Mr. Sandor, the owner of the registry-office in Buda-Pesth, had told me in his last letter that he was going to meet me at the station, and asked me to carry a handkerchief in my hand. I had passed a perfectly sleepless night, and when we arrived in Buda-Pesth in the morning I felt quite stiff, and got out from the compartment rather clumsily, with my brown canvas trunk in one hand, and a handkerchief in the other. I looked up and down the platform, and soon observed an elderly gentleman who hurried up to me.

"Have you come from Langenau?"

"Yes," I said, and would have given a world to know what he thought of me.

"Do you want a taxi?" he asked, throwing a quick glance at my trunk.

All the money I possessed did not amount to more than sixpence, and I shook my head violently at his question.

"No, no; I would rather walk."

"Just as you like."

A few minutes later he asked me whether he might be permitted to carry my trunk, but again I shook my head. After rather a long way he stopped at one of the tall, beautiful houses, and I thought it was the house of the family who had engaged me.

"Are we there?" I asked, with my heart beating to my very throat.

"No," he answered smilingly; "here is my own lodging. I have taken you here first so that you can make yourself a little more tidy before you are presented to your new mistress. My wife will certainly be pleased to help you."

He had opened a door and we entered a pretty-looking room. A lady came in. She nodded at me very pleasantly, and Mr. Sandor said something to her in the Hungarian language, which of course I did not understand. After that he turned again to me: "I leave you with my wife now; as soon as you are ready I shall be ready too."

Not until the door had closed behind him, did I understand the ridiculous position I was in. He expected me to change my clothes, never suspecting that they were my best.

"Don't be shy," the lady said; "do just as if you were at home."

But even if I had been really at home, I could not have done much more. I stammered that I did not want to change my dress, but should like to have a clothes-brush, if there was one handy.

"Of course," Mrs. Sandor replied, "here is one;" and with a smile she handed to me the desired brush. I used it with clumsy haste and gave it back.

"Is that really everything?" she asked me in the same pleasant way as before.

"Yes, everything."

After that she called her husband in.

"Ready then?"

"Quite," I replied, and stooping down to lift up my trunk, I said "Good-day" to Mrs. Sandor, and followed her husband out into the street.

We did not go far on this occasion. He stopped at the corner of the road and told me to follow him into the tram-car, a command which I found great difficulty in obeying. However, I got in at last, and Mr. Sandor sat down beside me.

"I dare say," he commenced after a little while, "my letters were quite clear to you, and that you are in no doubt as to your future duties. With regard to your mistress, I do not think that there can be found a more kind and gentle creature, and I am sure that you will feel very comfortable in her house. As far as the three boys are concerned, you will have to find out for yourself the best way to get on with them, and I hope that you will remain there for a long time."

He kept on talking in this strain, and in my heart of hearts I wondered whether I really looked so silly and common a girl as my brother had thought me. The house to which Mr. Sandor took me was a very fine-looking building. There was a broad marble staircase, covered with a costly carpet, which was kept in its place by rods of shining brass. A smart-looking parlour-maid led the way into a roomy hall, bidding us to wait. I put my trunk on the floor, and with my heart beating fast sat down on the edge of a chair. Mr. Sandor seated himself too, but his heart did not seem to beat any faster. We had to wait for rather a long time, and I was almost wishing that we might be left there to wait for ever. But in the very midst of that thought fell the mellowed sound of footsteps, and a lady entered. I felt so embarrassed that I could not speak, and stood up terribly ashamed. But she never looked at me. She spoke to Mr. Sandor in Hungarian, and I grew doubtful whether she knew that there was anyone else in the room. All at once she turned her head and looked at me with searching eyes.

"Are you quite sure that you will like to stay in Buda-Pesth?" she asked me. I did not quite know what she meant and only bowed my head in silence. "I am afraid that you might grow home-sick, and I should so hate to change again."

"No," I said; "I am sure I shall like it very much."

Mr. Sandor then said "Good-morning" to the lady, and as he shook hands with me he begged me not to forget what he had told me. After he had gone, the lady bade me follow her and led the way into a room that was furnished completely in white. A table stood in the centre and around it three boys, whom I guessed to be my charges, were sitting. They got up as we entered and looked rather shyly at me.

