Her guardian, satisfied that she was being well brought up at Halewitz, contented himself with the management of her fortune, and didn't trouble himself about her. Mamma went her own way also, living a solitary life, seeing scarcely anybody but the poor people's children, whom she gathered about her every day. Then there was grandmamma. Dear old granny, she scolded a good bit. She scolded in the morning and scolded in the evening, but her scolding was sheer love, and after all you ended by doing what you liked. And, of course, that was nothing wrong. On the contrary, you had an object in life, for which you planned and worked and fought; which was your last thought at night before going to sleep and seeing dream-pictures; for the sake of which you tumbled half blind out of bed when the morning bell sounded its first hard clanging notes. The dairy, the poultry-yard, and the vegetable garden. These were her little kingdom, over which she had ruled for more than a year now, since grandmamma had abdicated and given over the management of them to her. She hadn't had to beg long, for it seemed only natural that the tired, lax fingers of the old lady should drop the reins and confide them to her strong brown paws. She was passionately devoted to riding, yet the superb Lithuanian mare, which had once belonged to Leo, was now left at peace in the stable. She could drive like a goddess, but for months she had not taken the four-in-hand ribbons between her fingers, for this reason more than anything else--that she had lost her pleasure in it.... Had she not plunged into a world of responsibility and cares? She looked back on her work with genuine pride. Now it was coming to an end, for _he_ had come home. She had laid the foundation of what he to-day would sit in judgment upon. She jumped out of bed and slipped into her petticoats. As she pulled back one of the curtains she saw the garden stretched out before her in the rosy glow of early morning. Night still brooded in the heart of the dark limes, but on the lawn lay the ruddy-gold reflection of early sunlight. She opened a window-lattice softly and breathed in the cool dewy morning air. A little shiver ran down her naked arms. She then placed herself before the looking-glass, which stood between the two windows, and was hung with flowered chintz and ornamented with a gilded pine-cone, and as she combed her long chestnut-brown, rather coarse hair, she subjected herself to a searching examination. Never before had she been so unpleasantly alive to the thinness of her shoulders, and the undeveloped childish curves of her bosom, which were scarcely perceptible above the grey calico corset. Neither was the brown slender throat, on which her small quickly-turning, serpent-like head was posed so firmly and haughtily, at all to her taste to-day. Her arms were plentifully adorned with scars and scratches. They were without roundness, and the keen morning air had given them a goose-skin appearance.