"How long have you been married?"
"It is now eleven months."
"Eleven months--of perfect happiness!" said Liuthari slowly.
"Yes: of unspeakable happiness! Since thou understandest it--art thou also married?"
"I! No! But I--I can imagine it."
Frankly and peacefully Felicitas returned the wondering look that rested reverentially upon her. She felt that he marvelled at her beauty; but it did not disturb her--his look was pure. The contrast made her involuntarily think of the disquieting flame in the black eyes of the Tribune, which had so often alarmed her. But she could look with pleasure on this noble, serious countenance, into these deeply-penetrating gray eyes.
She now rose slowly.
"I have always," said she, with a smile which made her look still more charming, "been very much alarmed at--at--at you, whom we call 'Barbarians.' And how terrified I was at hearing the stones falling one over the other! I anxiously looked out. But when I saw how carefully you came up the narrow way, did not trample down the flowers, when even he in the white mantle carefully raised a rose-bush that had fallen on the gravel path, then I said to my little son on my arm: 'Fear not, thou apple of mine eye, they will do us no harm.' And I fearlessly filled the wine-cup. And now that I have looked into your kind eyes, now I feel myself perfectly safe just because you are both here. And I know certainly you will bring me my husband to-morrow morning. I will go and place the child there in our sleeping-room."
She pointed with the finger to a small doorway in the centre, before which hung a red woollen curtain. "Then I will bring the provisions I have in the house."
"Do not forget the wine," called out Haduwalt.