CORNELLI
had the most refined and charming manners, and was well educated, and at the same time so simple and childishly devoted to old, plain Martha. She had never read letters like the mother’s letter to her son, so beautiful, affectionate and elevating. He had always read them to her, and she had had to cry every time from sheer emotion. She had never before seen as beautiful linen as the boy had worn, and it had all been his two sisters’ work.
“Martha,” the Director finally interrupted her, “according to your account, it would be a great blessing for my daughter to spend even a day in such a family.”
“If you would really take her there, Director, I certainly would be happy—ah! I would not know a greater happiness.”
Martha had to wipe her eyes, she was so stirred.
“You shall know it, Martha. We’ll go to-morrow, and on the same evening you shall hear an account of all that happened.” With these words the Director seized her hand, and after shaking it heartily, departed.
“Get everything ready, Cornelli! We are
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