“Why do you then look so furious, and what are you seeking on the table?” asked Frau von Werrig. “My money,” cried Trude, vehemently. “I thought that you called me to pay me, and that my wages were all counted out on the table. But I see there is nothing there, and I fear I shall get none, and be poor as a church-mouse all my life long. Your honor promised me positively that, as soon as the wedding was decided upon, you would pay me every farthing, with interest, and I depended upon it.” “You shall have all, and much more than the general’s wife promised you, if you will be a true and faithful servant to us,” said Ebenstreit. “That I always have been, and ever shall be,” snarled Trude. “No person can say aught against me. Now, I want my money.” “And obstinate enough you have been too,” said her mistress. “Can you deny that you have not always taken my daughter’s part?” “I do not deny it. I have nursed her from childhood, and I love her as my own child, and would do any thing to make her happy!” “Do you believe, Trude,” cried the general, “that Marie could be happy with that poor, starving wretch of a school-master? Has she not experienced in her own home the misfortune and shame of poverty?” “I know it well,” sighed the old one, sadly, “and it has converted me to believe that it would be a great misfortune for Marie to marry the poor school-master.” “Well, will you then faithfully help us to prevent it?” quickly asked Ebenstreit. “How can I do it?” she sighed, shrugging her shoulder. “You can persuade my daughter to be reasonable, and yield to that which she cannot prevent. You are the only one who can make any impression upon Marie, as she confides in you. Watch her, that in a moment of passionate desperation she does not commit some rash act. You can tell us, further, what she says, and warn us of any crazy plan she might form to carry out her own will.” “That is to say, I must betray my Marie?” cried Trude, angrily. “No, not betray, but rescue her. Will you do it?” asked Ebenstreit. “I wish to be paid my wages, my two hundred thalers, that I have honestly earned, and I will have them.” Ebenstreit took a piece of paper from his pocket. Writing a few lines with a pencil, he laid it upon the table. “If you will take this to my cashier after the ceremony to-morrow, he will pay you four hundred thalers.” “Four hundred thalers in cash,” cried Trude, joyfully clapping her hands. “Shall all that beautiful money be mine, and--No, I do not believe you,” she cried, her face reassuming its gloomy, suspicious look. “You promise it to me to-day, that I may assist you, and persuade Marie to the marriage, but to-morrow, when old Trude is of no more use, you will send me away penniless. Oh, I know how it is. I have lived long enough to understand the tricks of rich people. I will see the cash first--only for that will I sell myself.”