"Your new governess," the lady said to the children. "Won't you say 'Good-morning' to her?"

Once alone with the children, my shyness left me. I shook hands with them and asked a few simple questions which they answered in broken German. After I had taken off my things, I busied myself at once in amusing the children, tired though I was. I built houses of paper on the table, and did various little things to help me to gain some courage.

After a few days I grew more reassured, and dropped my shyness even towards the mistress. I could see that she was satisfied with me, and since the children also were very fond of me, I no longer felt afraid of being sent away.

I had plenty to do. To take the children to school and to fetch them back again. Also to take them for walks when the weather was fine enough. The darning and sewing I did when they lay asleep.

Apart from a burning home-sickness that had taken hold of me and tortured me especially in the evenings I felt quite happy there, and no doubt believed that I had found at last what I had been longing for all my life. There was one thing, however, that darkened the clear horizon of my days: I had not a single decent dress to wear. It would hardly have troubled me, but I knew that my mistress wanted me to be dressed smartly. She had made little remarks sometimes, which, although never addressed directly to me, gave me to understand that she was ashamed for her friends—whose governesses looked so smart that I had mistaken them for mistresses at the beginning—to see me.

One day my mistress came into the nursery, and, looking around somewhat discontentedly, said:

"The children have been invited to tea, but who shall accompany them?"

I looked at her in surprise.

"Why, I, of course."

"Impossible; you can't go there in that blue dress of yours."

I remembered my brother and what he had told me, and started to fret again about being sent away. I had not been there for a whole month, and had not yet received my wages. But my mind was made up that I would buy a dress as soon as I had my money, and I had already looked in all the shop-windows in order to choose one. There were several dresses that I should have liked to buy, but on looking at the price I was so horrified that I avoided the shop-windows for days afterwards.

My shoes were wearing out too, and when the thirty-five shillings at last fell due, there were so many great and little things needed that the wonderful thirty-five shillings melted down to a few small coppers before I had been able to think of buying a new dress.

One evening, when I was busily putting the children to bed, the master came into the nursery and, after having exchanged a few words with each of the boys, stepped over to where I was standing and touching my blouse he said:

"Don't you feel cold in it?"

It was a very simple remark, and quite justified too, because it was cold and the blouse was thin, but the look that he threw at me reminded me of coarse and ugly words I had often heard before.

I said that I did not feel cold, and when he reached out his hand again I stepped back quickly.

He came in earlier from that day onwards, and spent much time in the nursery. He talked chiefly with the children, but all the while his eyes wandered over me, and I felt that each look he gave me was like a new offense. One afternoon when my mistress was out, the children at school, and I was sitting in the nursery busy over some mending, the door opened and the master came in. It was not his wont to leave his office during the daytime, and bowing my head a little I looked at him with some surprise. He closed the door very carefully and leaned against the table. I had taken up my work again, but my fingers trembled. He did not speak, and the silence became unbearable to me.

"Why," he said at last, "why don't you look at me?"

"Because the children need the things," I replied, bending my face still closer over my darning.

"Quite so; but if I want to speak to you, you ought to have a little time."

I thought that I had been rude, perhaps, since after all he was the master, so I got up from the chair and looked at him submissively.

"You know," he said very slowly and with a peculiar inflection in his voice—"you know that I mean to be kind to you, that your welfare interests me, and that I would not mind a little sacrifice on my part if you would only appreciate it."

I opened my mouth to make some clumsy reply, but with his hand he waved to me to be silent, and continued:

"You must know yourself that you are in somewhat pressed circumstances, and I am quite willing to give you a large advance. There is, of course, no need that you should mention that to my wife...." And while he finished the last sentence he produced a small bundle of bank-notes and put it on the table.

At that I lost my head and flew into a terrible rage.

"Take that money away," I shouted, "or I will tear it up!" and because he did not take it away at once, I flung it at his feet. He stooped to pick it up, but his eyes as he turned them to me were shining with anger.

"I am going to tell my wife at once," he said, "to get a lady and no servant-girl for my children."

After that he went.

