At this, she found her tongue. Looking, not at him, but at a passer-by on the opposite side of the street, she said: "Why, I guess I have a right to be."
She tried to speak severely, but her voice quavered, and once more the young man was not sure whether the trembling of her lip signified tears or laughter.
"Are you always so cruel?" he asked, with an intentness that made her eyes seek the ground again. "Such a little crime! Is there no hope for me?"
She attempted to be dignified. "Little! I am really not accustomed——"
"Then I'm not to be forgiven?"
His tone was so humble that suddenly she had to laugh. Shooting a quick glance at him, she said:
"That depends on how you behave in future. If you promise never to——"
Before the words were well out of her mouth, she was aware of her stupidity; her laugh ended, and she grew redder than before. Schilsky had laughed, too, quite frankly, and he continued to smile at the confusion she had fallen into. It seemed a long time before he said with emphasis: "That is the last thing in the world you should ask of me."
Ephie drooped her head, and dug with her shoe again; she had never been so tongue-tied as to-day, just when she felt she ought to say something very cold and decisive. But not an idea presented itself, and meanwhile he went on: "The punishment would be too hard. The temptation was so great."
As she was still obstinately silent, he stooped and peeped under the overhanging brim of her hat. "Such pretty lips!" he said, and then, as on the former occasion, he took her by the chin and turned her face up to his.