"Emil!" she cried loudly, almost harshly.
Hollfeld was evidently startled, but in a second he stood beneath her window, and waved a "good-morning" to her.
"What!" he cried, "are you there already? May I come up?"
"Yes," she replied more gently.
And in a few moments he entered the room. Helene had reason to be better pleased with his present air and manner; there was an expression of great gravity upon his countenance as he threw his hat upon the table and pushed a chair close to her side. Taking both her hands tenderly within his own, he gazed into her face, and really seemed struck by her ashy cheeks and the lustreless eyes that met his.
"You look ill, Helene," he said pityingly.
"Do you wonder at it?" she asked, with a bitterness that she was unable to conceal. "Unfortunately I am denied the gift of such perfect self control as could enable me in a few hours after a crushing experience to look forward with content and gaiety to the future. I envy you."
"You are unjust, Helene," he replied quickly, "if you judge me from my exterior. Is it the part of a man to whine and cry when he submits to the inevitable?"
"You certainly do not seem inclined to any such course."
He was provoked beyond measure. The puny, little creature at his side, who, with her crippled figure, ought to be thankful to God if a man could so far control himself as not to treat her with absolute rudeness and aversion, and who had previously been so grateful for the smallest attention, had suddenly taken upon herself to reprove him! Although he had done all he could to inspire her with faith in his ardent love for her, in his soul he thought it showed a measureless vanity in the child to imagine herself capable of inspiring any man with such a passion, and with great irritation he acknowledged to himself that in her case he had to contend with most determined obstinacy and disgusting sentimentality. It cost him great pains to control himself, but he even accomplished a melancholy smile, which became him infinitely.