I was determined to leave the house immediately, and could scarcely wait for the evening when the mistress would come in. But before she came in I received a letter from home that contained most pitiable news about the financial side of their circumstances. "Could not I send a little money, just to keep the little ones from starving?" was their humble yet urgent request. I had received my salary a few days ago and not spent it yet. I took every penny of it and hurried to a post-office. After the receipt was handed to me I felt somewhat relieved, and having hidden it in my pocket very carefully I hastened home.

It was getting late and I started to put the children to bed, inwardly troubled and disturbed because it had occurred to me that I had no money and could not very well leave my place before another month. I would not think of looking out for another situation in Buda-Pesth itself. I had suffered so much from humiliations and home-sickness that I hated the very sight of the houses and streets. I remembered the threat of my master, but it left me cold. If they were really going to send me away it was quite a different thing from casting away the shelter above my head.

My mistress returned with her husband at about eight in the evening. She came into the nursery with her hat and veil on and asked whether the boys had been good. I answered in the affirmative, whereupon she left again. I used to take my supper in the nursery. The dining-room was not far away, and I could hear the clicking of the forks and knives quite plainly. That evening I listened to every sound, anxious to know whether they spoke about me. But they never mentioned my name. My mistress laughed several times, and told her husband about something in her highly-pitched voice. She always talked loudly, and I was constantly afraid that she might wake the children when they lay asleep.

The next morning my mistress treated me quite in the usual manner, and I felt certain that her husband had said nothing against me. After I had taken the children to school I tidied the nursery. When I was about to do the little beds the door opened and the cook came in with a pair of boots in her hands. I had picked up a little Hungarian by now, and could make myself understood quite well. The boots were a pair of mine which I had taken to be repaired a few days before. She told me that the shoemaker was waiting in the kitchen, and named the price that was owing for the mending. With a sudden terror I remembered that I had sent away all my money, and had not a penny left to pay for the shoes. After thinking for a few moments I told her to give him back the shoes.

"But," she insisted, looking down at my feet which were in shoes that certainly were not new, "don't you want them?"

"Oh yes; but what am I to do? If the lady were in I could ask her to advance me a little money."

"What nonsense!" she replied. "It is such a trifle I will let you have the money with pleasure."

I wanted the shoes badly, and felt sincerely grateful for her offer.

"Thank you so much," I said. "You shall have the money back by to-night."

"That is not at all necessary. She does not like to advance us money. I can wait until you get your wages."

When the lady had returned I did not ask her for money as I had intended to do. In addition to the remark that the cook had made about it, I had another reason. I was ashamed to confess that I had sent my last wages home.

During the next few weeks I did something that I have never ceased to regret, and probably never shall. I borrowed more money from the cook. I certainly never asked her for a large sum, but whenever I told her that I was in need of twopence, she insisted on giving me ten shillings, and I spent them as quickly as I received them. In that way I owed her twenty-five shillings before half of the month was over. It did not, however, really trouble me. Twenty-five shillings, I reckoned, still left ten shillings to go home with. However, something happened which altered my position completely.

The lady was going to give an evening entertainment, and had invited about forty people. All sorts of preparations went on all day long, and the evening promised to be a success. As a matter of course, I was excluded from the proud assembly in the drawing-room, and stayed in the nursery as usual. I was sitting on a low chair reading a book, when I suddenly heard very soft footsteps, and looking up I saw the master. Without saying a single word he bent over my chair and, taking my head tightly into both of his hands, he kissed me. After that he released me, and went out as softly and hurriedly as he had come in. My book dropped, giving a low, dull sound as it fell on the carpet, and I sat motionless for a while. Trembling in every limb, I got up at last, and stepping to my little washstand took a brush, and scrubbed my face until the skin was rubbed through and the blood showed. Having done that, I threw myself dressed as I was on my bed, and remained there till long after midnight. What I had felt during those hours was no hatred, no anger, but a great inexpressible grief. I awoke in the morning like one stunned, and did my work mechanically. When I took the children to school I paid little heed to their talk, but tormented my brain to find out how to leave that house at once. I remembered the twenty-five shillings which I owed the cook, and the horrible fact that my wages were not due for a fortnight. If I was going to leave right away the money due to me would not even have covered my debt. Where was I to get the money from that I needed to travel home with? When I thought of my return to my parents a hot wave of shame swept over me. I had dreamed of it often and often—how I would come home some day with many beautiful dresses and costly finery; but as things had now turned out I was no better off than I was when I had left home. After a few minutes' thought, however, I felt less concerned about that, and finally grew utterly indifferent as to my appearance. All I desired was to have enough money to enable me to pay the cook and to travel to Vienna. Once there, perhaps my brother might help me to go home. Yet, much as I reckoned and much as I thought, there was left no other way out except to earn the money wanted—that is to say, to stay for another fortnight at that hated place.

