"They are here--they are in the village!" she had called out to him in timid excitement, as she had flown into the yard like a Mænad. At first he had not recognised her in a light cotton skirt, a bed-jacket buttoned over her panting bosom, and a handkerchief of many colours on her head, tied under the chin, according to a fashion of the peasant girls in the neighbourhood.
"They gave me these things to put on," she had added apologetically, on observing his puzzled looks.
And then in pleasure at the news that his friends had arrived, he had forgotten her, till, while waiting for them on the bridge, he had caught sight of her hovering about the ruins. The head-dress had fallen on her neck, and the wild black tresses escaped, and waved in confusion about her sunburnt face. She seemed to be smiling absently to herself.
He was ashamed to think his friends had seen this woman, and decided to pay her off and dismiss her on the spot, so that they should not encounter her again.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
She started.
"Nothing, Herr," she replied, guiltily lowering her eyes.
"Why did you smile?"
"Ah, Herr," she murmured, "I was so glad."
"Why?"