"I was truly sorry for the little weeping woman, though the facts as to her age and former beauty might be somewhat different, and though her statement that he once had loved her might not be strictly true; at any rate, she had loved him as truly as a poor, weak woman's heart can love. For his sake she had loved his child, and without a murmur suffered want and hunger for her sake. And now he repaid her by taking the child away from her. Poor Isabella Pfannenschmidt, you have lived in vain! The flame which burns in your heart shines forth triumphantly over all the theatrical trumpery and baubles clinging to you, poor old Isabella! And yet it would be a pity for this child to have to breathe in that dusty, paint-scented atmosphere any longer. No, Isabella, you must go, though the heart of the once gay actress break over it.
"'Susanna will always be fond of you,' I comforted her, 'and never forget what you have done for her.'
"'Oh, that she will--that she will! She has her father's nature,' sobbed the old woman; 'she will forget me, and, what's more, she will be ashamed of me.'
"'You make a sad exposure of the child's heart, my dear,' said I reprovingly.
"She started up. 'Oh, no, no! she really is good.' she murmured, 'very good. And,' she continued, 'I shall not go very far away either, only to the nearest town. What should I do in Berlin? I should die of longing. I will hire a room in S---- and sew for money; I can embroider well, with colored wool and gold thread. And if the longing becomes too great, I can run up the highway, and if need be up here, to look at the house where she lives.'
"And now she began, amid streaming tears, to pick out one after another of the garments lying around, and to lay them in a white cloth, and in so doing caught up the little shoe on the table, and pressed the narrow sole to her cheek.
"'Don't forget the little jar of paint,' I whispered, in spite of my sympathy.
"She shook her head. 'No, no, I shall pack up everything. I will do it at once, for if she wakes I cannot say good-by. I shall go before daybreak.'
"I held out my hand to her, for I was sorry for her. 'Go away easy; the child is well off here--and may the thought console you, that it is for Susanna's best good.' I went out, and as I turned again, in closing the door, I saw in the dim light the little gypsy-like creature sitting on the floor, amid all her rubbish and trumpery, and weeping, her face buried in her hands."