He stooped to the little figure, all huddled together on the stones, and tried to raise it in his arms, but with sudden agility the child escaped him. She stopped crying and stood upright against the wall of the passage, facing her tormentor, her eyes and cheeks on flame.
"Go!" she cried, stamping her little foot. "Why do you speak to me? why do you touch me?"
And in spite of his boasted determination the German stood back abashed.
Proceedings were at this stage—the landlord helpless, the German doubtful about the next step that ought to be taken in the task of subduing this child, who partook so early of that proud island-nature which had already called for his reprobation, and Laura looking up at them both with more than a child's determination in her small face—when another actor appeared upon the scene.
Arthur had been sitting during all that afternoon alone in his room, thinking over the occurrences of the past days—now hoping, now despairing, as he reviewed in all its minutest details the interview of that day. He was torturing himself by recalling the eloquent words he had intended to use, but had not—the conclusive reasons he might have brought forward had he only remembered them at the right time—when there came to his ears the sound of a child's cry.
The voice was strangely familiar; at first he could not recall why it was so, for the memory of his humiliating defeat at Moscow had been swamped by the succession of exciting events that had followed it.
Curiosity led him to investigate the matter. He went down stairs, and the first sight of the little flushed face told its tale. This was Margaret's child. The second prize he had been seeking was actually within his grasp, and in his first excitement Arthur felt inclined to seize the child and carry her off whether she would or not. But experience, the two failures that preceded this most unlooked-for meeting, had taught him caution. This time he would not attempt to coerce the strange little being whom Fate had thrown in his way, but it was quite possible that he might win her over to confidence. Acting on this determination, he stood back in the shadow and bided his time.
The German was half ashamed of his irresolution. "Leetle maids must be sensible," Arthur heard him say, and as he spoke he tried once more to raise the child in his arms.
Laura gave a little frightened cry and turned hastily to run up the staircase, but only to find her way blocked by one she looked upon as another enemy. For even by that uncertain light she recognized in Arthur the man who had made an attempt upon her liberty at Moscow. But this time the child was desperate. She stood and faced him like a wild animal at bay.
"Let me pass, let me pass!" she cried.