"I have none. But how you look at me! Have you grown tired of Zorrillo? I am ill-suited for a gallant."
She shuddered slightly. Her bright face had again grown old, so old and weary that he pitied her. But she soon regained her composure, and continued:
"What are you saying? Ask the questions yourself now, if you please."
"Where is my native place?"
"A wooded, mountainous region in Germany."
"Ah, ha! and what do you know of my father?"
"You look like him, there is an astonishing resemblance in the forehead and eyes; his voice, too, was exactly like yours."
"A chip of the old block."
"Well, well. I see Adam before me. . . ."
"Adam?" asked Ulrich, and the blood left his cheeks.