Instead of answering her, the first thing that Crappy Zachy did was to go up to a group of people and tell them what a stupid speech the child had made; and from among the graves there arose a loud laugh over her foolishness.  Only Farmer Rodel’s wife said:  “I don’t see anything foolish in that.  Although it is a mark of honor that Severin has, it is after all a strange thing for him to go about in the churchyard with such a decoration on—­in the place where we see what we are all coming to, whether in our lifetime we have worn clothes of silk or of homespun.  It annoyed me to see him wear it in the church—­a thing of that kind ought to be taken off when one goes to church, and more especially in the churchyard!”

The rumor of little Amrei’s question must have penetrated to Severin himself, for he was seen to button his overcoat hastily, and as he did so he nodded at the child.  Now he was heard to ask who she was, and as soon as he found out, he came hurrying across to the children beside the fresh graves, and said to Amrei: 

“Come here, my child.  Open your hand.  Here is a ducat for you—­buy what you want with it.”

The child stared at him and did not answer.  But scarcely had Severin turned his back when she called out to him, half-aloud: 

“I won’t take any presents!”—­and she flung the ducat after him.

Several people who had seen this came up to Amrei and scolded her; and just as they were about to illuse her, she was again saved from their rough hands by Farmer Rodel’s wife, who once before had protected her with words.  But even she requested Amrei to go after Severin and at least thank him.  But Amrei made no answer whatsoever; she remained obstinate, so that her protectress also left her.  Only with considerable difficulty was the ducat found again, and a member of the Village Council, who was present, took charge of it in order to deliver it over to the child’s guardian.

This incident gave Amrei a strange reputation in the village.  People said she had lived only a few days with Black Marianne, and yet had already acquired that woman’s manners.  It was declared to be an unheard of thing that a child so sunk in poverty could be so proud, and she was scolded up hill and down dale for this pride, so that she became thoroughly aware of it, and in her young, childish heart there arose an attitude of defiance, a resolve to evince it all the more.  Black Marianne, moreover, did her part to strengthen this state of mind, for she said:  “Nothing more lucky can happen to a poor person than to be considered proud, for by that means he or she is saved from being trampled upon by everybody, and from being expected to offer thanks for such usage afterward.”