close that her sharp ears could catch every word they said as they slowly walked on, or now and then stood still, dogged by the agile water-wagtail, who stole along parallel with them on the other side of the hedge.

“I have so much to thank you for,” were the first words she caught from Orion, “that I am shy of asking you yet another favor; but this one indeed concerns yourself.  You know how deep a blow was struck me by little Mary’s childish hand; still, the impulse that prompted her had its rise in her honest, upright feeling and her idolizing love of you.”

“And you would like me to take charge of her?” asked Paula.  “Such a wish is of course granted beforehand -only. . . .”

“Only?” repeated Orion.

“Only you must send her here; for you know that I will never enter your doors again.”

“Alas that it should be so!—­But the child has been very ill and can hardly leave the house at present; and—­since I must own it—­my mother avoids her in a way which distresses the child, who is over-excited as it is, and fills her with new terrors.”

“How can Neforis treat her little favorite so?”

“Remember,” said Orion, “what my father has been to my poor mother.  She is now completely crushed:  and, when she sees the little girl, that last scene of her unhappy husband’s life is brought back to her, with all that came upon my father and me, beyond a doubt through Mary.  She looks on the poor little thing as the bane of the family?”

“Then she must come away,” said Paula much touched.  “Send her to us.  Kind and comforting souls dwell under Rufinus’ roof.”

“I thank you warmly.  I will entreat my mother most urgently. . . .”

“Do so,” interrupted Paula.  “Have you ever seen Pulcheria, the daughter of my worthy host?”

“Yes.—­A singularly lovable creature!”

“She will soon take Mary into her faithful heart—­”

“And our poor little girl needs a friend, now that Susannah has forbidden her daughter to visit at our house.”