"Mammie," cried Röschen joyously, as she came into the room, and letting her father's hand go she ran up to her mother. "I'm to give you Father Szypulski's kind regards. Oh, it was so beautiful! I'm so happy! I could sing the whole time, I----" Then, [Pg 121] catching sight of the schoolmaster, she curtseyed and held out her hand to him, blushing. Böhnke bent over her more than was necessary, for she reached up to his shoulders, but he wished to hide his gleaming eyes and his cheeks that were burning with excitement. He could not have looked Mr. Tiralla in the face at that moment. But the woman was perfectly calm. She had fully understood what it was the schoolmaster had said to her, and a feeling of profound relief filled her heart with joy. Ah, now the Holy Virgin was at last going to keep the promise she had given her through Rosa. She had sent her somebody who was on her side, and who would advise her and help her--for had he not clearly said, "I'll look after that"?--and who belonged to her alone. She felt so happy and cheerful now, so different. She kissed Rosa and even held out her cheek of her own accord when her husband, with a smirk on his face, reproached her for not having given him a single kiss that day. But all the time she kept her eyes fixed on the schoolmaster, who was standing at the window biting his lip. How could she be so calm, so bright, yes, really so bright? Böhnke couldn't understand it. He felt far from happy. He felt as though he had done a very stupid thing, as though he had allowed himself to be carried away by his emotions. He was seized with a sudden feeling of anger and indignation against Mrs. Tiralla; why had she complained to him, what had that disgusting tale of her marriage to do with him? But then when she gazed at him with her beautiful, sparkling eyes in that familiar, friendly way, and smiled at him with the same sweet smile that little Rosa had inherited from her, then his anger melted [Pg 122] as well as all his scruples. She had never seemed more lovely. Her white ball-dress had suited her well, but this short, plain, woollen skirt, which showed her neat feet and shiny leather slippers, the white apron, the check blouse and small white collar suited her a hundred times better. Oh, how beautiful, how beautiful she looked! His head was in a whirl. The farmer invited him to have supper with them, and he gladly accepted. He even accepted an invitation for Easter. Mr. Tiralla was basking in the light of his Sophia's smiles, and felt so happy that he would have liked to invite the whole world. He sat at the table and laughed as he satisfied his enormous appetite. It was still Lent, and the meal was frugal, "but at Easter, my little Böhnke," he cried, filling his mouth with fried potatoes, "at Easter you shall have a feast!" Mrs. Tiralla and the schoolmaster exchanged a glance. What impertinence to say, "my little Böhnke!" But he was always so rough and vulgar.