"It pains me that I tear open a wound which is scarred over, but this scar is a mark of honor for you, and it is not your fault, my child, that you are set in the midst of this life-struggle."
"I?"
"Yes."
"How? Tell me all; what do you know?"
"I mean that it should elevate you to have been obliged to bear humiliation and bitterness in your own person; it gives you a loftier consecration."
"Tell me plainly what you mean."
With an altered tone, like the hiss of a serpent. Manna spoke sharply and angrily; her gentle eyes sparkled restlessly.
"Heaven knows," said the Professorin, "I would not wound you; no, protecting and blessing you, would I lay my hand upon you."
She tried to place her hand on Manna's head, but the girl shrank back and cried:—
"Tell me distinctly, who knows it? What do you know? Pray speak."