"Do I really look as if I would make sport of you? Can you really believe it?"
Maia looked up at him. No, those eyes were not mocking, at least not now, but again they exerted the same spell over her as they had done awhile ago, and she was helpless to resist it--and there again was that inexplicably oppressive sensation. No answer occurred to the young girl, and she only gently shook her head.
"No?" asked Wildenrod. "Well then, prove to me that the guest who has arrived to-day does not inspire you with fear by gratifying me in a request--will you?"
"I must first know what your request is," said Maia, taken captive, and with a vain attempt at resuming her old petulant tone. Wildenrod stooped down to her, and his voice sank into a low whisper.
"Everybody here calls you Maia, everybody in this circle has the right to address you simply by your name, which is the prettiest one in the world. Even that Herr Runeck has been granted that privilege--only I am left out in the cold. I am not so bold as to claim the same right as Cecilia, who uses the sisterly 'thee' when addressing you, but--may I, too, call you Maia?"
He had taken her hand, as though accidentally. His request was neither so very presumptuous nor so unusual, the elderly man might certainly be allowed this freedom in addressing a girl of seventeen, of whose brother he was soon to be the brother-in-law--nevertheless, Maia delayed her answer, delayed so long, that he asked reproachfully:
"Do you refuse me?"
"Oh, no, certainly not, you are Cecilia's brother, Herr von Wildenrod."
"Yes, indeed, and Cecilia's brother has another name, which he would also like to hear called by you, Maia,--my name is Oscar."
No answer followed, but the little hand quivered within his grasp and tried to free itself, but in vain, he held it fast.