The woman answered nothing. Not a sound was heard in the darkening room during the next few minutes. She sat blinking at the man with her burning eyes. What did he think of her? Did he perhaps believe that she had persuaded the girl to become a nun? Oh, no; he must not believe that. She felt called upon to convince him that she had had nothing whatever to do with Rosa's decision. Had she ever persuaded the child to go into a convent? No, she could not remember having done so--no, certainly not, she had never done such a thing. She was quite innocent of it. But at the same moment her blood rose. Why did the young fellow trouble himself so much about Rosa? Why did he take such an interest in her? She was about to fire up--ah, now he was even reproaching her for it in words.
"Others who are older should be wiser," said Becker.
But she controlled herself; she must not be angry, it was better to win him with kindness. So she said in a low, dreamy whisper, as though she were speaking to herself:
"I was still a child when I wanted to go into a convent. I was forced to marry Mr. Tiralla. Oh!" She raised her hands with a deep sigh, and clasped them together and pressed them to her pale cheek as though in pain. "I've been married almost sixteen years, sixteen long years, and I still long for the convent. If I might be within those sacred walls, I should be hidden and happy. How can I oppose my daughter if she doesn't wish to become as unhappy as her mother? I can't help it, it's not my fault. You must blame Mr. Tiralla; my child has seen too much." She wiped a few tears away and then held her hand before her eyes, but she was watching the young man through her fingers. Would her fate excite his pity? It made her weep herself when she described it. She longed for his sympathy; she did not know why she especially wanted his sympathy, she merely felt in a dull kind of way that this man must take a much, much greater interest in her than in Rosa.
But Martin Becker answered calmly, "If the Pani has not been happy in her marriage that is no reason why her daughter should not be. She has a gentle disposition, she seems to be very pliable. My father--God give him everlasting peace--always used to say to me, 'Take a gentle wife.' My opinion is that a gentle wife will always have a good husband, because----"
He stopped. Mrs. Tiralla had suddenly jumped up; what a namby-pamby the fellow was, to be sure, in spite of his eyes that were shining with mirth and his fresh lips under his small black moustache, and his four-and-twenty years. His way of speaking angered her. He spoke like an old man with the mouth of a youth. Her fingers twitched, she felt so irritated she would have liked to have given him a blow on those fresh lips. What did he know of marriage, or what it was like to have a coarse, hateful, rough, vulgar, ugly old drunkard as your husband? She was raging. She felt she must convince this man, just this man, that it was terrible, and then----
She closed her eyes for a moment as though she felt dizzy.
An intense joy took possession of her. She was still "the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla." Whatever he might think at the present moment, he would learn to think differently. Her irritation disappeared, and she begged him in a voice that was almost humble not to be surprised that she had poured her heart out to him. She was surprised at it herself, but it must have been because she had lived such an isolated life for so long, and had had to be silent for so many, many years.
Then he grew milder too; he was never angry long. The woman certainly had a very touching voice. He also felt flattered that she had shown him such confidence. But he was not able to tell her so, as his former shyness had returned as soon as his anger disappeared. He let her carry on the conversation, whilst he sat silent in the dark room, and as he listened to her he thought how sweetly she was speaking.
They were still sitting thus when the maid burst into the room with the lamp. She started back, half terrified, half bewildered. Had the Pani been sitting the whole time alone with him in the twilight? H'm! Her eyes flashed, and she could not resist winking at her mistress as much as to say, Do you care for him? She could well understand that the Pani preferred this one to Mr. Tiralla, or to pale, lean Pan Böhnke. The schoolmaster would turn green with envy when he saw this strong, handsome fellow. What a capital joke it would be when those two met.