cousin; the wench shall never cross this threshold."--Frank turned deadly pale, and said with a voice that trembled from suppressed emotion: "That is enough. You need say no more, we must part. Louisa shall never cross your threshold, nor I either." With that he went away. Frida met him at the door, she had heard the loud voices in the next room and had come to see what was the matter: "Frank, Frank, what is it?" she asked.--"Good-bye, Frida," he said quickly and went out across the yard towards the bailiff's house. "Alick," cried Frida going up to her husband, "what have you been doing? What have you been doing?"--Alick walked proudly up and down the room as if conscious of having put the whole world right and of having shown it the way it ought to go: "I've been showing a young man," he said, "a young rustic, who has made a fool of himself for the sake of a fair face, what he is about. I made his position clear to him."--"Did you dare to do that?" said Frida, sinking into a chair pale and trembling. She fixed her great clear eyes on her husband as he continued his triumphal march and went on: "Did you _dare_ to thrust your petty pride of birth between two noble and loving souls?"--"Frida," said Alick, whose conscience told him he had done wrong, but who refused to acknowledge it, "I believe that I have done my duty."--It is a curious fact that those people who never do their duty, pride themselves most upon doing it.--"Oh," cried Frida, starting to her feet, "you have wounded a true and noble heart most sorely. Alick," she entreated, laying her clasped hands upon his shoulder, "Frank has gone to the bailiff's house, won't you follow him and say that you are sorry for having hurt him, and bring him back again to us?"--"Am I to beg his pardon before my bailiff? No thank you, I'd rather not do that! It is too good a joke," he said working himself into a rage, "I've been robbed of three hundred pounds, my bailiff orders me about, my cousin takes his beloved father-in-law's part, and now my own wife joins with them against me!"--Frida stared at him, let her hands fall, drew her shawl round her, and said: "If you won't go, I will."--As she left the room he called after her: "Go, go, but the old scoundrel shall leave my service." When she crossed the yard the horses were being put into Frank's carriage, and as she entered the parlour Hawermann had just said: "You'll forget it in time, Mr. von Rambow. Your life has hitherto been spent in a narrow circle of friends; you should travel--I think that you ought to do so--and then you'll soon change your mind. But, dear Frank," the old man added familiarly in memory of old times, "let me entreat of you not to bring unrest to my child by telling her of this."--"No, Hawermann, I promise," said Frank, and then Frida came in.--"Bless me!" cried Hawermann. "I quite forgot. Excuse me, Madam," and he left the room.