His eyes looked over the girl quickly and sharply during this speech. She was still very youthful looking, as she stood there before him, certainly not more than seventeen years of age, with a slender, refined figure. Her dress was extremely simple. During the hasty movement which she made to save the child, her round straw hat had slipped off, and hung loosely on her neck, so that the full, warm, midday sun lit up her face, and the shining golden hair which surrounded it, the latter simply parted in front, and wound round the back of her head in heavy coils. Perhaps the blinding illumination of the sun made her look particularly charming at this moment, else her face was not actually beautiful, at least, not yet, though the lines of future beauty might already be traced in her features. At present they were still unformed and childish; the only characteristic which gave the face a particular charm were the great, deep, blue eyes, with their unusual, almost mysterious expression. There lay an earnestness beyond her years in these eyes, something more even than that, a shade, such as a life of care, suffering, and oppression, which cannot be fled from, will imprint upon a human countenance. Certainly the young face showed no trace of this, except in the one feature, the childish brow showed no furrow, the mouth no hard lines, but only in the eyes this shade lay deeply, as she lifted them, now, full of gravity and reproach.
"A human life does not seem worth much in your eyes, or surely you would have given more thought to his danger."
Count Arnau looked greatly astonished at this reprimand, and measured the youthful admonitress with a long, surprised glance.
"The child is all right!" said he, in an off-hand tone, "he cried for pleasure, I suppose."
"But a moment later, and he would have been run over."
Hermann shrugged his shoulders. "Would have been!--Yes, if we always troubled ourselves about what might have happened, the day would not be long enough for every one's complaints. Fortunately all is well in this case, your courageous interference saved me from a disagreeable responsibility. I greatly regret having frightened you."
"I was not frightened."
Her words sounded cold and repellant, the way in which the Count treated the whole matter appeared to hurt the young girl. She knelt down by the boy, and busied herself in rubbing off the sand with which his little face and hands were covered, fortunately the only trace which the accident had left.
Hermann remained where he was, watching her. Hitherto, he had always stoutly maintained, that, with the exception of his grandmother, who, in consequence of her energetic, masculine character, he hardly reckoned as belonging to the feminine race, every woman either went into hysterics or fainted at the sight of danger, and was greatly astonished to find a second exception here. "I was not frightened," she had declared, and, indeed, she had not been. Her face had retained its usual colour, her hands did not tremble, as she went gently and deftly to work, the young girl showed just as much calmness now as she had just before shown presence of mind.
The door of the neighbouring house now opened, and a woman, poorly and untidily dressed, with rough hair, and a dull, expressionless face, came hurriedly out to take the boy from a stranger's arms, the Count felt in his pocket.