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“Behave yourself like a Countess Dohna, or I
must beg my mother to chastise you as a child.”
“Do with me what you will.”
Then the Count pronounced sentence:
“As my mother has prayed for you, you may re-
main in my house, but in the future she commands,
and you obey.”
See the path of the penitent! The young Countess
has become one of the servants. How long,
oh, how long?
How long will a proud heart be subdued? How
long will impatient lips be silent and a hasty hand
held back? The misery of abasement is sweet. While
the back aches with the heavy work, the heart is
quiet. To those who sleep a few short hours on a
hard bed of straw sleep comes unbidden.
The older woman might be changed into an evil
spirit to torture the younger one sufficiently. She
thanks her; the evil is not yet dead within her.
Hunt the sleepy head up every morning at four
o’clock. Give the inexperienced worker an endless
day’s work at the heavy looms. It is right;
the penitent might not have strength to swing the scourge
with sufficient force.
When the great spring wash was at hand, Countess
Märta made the young Countess stand at the
tubs in the wash-house. She went herself to inspect
her work. “The water is too cold in your tub,” she
said, and took boiling water out of the cauldron
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