“But you must not sleep all the time,” Mrs. Becker protested. “You must get up after you have taken the soup. Rudolph wants to talk to you.” Gretel lifted her head with more animation than she had shown in days. “Is he going to let me go home?” she demanded eagerly. Mrs. Becker shook her head. “You know he cannot do that,” she said, crossly. “Your friends would ask questions, and you would tell them things that must not be told. It is very hard for Rudolph; he had no wish to keep you here. You should have obeyed him and he would have let you go at once. Rudolph is not a wicked man. He is so worried that he cannot sleep at night. You have brought awful trouble upon us.” “It wasn’t my fault,” said Gretel, wearily, pressing her hot hand to her aching forehead. “I couldn’t swear not to tell. It would have been disloyal to my country. I am an American.” “You are a fool, that is what you are!” burst out Mrs. Becker angrily. “We are all in terrible trouble. If you are found here what will be done to us? And yet how can we let you go? You are to blame for everything, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Gretel said nothing. There did not seem to be any use in talking, and she felt so very tired and confused. She only wanted to be left alone. But Mrs. Becker’s next words aroused her completely. “Besides, what good have you done by being so obstinate? You might as well have obeyed Rudolph, since your friends think you have run away on purpose.” “My friends think I have run away on purpose?” repeated Gretel, incredulously. “But they don’t; they couldn’t think such a thing.” “Very well, come and look at the paper Rudolph has to show you. But first you must drink this good soup. I have taken great trouble in making it for you.” Gretel took the cup and hastily swallowed a portion of the contents. She was trembling with weakness and excitement, but she suddenly felt wide awake. “I can’t swallow any more,” she said, setting the half-emptied cup on the floor. “May I go to your husband now?” “Yes, he is waiting for you in the sitting-room.” Gretel rose feebly. She was so weak that she almost fell against the wall, and was forced to clutch Mrs. Becker’s arm for support. The woman looked a little frightened. “That comes because you will not eat,” she said, reproachfully. “I have told you that it is necessary to eat.” But she put her arm round the trembling girl not unkindly and led her along the narrow hall to the room where she had taken coffee with the Beckers on that afternoon, which seemed such ages ago. It was the first time that Gretel had been allowed to leave her prison, and the sudden change from the dark little trunk-room to the sunlit parlor made her so giddy that she instinctively closed her eyes and leaned more heavily on Mrs. Becker’s arm.