At dinner that morning the dishes would have been carried out as full as they were brought in, if Master Peter had not done his best to hinder it; and as soon as the meal was over I could no longer bear myself in the house, but went off straight to the Pernharts’.

There the air seemed warmer and lighter, and Mistress Giovanna welcomed me to her new home right gladly; but she would not suffer me to go to Ann’s chamber, forasmuch as that she had a terrible headache and had prayed to see no one, not even me.  Yet I felt strongly drawn to her, and as the new-made wife knew that she and I were as one she did not forbid me from going upstairs, where Pernhart had made dead Gertrude’s room all clean and fresh for Ann.  Now whereas I knew that when her head ached every noise gave her pain, I mounted the steps with great care and opened the door softly without knocking.  Also she was not aware of my coming.  I would fain have crept away unseen; or even rather would have fallen on my knees by her side to crave her forgiveness for the bitter wrong my brother had done her.  She was lying on the bed, her face hidden in the pillows, and her slender body shook as in an ague fit, while she sobbed low but right bitterly.  Nor did she mark my presence there till I fell on my knees by the bed and cast my arms about her.  Then she suddenly raised herself from the pillows, passed her hand across her wet eyes, and entreated me to leave her.  Yet I did not as she bade me; and when she saw how deeply I took her griefs to heart, she rose from her couch, on which she had lain down with all her clothes on, and only prayed me that this should be the last time I would ever speak with her of Herdegen.

Then she led me to her table and showed me things which she had laid out thereon; poor little gifts which my brother had brought her; every one, except only the Petrarca with the names in gold:  Anna-Laura.  And she desired that I would take them all and send them back to Herdegen at some fitting time.

As I nodded sadly enough, she must have seen in my face that I missed the little volumes and, ere I was aware, she had taken them out of her chest and thrown them in with the rest.

Then she cried in a changed voice:  “That likewise—­Ah, no, not that!  It is the best gift he ever made me, and he was so good and kind then—­You do not know, you do not know!—­How I long to keep the books!  But away, away with them!”

Then she put everything into a silken kerchief, tied it up with hard knots, pushed the bundle into my hand, and besought me to go home.

I went home, sick at heart, with the bundle in my cold hand, and when the door was opened by Akusch, who, poor wight, bore our bitter winters but ill, I heard from above-stairs loud and right merry laughter and glee; and I knew it for the voice of Cousin Maud who seemed overpowered by sheer mirth.  My wrath flared up, for our house this day was of a certainty the last where such merriment was fitting.