The large room, with its gray damp walls and uneven floor, was almost empty. One little table alone was occupied. The people seated there were a young couple in comfortable traveling attire. The man appeared to be about thirty years of age. He had light hair, and his expression was good-natured and energetic. His companion was a dark-complexioned and beautiful woman, whose bright eyes sparkled in her happy, pleasant face. That they were newly married was evident, and they talked and laughed and joked as they ate. They were enjoying but a poor meal, consisting of bread and eggs, for they had considered the prices of the tavern extortionate. The three women sat down in a corner. "That is our Frau Graefin's head forester," whispered one woman to the other; "he has just married a young wife in Czernowitz, and now he must be bringing her home to Barnow." "To Barnow?" asked Miriam hastily; but she sank back in her chair again--she had to go to Sadagora. The women ordered refreshment, and Miriam ate a mouthful or two. She soon pushed her plate away, and when Simon came into the room, went up to him, and asked, "Must we stay here so long?" "Yes--because of the horses," he answered. "We must stop here until four o'clock." "So long!" she sighed. "How many miles are we from Barnow!" "Only three miles.[3] The road is so bad." [Footnote 3: An Austrian mile is equal to 4.714 English miles.] "Only three miles!" she reiterated with dismay. "When shall we arrive at Sadagora?" "The day after to-morrow, at noon." "The day after to-morrow!" she cried. "Then I can not be at home for six days, and the Sabbath as well! Seven days--that is a whole week! Oh my God! my God!" She sat down in her corner again, and pressed her hands to her face. But she could not shut out the pictures that had haunted her on the way. Again it seemed that she heard the feeble cry of "Mother!... Mother!" coming through the walls. The travelers had overheard her conversation with the carrier, and when they saw the woman's despair, asked him what was wrong. Simon raised his hat respectfully to the gentlefolks, and related Miriam's story. When he had finished, the husband and wife looked at one another. "It is dreadful, is it not, Ludmilla?" said the forester. "What a horrible superstition!..." "It is horrible, Karl," answered she. The happy expression left her face, and she looked at Miriam with the deepest compassion. The poor woman still sat motionless with her hands pressed upon her face. She was shaken with physical pain and feverishness; but the storm within her breast was infinitely greater. The forester paid his bill, and his coachman came and announced that the carriage was ready. The travelers put on their overcoats, but they did not seem in a hurry to start. "Karl," said the young wife, undecidedly. "What do you wish, Ludmilla?" "Karl--the poor, poor woman!..." "Yes, Ludmilla, she is very much to be pitied...." They again paused on their way to the door.