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.

Even in March Frau Sophia thanked Lienhard for the new inmate of her household, who far exceeded her expectations.  In April her praise became still warmer, only she regretted that Kuni’s pretty face was losing its fresh colour and her well-formed figure its roundness.  She was sorry, too, that she so often seemed lost in thought, and appeared less merry while playing with the children.

Lienhard and his young wife excused the girl’s manner.  Comfortable as she was now, she was still a prisoned bird.  It would be unnatural, nay, suspicious, if she did not sometimes long for the old freedom and her former companions.  She would also remember at times the applause of the multitude.  The well-known Loni, her former employer, had besought him to win her back to his company, complaining loudly of her loss, because it was difficult to replace her with an equally skilful young artist.  It was now evident how mistaken the juggler had been when he asserted that Kuni, who was born among vagrants, would never live in a respectable family.  He, Lienhard, had great pleasure in knowing that the girl, on the road to ruin, had been saved by Frau Sophia’s goodness.