Without being able to give a satisfactory explanation of my feelings I grew unhappier from day to day, and at times when I was most sad I became conscious of a story in my head, and wrote it down, but tore the paper up again without ever showing it to anybody. My dearest wish was to be sent to Krems, so that I also might join the seminary for school-teachers, and I wondered in my heart of hearts whether Hilda would speak to me then. As a matter of course that secret longing was in vain.

The time when I was to leave school approached at last, and I hailed that event with great delight, for I rejoiced at the thought that in the future I should not be compelled to meet Leopoldine. I had time to spare now, but I did not help my mother with her housework any more than before. I did not like staying at home, and wanted to go away. But whenever I mentioned the subject my mother declared that she could not spare me yet, and that in any case I was too young to face the world alone. I felt exceedingly impatient, grew very discontented, silent towards my mother and my two bigger sisters, and spent, in spite of the noisy company around me, a very lonely life. My poems were the only joy I had; they used to come again and again, but I kept them as secret as before.

During the course of these events I had entered on my fifteenth year, and into my discontent and restlessness there began to twine themselves the thoughts, the dreams, and the wishes of a girl of my age. I knew that all the girls who had left school with me were already associating with young men, and I wondered which of the young men of the village I could love. But I soon discovered that there were none at all who pleased me, because they were all very rude, and constantly alluding to things which made me blush. Contempt and disgust were the only feelings they aroused within me, and it was clear to me that Langenau did not hold the hero of my dreams.

The young men themselves hated me. Whenever they spoke to me I responded shortly and tartly, and if any of them tried to pinch my arm or stroke my cheek, I stepped back and uttered an angry exclamation. After that they used to say that I had better not be so affected, if they were good enough to look at me despite the fact that my people were deeply in debt. I was perfectly used to such words, and knew that those who spoke them were speaking the truth, since the same thing was said at home without anyone contradicting it.

Owing to the fact that my father could afford the fees no longer, my brother had been compelled to leave the High School, and was serving his time in a business.

I suffered under these conditions more than I can ever say. My only wish was to go away from Langenau and to live in some place where nobody knew me and where nobody could reproach me. But my mother would not hear of such a thing. Whenever I spoke about it she comforted me with the idea of getting away later, and I gave in, simply because I could do nothing else.

It was one of my daily occupations to chop up wood in a little shed. The shed was situated at the back of the house, and close to the wine-cellar that belonged to the landlord. Wealthy people from Vienna or the surroundings used to buy wine from our landlord, and not infrequently a gentleman went down into the cellar, and with the landlord sampled the different wines. One afternoon I was chopping wood again—I loved doing it merely because I was all alone in the shed, and my thoughts could come and go undisturbed. I stood with my back against the door, and was both chopping and thinking diligently when a shadow fell suddenly across the wooden sides of the shed; and turning round I saw one of the gentlemen who used to visit the wine-cellar. He smiled at me and started a conversation—whether the rough work pleased me, and so forth. First I felt ashamed of having been observed, but his winning, open manner soon banished my shyness. While he was speaking he smiled and entered the shed. But in spite of his friendliness I felt all at once terribly afraid. I lifted the chopper as if to protect myself, and said: "Will you please go out?" He smiled with even more friendliness, and I saw that his teeth were white and even.

"How shy you are, little one! all I should like to have is a kiss."

I pressed myself hard against the wooden wall, set my lips tightly, and raised the chopper higher still. He must have read in my face something of my determination, because he started to whistle suddenly, and went out of the shed, going backwards as he left. I would have killed him had he dared to touch me.

A young man visited our village sometimes in order to collect sums of money due to a life insurance company. My parents were in no way insured, but every month the people next door received a call from him. One day, instead of the young fellow, a smartly-dressed man appeared who told our neighbours that he was the manager of the company, and that he himself was collecting on this occasion, because frauds had been discovered in connection with the young fellow who had collected previously. After he had left them he knocked at our door, and entered in the politest fashion possible. He looked so very smart that my mother wiped a chair with her apron and invited him to sit down. It was summer, and very hot. The manager seemed to be tired, and asked for a glass of water. After my mother had filled one of her best glasses with clear and cool well-water, he emptied it at one draught, after which he stretched his legs and glanced searchingly through our little room, that looked poor indeed but was kept very clean. My mother, who is but a plain woman, felt much flattered at the sight of his unmistakable comfort, and tried in her humble way to draw him into conversation.

"Dear madam," the manager said at last, "do you by any chance know of a young girl who could help my wife with her housework?"

I sat at the window with a half-knitted stocking in my hands, and slowly let it sink.

"What I need," continued the grand gentleman, "is a nice girl who will mind the children and make herself generally useful."

My mother was just going to say that at present she knew of nobody, but that she could make inquiries if the gentleman wished—or something of that sort—when I got up and, standing before the manager, said: "Perhaps I could be of some use to you?"

Scarcely had I uttered these words when I felt terrified at the courage I had shown, and thought that I must have said something very silly and rude. The manager, however, did not seem to have the same idea, because he smiled and nodded his head.

"That would be excellent," and, after a little pause, addressing himself to my mother, he asked, "When could she come?"

I was quite prepared to hear my mother reply that I could not go at all, or even to see her bursting into tears, and was therefore greatly surprised at what she replied: "If you really care to try her, I could send her next week."

At these words I scarcely managed to suppress a cry of delight. The gentleman then said that he lived at Krems, and that I could come home sometimes. The day of my arrival as well as a few other things having been settled, the manager bowed himself out. As soon as the door had closed behind him I glanced rather shyly at my mother, but she looked into my eyes steadily and said: "As you absolutely will not stay at home, it is best that you should go soon to see for yourself what the world is like." And after a moment she added: "Perhaps you will have good luck."

During the rest of the day I tried to do everything I could to please my mother. I sang the youngest child to sleep, and told the elder ones stories. In the evening when the children had gone to bed, I promised my mother that I would work hard and try to save up a little money. When my father came home and heard of my decision, all he said was that he hoped I could stand the hardship of service.

The week passed rapidly; my mother washed and ironed the few pieces of underclothing I possessed, and I mended them as much as possible. I would have liked very much to buy a little trunk, but my father said that he had not enough money, so I packed my belongings into brown paper, and tied up the small parcel with a thick string.

The manager had arranged to come and fetch me himself. On the appointed day I stood in my Sunday dress and a faded straw hat, which I had decorated with a new bright ribbon, awaiting him in our best room. He arrived very soon; my mother had laid the table, and brought in the steaming hot coffee and some appetizing white bread. After the manager had helped himself to enormous portions, he prepared to depart. I had neither touched the coffee nor the bread, feeling sick at heart, although nothing could have induced me to make such a confession. Several times I ran into the kitchen as if to fetch something, but in reality I wanted to wipe away the tears quickly and secretly. The parting came at last, a scene that could only be a simple one to such a simple woman as my mother, although behind her coloured frock the dear, faithful heart trembled and ached....

"Be good," she called after me, and I nodded back this time with tears in my eyes.