"And you would be an Ansgarius and introduce Christianity on the skerry?"
"And the salmon! Yes, I will be a demoniac Ansgarius! But will you also let down the salmon trawl and be blessed by the revisors of the Reichstag?"
"Yes, I shall work for these people whom I believe in, I shall devote my feeble powers for the oppressed, and I shall show you that you are a blasé, a roué and a scorner.... No, you are not, but you make yourself out worse than you are for you are a good child anyway, I saw that last Sunday...."
She said a good child, as if with a sure calculation that he would snap at the bait, and place himself under her care as the child, no matter whether a good or bad one. But now he had already formed a fancy for the demon as being superior and more interesting, therefore he held to the more grateful task. Surely he knew from experience that the easiest way to insinuate oneself into a woman's favor was to let her play the mother with all the freedom changed to intimacy, but it was a worn-out play and could so easily lead to an inextirpable hectoring on her part. Better then to give her the more grateful part of a redeemer, where nothing that was absolutely superior entered, only the mother of God's intervening purpose, where she was mediator between two equally strong powers.
But the transition was not easily found, and in a moment of loathing at the whole play, which was still necessary if he would win her, and that he would, he pretended to go down and see if the boat was safely moored, as a breeze was beginning to blow.
Upon reaching the beach he drew a long breath as though he had been exerting himself beyond his strength. He unbuttoned his vest as though he had been wearing a coat of iron, and cooling his head he threw a longing glance out over the free water. Now he would have given much to have been alone, to shake off the chaff which had fallen upon his soul during his contact with a lower spirit. In this moment he hated her, would be free from her, own himself again, but it was too late! Cobwebs had fastened to his face, soft as silk, slimy, invisible and impossible to remove. At the same time—when he turned back and saw her as she sat peeling a chestnut with her long fingers and sharp teeth—he was reminded of a mandrill he had seen in a menagerie, and was seized with an infinite compassion, and a wave of sadness, such as the more fortunate feels when he looks upon the lowly. He immediately thought of her delight at seeing him as a Hottentot, and became vexed again, but calming himself with the self-possession of a man of the world he approached her, and to speak the first cloaked word he reminded her that it was time to go, as the wind had risen. However she had observed the tired and absent-minded look upon his face and with a sharpness, which completely calmed his feeling for an instant, she responded:
"You are tired of my company! Let us go."
When he did not answer with a courtesy, she resumed with feeling, which it was difficult to judge whether real or pretended.
"Excuse me, I am naughty! I have grown so, and I am ungrateful! Never mind it!"
She wiped her eyes and began with a house-wife's trained care to put the dishes together.