"Oh, I am better now," he muttered, in the same ungracious way. "You had best leave me alone. I am not a suitable gallant for a pretty wench like you."
But already the girl had tripped away with the jug, and returned two minutes later to find that the curious creature had already started on his way and was fifty yards and more farther up the street by now. She shrugged her shoulders, feeling mortified at his ingratitude, and not a little ashamed that she had forced her compassion where it was so obviously unwelcome.
CHAPTER IV
ONE DRAM OF JOY MUST HAVE A POUND OF CARE
§1
She stood for a moment, gazing mechanically on the retreating figure of the asthmatic giant. The next moment she heard her name spoken, and turned quickly with a little cry of joy.
"Régine!"
A young man was hurrying towards her, was soon by her side and took her hand.
"I have been waiting," he said reproachfully, "for more than an hour."
In the twilight his face appeared pinched and pale, with dark, deep-sunken eyes that told of a troubled soul and a consuming, inward fire. He wore cloth clothes that were very much the worse for wear, and boots that were down at heel. A battered tricorne hat was pushed back from his high forehead, exposing the veined temples with the line of brown hair, and the arched, intellectual brows that proclaimed the enthusiast rather than the man of action.