Did he want to kiss or strike her? She did not know; but she was afraid of him and defended herself as best she could. "You runaway!" she hissed, "hm, you're a nice one. Runs away from home, hides himself in the wood. But they got you all the same--and it served you right."
All at once he let her go; she stood in front of him mocking him. She could easily have run away now, but she preferred to stand there and scold him: "You runaway!"
He got very red and hung his head.
"How could you think of doing such a thing?" she continued with a certain cruelty. "So silly. Everybody laughed at you. We positively could not believe it at first. Well I never, said I, the boy runs away without money, without a cap, without a piece of bread in his pocket. You wanted to go to America like that, I suppose, eh?" She eyed him from top to toe and then threw her head back and laughed loudly: "To think of doing such a thing."
He did not raise his head, only murmured half to himself: "You shouldn't laugh at it, no, you shouldn't."
"Come, what next? Cry, perhaps? What does it matter to me? Your mother cried enough about it, and your father ran about as if he were crazy. All the rangers in the district were on their legs. Tell me, didn't you get a good thrashing when they dragged you home by the collar?"
"No." He suddenly raised his head and looked straight into the eyes that were sparkling a little maliciously.
There was something in his glance--a mute reproach--that compelled her to lower her lids.
"They didn't beat me--I wouldn't have stood it either--no, they didn't beat me."
"Shut you up?" she asked curiously.