“Only silently and circumspectly!” said Otto.
“I should not have expected theft from you!” said she. “But tell me why you do it?”
Otto trembled; it was impossible for him to tell her his reasons, or to express the word,—“Thou art my sister!”
His lips were silent.
“To many a fellow,” said she, “have I been kinder than I ought to have been, but see whether any of them think about Sidsel! And you do it! You who are so fine and so genteel!”
Otto pressed together his eyelids; he heard her speak; an animal coarseness mingled itself with a sort of confidential manner which was annihilating to him.
“She is my sister!” resounded in his soul.
“Come now! come now!” and, descending the steps, she followed after him.
“I know a better way!” said she, as they came to the lowest story. She seized his arm and they again descended a flight of steps.
Suddenly a door opened itself, and Louise, still dressed, stepped forth with a light. She uttered a faint cry, and her eye riveted itself upon the two forms before her.