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When Berbel had hidden the precious letter among her possessions, she had firmly intended to keep it for some time, before giving it to its owner, but she had not excluded from her calculations the possibility of consulting Hilda upon the matter.
'You see, the truth is best for people who have anything to lose. 'Fie, Wastei! exclaimed Berbel, half inclined to smile at his odd philosophy, but unwilling to let him see that she could appreciate a jest upon so moral a subject. 'It is true, Frau Berbel.
'They are good fish, she said, looking them over once more. Wastei drew a bright red handkerchief from his pocket, and carefully wiped his sinewy brown hands. Then without further ceremony he sat down upon the stone curb at the corner of the steps, as though he had done his business and meant to rest himself without paying any more attention to Berbel.
Then Berbel refused to go away, once and for ever, and the officer's widow accepted the lifelong devotion offered her, and the three cast in their lot together, to keep themselves alive as best they could beneath the only roof that was left to them.
Mamma is coming with Herr Greif! she cried, before she was really within hearing of the room where Berbel was at work. Her clear voice rang through the stone passages before her as she ran on, repeating the news until Berbel answered her at last. 'Is there anything for dinner? asked Hilda breathlessly, as she stood in the doorway.
In spite of his pretended ignorance he could read well enough to make out the address, and he had come to the conclusion that Berbel was the person to be trusted. He would not for the world have destroyed the precious missive, but he was equally determined neither to keep it himself nor to mar the joy of the Sigmundskrons' festivities by putting it into Greif's own hands.
'Yes, far better, echoed Berbel, whose simple calculations had been upset by the news, and who began to wish that the coat had fallen into other hands. Hilda sat quite still, thinking what she should do. The situation was painful from its very simplicity, for it was assuredly her duty to go to her husband and give him the letter, telling him the whole truth at once.
'It is not fair that he should lose his money. She could not help speaking a good word for her old friend. 'Give him forty to buy a new one. He has been honest, very honest. Hilda sighed, thinking, perhaps, of all the pain that might have been spared, if Wastei had put the letter into the fire, instead of giving it to Berbel.
'Not much, as you say, assented Berbel, keeping her eye upon him. 'Or an old letter, either, said Wastei with perfect indifference. 'That depends on the person to whom it is addressed. 'A live son is better than a dead father. A message from the dead wolf would not make the christening of his grandson any merrier, would it, Frau Berbel?
'Better burn it, suggested Wastei, pulling out a match-box, and fumbling in his unfamiliar pockets for the letter. 'I am not sure of that, said Berbel, who knew that if she insisted, he would destroy it in spite of her. 'After all, Wastei, it is neither yours nor mine. 'I bought it with the coat.
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