Peter had given it to her as a wedding present, and she had worn it to the altar; but the little diamond cross suspended from the middle she had never seen.

The gold buckle at Eva's belt had belonged to her since her last birthday--it was very badly bent, and the dull points would scarcely pierce the thick ribbon.
"She had everything when it was new," she said to herself.

"Jewels?
What do I care for them! But the heart, the heart--how much love has she left in Peter's heart ?" She did not wish to do so, but constantly heard these words ringing in her ears, and was obliged to summon up all her self-control, to save herself from weeping.
"If he would only come, if he would only come!" cried a voice in her tortured soul.
The door opened, but she did not notice it.
Barbara crossed the threshold, and called her by her name in a tone of kindly reproach.
Maria started and blushing deeply, said, "Please give me your hand; I should like to get down.

I have finished.
The dust was a disgrace." When she again stood on the floor, the widow said, "What red cheeks you have! Listen, my dear sister-in-law, listen to me, child--!" Barbara was interrupted in the midst of her admonition, for the knocker fell heavily on the door, and Maria hurried to the window.
The widow followed, and after a hasty glance into the street, exclaimed: "That's Wilhelm Cornieliussohn, the musician.

He has been to Delft.