Mrs. Tiralla and the schoolmaster exchanged a glance. What impertinence to say, "my little Bohnke!" But he was always so rough and vulgar.

Rosa sat near her father. She did not want anything to eat; she never ate much, and to-day her happiness had quite taken away her appet.i.te.

It had been such a beautiful, beautiful day. Was it because she had prayed so very fervently at the altar that her daddy was now so good?

He didn't swear at all, he didn't even look at Marianna, although her short, white sleeves were fresh from the wash. They reached as far as her bare elbows, and she had a black bodice on and all her coloured beads round her neck. Now her mother would be kinder to her daddy. Oh, if only it could always be like this. How much nicer it was when her mother didn't cry or look angry. To-day was just like Easter, when the grave opened and Christ rose, hallelujah.

[Pg 123]

Her quiet happiness had brought a flush to her pale cheeks. She did not say much; Rosa was only eloquent in her prayers and when she spoke of what transformed her narrow, dark chamber into a Garden of Eden, and of what took place between heaven and earth. But she pressed her father's hand repeatedly, and when her mother happened to touch her in pa.s.sing anything over the table, the child would furtively raise her sleeve to her lips and kiss it.

"Rosa looks better than she did last winter," remarked the schoolmaster, in order to say something. It was really quite immaterial to him if the anaemic child looked paler or not, but his own silence terrified him. Surely the old man must notice something?

"She is certainly much better," answered Mrs. Tiralla hastily. "She only complained of being ill for a short time. Our winters are so raw.

But now she's always well and happy, aren't you, darling? How could she be anything but happy, she, the Holy Virgin's favourite? Tell Mr.

Bohnke what she has revealed to you in your dreams, darling," and she nodded encouragingly to the child.

"I've not dreamt it." Rosa grew almost angry, and she flushed up to her hair-roots. "You're not to say that I dreamt it, mother. It was really true; I was just as wide awake as you are, and father, and Mr. Bohnke.

If you dream you surely don't see the cupboard and the clothes rack and the washstand and the wall, and you don't hear the clock ticking and father snoring downstairs and the wind howling in the pines outside. It was all there as usual, and I was lying in my bed as usual. But the room was full of a bright light. That was because the Holy Virgin was there. She was standing in the middle of the room. She had her crown on her head, and she wore a blue [Pg 124] mantle, which was wide and had lots of folds, oat of which little angels were peeping."

Rosa made a pause, as though she wished to note the effect of this wonderful communication on her hearers.

Mr. Tiralla did not say a word. He was sitting with his head buried in his hands.

"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the schoolmaster, in order to show that he was attending. What on earth was the child talking about? He had not been listening very carefully.

But the woman nodded again to her daughter, who continued with sparkling eyes.

"Rosa,' said the dear Virgin. 'Rosa Tiralla, be not afraid.' 'I'm not afraid,' I said. Then she went on, 'I've chosen you. You are to remain a virgin and to go to the Grey Sisters or to the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, and there you are to pray for the conversion of sinners, for the strengthening of the faith----'" Here Rosa broke off. "I told all this to Father Szypulski to-day, and he explained to me what she really meant by it. I'm to pray for the conversion of the heterodox (those who don't believe the same as we do) and for the strengthening and propagation of our faith, which is the only faith which can save. And I'm to pray for my dear parents, and especially for my dear father, that his soul and his hands may again become clean, so that he can leave Purgatory and go to the dear angels above. Oh, father, dear father," she cried, in a terrified voice, putting her curly head down on his shoulder as he sat next to her, "how awful it would be if you were to be lost for ever!"

"_Psia krew!_" So far Mr. Tiralla had not said a word, but now he started up from his seat and banged the table with his fist. "Stop that twaddle!" He [Pg 125] raised his hand as though he were going to box the child's ears. She shrank back and grew deadly pale.

"But, Mr. Tiralla!" exclaimed the schoolmaster, seizing hold of his arm, "it's wonderful, perfectly wonderful!"

Mrs. Tiralla made the sign of the cross as she cried, "Holy Mother!

What a sin he's committing! May G.o.d not lay it to our charge."

