Perhaps—­her pulses again throbbed faster at the thought—­he had not ventured to come alone because some feeling for her stirred in his own heart, and, spite of his beautiful young wife, he did not feel safe from her.  Then Fran Schurstab was to serve as a shield.  This conjecture flattered her vanity and reconciled her to the step which she had taken and already began to regret.

But suppose he really felt no more for her than the forester who finds a child lost in the woods, and guides it into the right path?  How would she endure that?  Yet, were it otherwise, if he was like the rest of men, if he profited by what her whole manner must betray to him, how should she face his wife, who undoubtedly would soon come to call on her aunt?

All these questions roused a tumult of unprecedented violence in her young, ardent, inexperienced soul, which was renewed each successive night.  It became more and more difficult for her to understand why she had left Loni’s band and entered into relations for which she was not suited, and in which she could never, never be at ease or feel happy.

Nothing was lacking in this wealthy household, not even kindness and love.  Frau Sophia was indulgent and friendly, even when Kuni, whose heart and brain were occupied with so many other thoughts, neglected or forgot anything.  The matron’s grandchildren, of whom she often had charge, soon became warmly attached to her.  While among the rope-dancers she had been fond of children, and many a little one who journeyed with the band held out its arms to her more joyously than to its own mother.  There was something in her nature that attracted them.  Besides, her skilful hands could show them many a rare trick, and she could sing numerous songs new to the Schurstab boys and girls, which she had picked up here and there.  Then, too, she permitted many a prank which no one else would have allowed.  Her duties connected with the household linen and the poultry yard, its owner’s pride, were so easily performed, that in her leisure hours she often voluntarily helped the housekeeper.  At first the latter eyed her askance, but she soon won her affection.  Both she and her mistress showed her as much attention as the gardener bestows upon a wild plant which he has transferred to good soil, where it thrives under his care.

She kept aloof from the servants, and neither man nor maid molested her.  Perhaps this was due to foolish arrogance, for after they had learned from rumour that Kuni had danced on the tight rope, they considered themselves far superior.  The younger maids timidly kept out of her way, and Kuni surpassed them in pride and looked down upon them, because her free artist blood rebelled against placing herself on the plane of a servitor.  She did not vouchsafe them a word, yet neither did she allow any of them to render her even the most trivial service.  But she could not escape Seifried, the equerry of her mistress’s eldest son.  At first, according to her custom, she had roused the handsome fellow’s hopes by fiery glances which she could not restrain.  Now he felt that she cared for him, and in his honest fashion offered to make her his beloved wife; but she refused his suit, at first kindly, then angrily.  As he still persisted she begged the housekeeper, though she saw that matchmaking was her delight, to keep him away.