Sick at heart, but calm and composed, I said "Good-morning" to my mistress an hour later. She yawned as she returned my salute, and told me how much she had enjoyed the evening, but that she was feeling tired to-day.

Once during the morning I went into the kitchen to fill a jug with water. The cook and the parlourmaid stood together and whispered to each other. When they saw me they stopped abruptly, and gave me a disdainful look. They had never looked at me like that, and I grew uneasy. After I had filled the jug I went back into my nursery, but the uncomfortable feeling that was roused within me would not be quelled.

When I returned with the children from school that day, the cook informed me that her ladyship wished to see me at once. I wanted to take off the children's coats first, but while I was wrestling with the arm of the youngest she told me to go at once.

With mingled feelings of surprise and anger I obeyed. The door leading to my mistress's room was ajar, and I entered without knocking. As if she had been waiting for me, my mistress stood in the centre of the room, fully erect, her dark eyes flashing at me angrily.

"Must I be told by the servants," she shouted, without returning my salute, "what a miserable creature I have taken into my house?" And getting into a terrible rage, she yelled: "Out of my sight, and do not poison the air here more than you have done already. I give you ten minutes, after that I will throw you down the stairs if you have not disappeared."

I said nothing and asked nothing. I went back into the nursery and packed up the few things that belonged to me. The children were puzzled and picked up what had dropped from my trembling hands. When I had almost finished I stopped and listened. Someone had set up a terrible noise of crying and lamenting in the kitchen, and a few seconds later the cook rushed in.

"My money!" she screamed; "how am I to get my money now?"

"I am sure I don't know," I replied; whereupon she began to howl like a hungry beast, and to run like a madwoman up and down the room. But all at once she grew as quiet as a mouse, and looking up from my trunk I saw my mistress in the room.

"What is the matter?" she asked, without giving me a single look.

The cook explained, and began to howl anew. When she had finished, the lady turned towards me.

"You wretch!" she said; "you miserable wretch! And I have suffered you to sit at my table and breathe the same air with my children for nine months, you dirty, dirty thing! You——"; and then she said something which I do not care to repeat.

I could feel the blood leave my cheeks when I heard the last words, but I set my teeth and did not speak. Without paying any further attention to either the lady or the cook I continued to pack my trunk, and when I had finished I went towards the door. But the lady stopped me.

"The trunk you leave here," she thundered, "and it is to remain until you have paid the cook."

"I have a claim on a fortnight's money," I said; "that she may have, and I will send her the rest as soon as I get a situation."

They began to consider the matter, and I heard the lady say that she would much rather give me the money, in order to enable me to travel home, since she hated to know that I was in Buda-Pesth. The only thing to do was to keep my trunk back. After that talk she turned to me, and threw seventeen shillings on the table.

"There," she said, in a terrible voice, "out with you, but the trunk is to remain here."

I took the money and looked round for the children, but they had left the room. In the kitchen I met the parlourmaid, who had listened the whole time. She opened the front door for me, and mockingly bowed me out. When I had reached the street I ran as fast as I could to the station, inquired for the next train to Vienna, and, two hours later, sat in one of its compartments. Pressing myself hard into a corner, I looked round now and again very shyly and very carefully, because I thought that I had heard someone call: "You wretch! you miserable wretch! You dirty, dirty thing! You——."

I trembled all over with excitement, and closed my eyes; but although utterly sad at heart, I shed no tears that night. We reached Vienna the next morning, and for a few moments I thought of calling upon my brother. But I gave up the idea. Would he not only scorn and despise me? So I travelled on to Langenau. It was dark when the train steamed into the well-known little station, and I hastened home. The children were all fast asleep, but my parents were still up. Both of them were startled to see me, and besieged me with anxious questions. I said that the whole family with whom I had been had died. Later on my father also went to bed, and I was alone with my mother.

