"She is so tired out that she's fallen asleep," he thought, and resigned himself to wait. At least, she should not be reprimanded any more to-day.
But in consequence of his bath he was bitterly cold, and found he could not forego the customary warm beverage much longer. So, in order not to wake her he went on tiptoe into the kitchen to see to the fire himself. But she was not asleep, though at the first glance it looked like it. She sat on the edge of her couch, motionless, with her hands before her face. Now and again a quiver passed through her frame, a symptom of the sleep of exhaustion. Yet on regarding her closer, he saw that glistening tear-drops were falling through her red, plump fingers, and her breast was shaking with gurgling sobs.
"What's the matter, Regina? Why are you crying?"
She did not answer, but her sobs became louder.
"Have I hurt your feelings, Regina? I shouldn't have scolded you if I had known where you had been."
She let her hands fall from her face, and looked at him with eyes swollen from weeping.
"Ah, Herr!" she said in a voice half choked by tears. "No one--ever--called me that before; and--it's not--true."
His mood changed and became harsh again. He was not conscious of having used any abusive epithet. It was too ridiculous of this creature, who was accustomed to being hounded about from pillar to post, to pretend to be thin-skinned and fastidious.
"What isn't true?" he demanded.
"What you said."