"Hold your tongue," shouted her husband furiously. "You're making the girl quite crazy. And I'll not have her made crazy. Holy Virgin--Grey Sisters--Ladies of the Sacred Heart--all twaddle. She's to sleep when she goes to bed and not invent such nonsense. After to-day her bed is to be brought down into my room. Then I'll see if the Holy Virgin will come to her again. I feel certain she won't."

"That wouldn't be at all suitable," said Mrs. Tiralla in an icy tone.

"Rosa is already a big girl."

"Tut, tut! Whether it's suitable or not, it'll be better for her to see what a man is like than to have her head turned with such unnatural stuff." He cast a suspicious glance at his wife.

Mrs. Tiralla grew frightened. If there were any talk about Rosa she knew that her husband was quite a different man; then he was no longer a fool, or a bear that growled a little and then let her lead him. So she wisely said:

"Very well, as you like. Let Rosa sleep down here with you. But I tell you, you'll not be able to scare away what is coming to her. n.o.body can scare away what is coming," she added impressively, and gazed at him with such a strange look in her black eyes that the superst.i.tious man shuddered.

"Rosa is one of the chosen ones," she continued. "She sees what you'll never see, and hears what you'll [Pg 126] never hear. Very well, let her come down to you. Take firm hold of her hands and of her feet, too, she'll still leave you." The woman grew more and more excited the longer she spoke, and she gazed at her husband with eyes full of rebuke. "It'll be bad for you that you resist in this way. The saints will bear it in mind, and will not forgive you, and when you cry out for them to deliver you from Purgatory, they will not deliver you.

You're a wicked man, a scoffer and a blasphemer! Alas, alas, what will become of you?"

"Do you really think so, really?" Mr. Tiralla felt somewhat disconcerted, her great earnestness bewildered him, and he moved restlessly backwards and forwards on his chair. If she were right? No, it was nothing but romantic nonsense. He was still in possession of his senses, and he would never, no never, allow any one to persuade his little girl, his dear Roschen, who was to bring him so much happiness in this life--healthy grandchildren and all kinds of good things--to go into a convent. Yes, persuade her, that was the word. Sophia had always been too pious, he was sorry to say, and the priest, and the schoolmaster? "To the devil with you all!" he shouted, gaining courage at the sound of his own voice. "May he be struck with lightning who dares contradict me, when I say she's to be married as soon as possible. n.o.body can be too young for that. And I'll procure her a nice husband. Then she'll grow happy and buxom, and when she gets a little boy on her lap--such a wee fellow who kicks about and wants nursing--then she'll not get any more of those stupid fancies. The Holy Virgin, the Holy Virgin! we pray to our Lady. But when Rosa is a mother herself, she'll have other things to think of." He laughed, [Pg 127]

his anger had almost disappeared again at the beautiful prospect which lay before him.

At that moment Mrs. Tiralla gave a shrill scream. "There, you see--there, you see what you've done."

Rosa had given a deep, plaintive sigh, her head had drooped forward like a withered flower, and she would have fallen from her chair if the schoolmaster had not caught her in his arms. She had fainted.

Mr. Tiralla was frightened to death. Alas, alas, what had he done? He would have liked to beat himself, to pull off his head. He struck his forehead with his clenched hand and called himself the most unflattering names he could think of, "fool, blockhead, idiot." He shouted for Marianna, roared for water, ordered Tokay--no, gin--wanted to pour it down the girl's throat, spilt it all over her, then called himself once more all kinds of names and almost wept.

They had pushed him away from his daughter. The schoolmaster still held her in his arms, whilst Marianna rubbed her cold feet and Mrs. Tiralla her temples, and breathed on her with the warm, vivifying breath from her powerful lungs. She did not feel so terrified, she knew what it was. Rosa used to faint very easily, it was on account of her age, the doctor had said, and there was nothing to be anxious about. But she pretended to be alarmed, for he deserved it. What if the child never recovered consciousness, never opened her eyes again? Alas, the Holy Virgin had sent it as a punishment.

The terrified man groaned aloud. Oh, G.o.d, he hadn't wanted to do that, not that! She should continue to sleep upstairs, he wouldn't say a word more about it, he would hide his own wishes deep down in his breast.

