"
The gardener understood what she meant, and her father only half heard
these mysterious words without pondering over their thoroughly
enigmatical meaning.
Thus six weeks passed away and the end of January was approaching when,
one Sunday afternoon, the pastor unexpectedly entered Panna's hut.
Without giving the astonished woman time for a remark, he sat down on
the bench near the stove by her side, and said:
"Do not wonder, my child, that I have come again, after you so deeply
offended and insulted me. I must not bear malice. It is my office to
forgive wrong, and I would fain have you follow my example."
Panna gazed silently into her lap, but the priest continued in a voice
which grew more and more gentle and insinuating.
"You see, you are still indulging your savage, pagan vengeance, and
committing all sorts of follies which will yet ruin you. What is the
use of it? Let the dead rest, and think of the living, of yourself,
your future. What is the meaning of your going to the king and giving
him a crazy petition----"
"What, do you know that, too?" cried Panna turning pale; she felt as if
every drop of blood had gone back to her heart.
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