“How stupid I look!” she said to herself. “And Siegmund, how is he, I wonder?”
She wondered how Siegmund had passed the day, what had happened to him, how he felt, how he looked. She thought of him protectively.
Having strapped her basket, she carried it downstairs. Her mother was ready, with a white lace scarf round her neck. After a short time Louisa came in. She dropped her basket in the passage, and then sank into a chair.
“I don’t want to go, Nell,” she said, after a few moments of silence.
“Why, how is that?” asked Helena, not surprised, but condescending, as to a child.
“Oh, I don’t know; I’m tired,” said the other petulantly.
“Of course you are. What do you expect, after a day like this?” said Helena.
“And rushing about packing,” exclaimed Mrs Verden, still in an exaggerated manner, this time scolding playfully.
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I want to go, dear,” repeated Louisa dejectedly.
“Well, it is time we set out,” replied Helena, rising. “Will you carry the basket or the violin, Mater?”