"Yes, that might do!" said George, honestly. "I should have no objection, I'd take you on the spot, Fräulein--but it can't be."
Edith burst into a merry laugh. "No, it certainly can't be, but your offer is very flattering to me, and I will consider it seriously. Now let us ride on, the animals have rested long enough." She urged her mule forward and George followed. He respectfully remained a few paces behind the young lady, but could not help feeling a little regret that "it couldn't be."
Meantime Gerald and Danira pursued their way alone. The latter, it is true, had paused a moment and asked: "Shall not we follow?"
"I think not," replied Gerald, so coolly that it was evident he did not feel at all inclined to submit to his fiancée's whim. "The path is steep and stony. I at least prefer to ride along the comfortable road."
"And give Edith a lesson," Danira added in a low tone.
"Edith must learn to take more interest in my profession; that is essential in a soldier's wife."
"Certainly. I only fear that, with this mode of teaching, you will accomplish nothing."
"Why not? Edith Is still half a child, and children must be taught. Yet, if you desire to give me any advice on this point, I shall be grateful." There was unconcealed mockery in this appeal for counsel to the girl of seventeen, but the cold, sullen glance that answered the scoff showed that it had failed to reach its mark. The young Slav was no longer a child; the dark shadow on her brow betrayed how far she had already advanced into womanhood.
"Edith can be influenced in only one way," she replied. "Then she can be swayed completely--but the appeal must be made to her heart."
"And you think I have not understood that?"