"Thinking--what's the good of thinking? I'm tired. I want to sleep."
"Then go to sleep."
"But you must go to sleep, too," she said.
"Very well, I'll go to sleep, too."
And I also half stretched myself out on the bench opposite her.
"But you must shut your eyes," she commanded again. I obediently shut my eyes. I saw suns and light--green wheels and sheaves of fire the whole time--saw them the whole time. That comes from your blood being stirred up. And every now and then I'd say to myself:
"Hanckel, you're making a fool of yourself."
It was so quiet I could hear the little bugs crawling about on the leaves.
"You must see what she's doing," I said to myself, hoping to be able to admire her in her sleeping glory to my heart's content.
But when I opened my eyes the least little bit to steal a look, I saw--and, gentlemen, a shiver of fright went through me to the very tips of my toes--I saw her eyes fixed on me in a wide, wild stare, in a sort of spying frenzy, I may say.