"Where is your trunk?" she asked me.

I replied that it was going to be sent on to me.

There was a lengthy pause, during which my mother stared at me thoughtfully.

"I believe you have got no luck," she said at last.

"I am sure I haven't," I said, watching a great black spider that crept slowly along the wooden floor.

I stayed at home now, and as I did not care to meet any of my old acquaintances I never left the house. There was hardly anybody who knew that I had come back. It is true that I longed to see Miss Risa de Vall, but since I had no decent clothes in which to visit her I would not write to her. My mother kept on asking when my trunk would come, and I answered always, "I expect to-morrow."

To my great surprise the trunk really arrived about three weeks after. As a matter of course I was very pleased to have my things back, but to what kind circumstances I owed it I never knew. The very first thing I wanted to do now was to obtain a situation. The circumstances of my parents were no better than their letters had led me to expect. The rent especially proved to be a burning and everlasting question. But where was I to take a situation again? At Langenau?—I would not hear of it. At Krems?—that did not suit me either. I decided to write to my brother, and to ask him to find something suitable for me. The letter, however, was never answered, and things grew no better. I earned nothing, and consequently could buy nothing. A new pair of boots was once more a tempting suggestion. Not wishing to lose more time, I had decided to look out for a situation at Krems after all, when the postman called one day and delivered a letter for me. I recognized at once the Hungarian stamp, showing the sloping cross and above it the flying eagle.

But the handwriting did not seem familiar to me, and fearing that I was going to be reminded of my debt to the cook, I opened the letter with some alarm. After I had read it I did not quite know what to think of it. It was written by Mr. Sandor; mentioning nothing about my last place he told me of a situation which he had vacant, and which he thought would suit me excellently. There were only two children—a boy and a girl, aged between three and five years. The wages were the same. My parents tried hard to persuade me to accept the offer at once, but I had my own thoughts about it and could not make up my mind. Another letter, coming from the same place, was handed to me the next day. Mr. Sandor wrote that as the matter was very urgent, would I be good enough to let him know my decision by return of post.

I put all my things together now, and examined them thoroughly. If that blouse, I thought, received a new pair of sleeves it might do quite well at home; and if I sewed a new belt on that skirt, it would not look so bad. I put aside piece after piece, and decided to start with the mending at once; but before I sat down to take up the needle, I wrote to Mr. Sandor that I should certainly feel very pleased to obtain the situation in question.

On the day before my departure I could not stay indoors, but went out. It was evening, and under cover of the growing darkness I visited all the places that I knew so well and loved so dearly. I passed the house which we had inhabited after our very first removal, and looked in at the open gate. The brooklet there flowed through the yard as it had done at the time when I was a little child; but in the corner, where my flowers had closed and opened themselves so generously for me, there stood a kennel, and a large bushy dog darted at me distrustfully. Very sadly I moved on. The church square had not altered. The church stood in its centre, dark and quiet as of old, and opposite to it there loomed up the house of my former friend Leopoldine. All the windows were illuminated, and the whole building suggested comfort and ease. I walked on again down to the very end of the street, leaving behind me all the well-known cottages, together with the dyer's house, until I reached the graveyard. I used to be afraid of that place when I was a child, and always avoided it as much as I could, but to-day my heart was filled with such sadness that all other feelings were overcome by it.

Leaning myself against the low grey wall, my thoughts went on freely. What had life been to me so far? Scorned and avoided ever since I was a child, with nothing for my own but the quiet thoughts and the secret dreams. How different this might have been if "he" had come, my prince out of the fairyland! But he had failed me too.

And as I stood there staring into the darkness above and beyond the graves, I saw a vision—a circle of flames, growing into enormous size, embracing all the world except myself, leaving me outside and alone.

My parents went to see me off again the next day. On this occasion, however, I did not speak, and walked to the station almost reluctantly. When I was seated in the train I neither smiled nor cried, being utterly indifferent. I did not know that fate was ready for me.