Never again would he pollute her ears with such things, although he really couldn't understand [Pg 128] in what way he had wounded her innocence to such a degree that she had fainted. Oh, he was a fool, he didn't understand any more what was going on in his own house. He remained sitting some time in silence, with his head buried in his hands. And then when the child began to stir and he heard her sigh and say in a feeble voice, "Ah, mammie," he got up hastily, took down his hat and coat from the rack and staggered out of the house.

He remained standing for a long time in the middle of the yard with his eyes fixed on the house. Wouldn't Rosa ask for him? Wouldn't she beg him to come to her?

But as n.o.body called him, and the light downstairs began to move about, then disappeared and finally shone in the little room upstairs--they were taking Rosa up to bed--he walked out of his gate with bent head.

"He has really gone out," whispered Mrs. Tiralla, when she came back to the sitting-room. She had sat a long time with Mr. Bohnke at the child's bedside. Rosa had been very excited. When she had recovered from her faint she had wept bitterly and had wanted to see her father.

He had gone out, they told her, his conscience had left him no peace.

After that the child had wept for a long time. Then she had been so worn out that she had dozed a little, but it had been no peaceful slumber, although her mother had held one of her hands and the schoolmaster the other. She had given several loud, terrified shrieks, her brows had contracted with pain. And then she had begun to talk in her sleep, a confused medley of words.

"I suppose she's delirious?" said the schoolmaster. But the woman had whispered to him that Rosa was [Pg 129] having her visions again, and that if he would listen quietly, he would soon make sense out of what she was saying.

Mrs. Tiralla knelt down by the bedside, and resting her head on her hands which she had folded round those of the child, she began to pray in a soft voice.

All the man could see in the twilight had been that bent head, the silky smoothness of which seemed even silkier than usual in the dim light from the shaded lamp. He was seized with a mad desire to press his lips to that bowed neck which was so near him, to thrust both his hands in that beautiful, black hair. He could scarcely bear it any longer, his heart throbbed so tumultuously that he trembled. What did it matter to him that the servant was crouching at the end of the bed with her face buried in her knees? And the delirious child would be no hinderance to him either. Who could prevent him from stretching out his arms and drawing the kneeling woman to his side and closing her mouth with his kisses? Mr. Tiralla was not there; it was as though he would never return. And around them was darkness. And still he dared not do it. This woman--he groaned--ah, this woman could do anything she liked with him.

"Sh!" Mrs. Tiralla raised her head. "Sh! now, now! Do you hear?"

"Oh, my poor father!" sighed Rosa. It sounded as though she were going to cry; there was something unspeakably touching in her plaintive voice. "My poor father, what are they doing to you? You can't escape, alas, alas!"

The child's low voice shook with fear, and she threw herself about on the bed with a convulsive movement.

From what couldn't he escape? The schoolmaster [Pg 130] knitted his brows, her words made a strange impression on him.

But Mrs. Tiralla leant over the bed so that the man could feel her breath on his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "Sh! be quiet!" Now she sees him being tormented in h.e.l.l. She often sees him like that.

"Roschen, my darling," she whispered softly, bending over the child, "leave that wicked man in h.e.l.l, don't be frightened. Don't you see the Holy Virgin this evening, and the dear Child Jesus on her lap? Oh, how sweetly she's smiling. Hark, doesn't she say something? Hail, Mary----"

"Thou Gracious Mother," the child struck in immediately, and her voice had lost its note of fear, "thou pure Mother, thou spotless Mother, thou wonderful Mother. Ah, I see her!" cried Rosa triumphantly, and her pale face flushed a rosy red. "Mother, Marianna, Mr. Bohnke, pray that she may not turn away from us. Come, come!" She stretched out her hands as though she wanted to draw the three people around her bed still nearer. "Kneel down," she called out in a loud voice. "Oh, thou Lamb of G.o.d that takest away the sins of the world, spare us, good Lord----"

"Hear us, good Lord," droned Marianna. She had dragged herself nearer the bed, and now she hit her breast and bowed every time as she repeated, "Spare us, good Lord! Hear us, good Lord! Have pity on us, good Lord!"

Mrs. Tiralla and the schoolmaster exchanged a glance.

"The spirit has come over her," whispered the woman, and made the sign of the cross. "She will soon reveal a great deal to us."