“Married?” said the danneman, throwing back his head disdainfully.
He resumed, with a sigh:
“Whether married or not, Karine is not afraid of wicked tongues.”
“Do wicked tongues come to torment you even here, Master Joë? I should have thought, in this wilderness—”
The danneman shrugged his shoulders, and looked discontented, but did not reply.
“Have I displeased you again without knowing it?” asked Christian, after a few seconds.
“Yes,” replied the danneman, “and, as it is not well to go together where we are going with something on your heart, I will speak out. Why did you ask me whether Karine was afraid of the bear? I will not take another step until I know whether you are thinking anything evil either of her or of me.”
Christian found it difficult to reply to this direct appeal to his sincerity, made, as it was, with a sort of grand simplicity, recalling the manners of early ages. The feeling of curiosity which had led him to question Bœtsoi about Karine had its origin in mysterious causes in his own heart, which it was impossible for him to explain. He thought to make matters right by correcting Bœtsoi’s error as to the facts of the case.
“Master Joë,” he said, “I did not ask whether your sister was afraid of the bear, but whether she had been married, and I do not see anything offensive in my question.”
The peasant looked at him again, and with such a keen, searching glance, that he felt quite confused.