"For Heaven's sake let me not be ill now! I have no time for it--I mustn't be ill now"--as if in anger at her bodily weakness. Determined to overcome it by force, she got up; but how she started back when she looked at herself in the glass! Her whole face was swollen! "That's your punishment," she said, half-aloud, "for running about so last night, and wanting to call upon strangers, even bad people, to help you!" She beat her disfigured face as if to chastise herself, and then tied a cloth around it tightly and went about her work. When the mistress saw her, she wanted to put her to bed again at once. Rose, on the other hand, scolded, and declared that it was a bit of spite on Barefoot's part, this being ill just now--she had done it out of meanness, knowing that she would be wanted. Barefoot made no reply. When she was out in the cow-shed, putting clover into the mangers, she heard a clear voice say: "Good morning! At work so early?" It was _his_ voice. "Not very hard," replied Barefoot; and she ground her teeth with vexation, more on account of the tormenting demon who had disfigured her face, so that it was impossible that he should recognize her, than anything else. Should she make herself known now?--it was better to wait and see. While she was milking, John asked her all sorts of questions; first he inquired about the quantity of milk the cows yielded, and whether any of it was sold, and how; then he wanted to know who made the butter, and if anybody in the house kept an account of it. Barefoot trembled. It was now in her power to put her rival out of the way by declaring what kind of a person she was! But how strangely involved and tangled are the strings of action! She was ashamed of the idea of speaking evil of her master's family, though, in truth, she would have spoken so only of Rose, for the others were good. But she was aware that it was shameful for a servant to betray the faults of the inner management of the house. She therefore secured herself from this by saying to herself: "It does not become a servant to judge his master. And they are all good-hearted," she added, prompted by her strong sense of justice. For, in truth, Rose, too, was good-hearted, in spite of her hot temper and domineering spirit. And now a good idea occurred to her; if she were to tell the truth about Rose now, he would go away directly and would certainly escape from Rose--but then he would be gone. Therefore, with wonderful good sense, she said: "You seem to be a prudent man, and your parents have a name for prudence, too. Now, you know that in one day one cannot get to know even a horse properly, and so I think you ought to stay here a little while. Later on we two will get to know each other better, and one word will bring on another, and if I can be of service to you, I will not fail you. I don't know, however, why you question me like this--?"