"Over the river?"
"Yes, Herr."
"The next time any one assaults you, come and fetch me."
She did not answer. "Do you understand?" She folded her hands, and looked at him beseechingly.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Please, Herr, don't shoot at them," she stammered. "They like you to do that. He--the gnädiger Herr, I mean--tried it once. Then they began to shoot too, from the other side, and there was firing here and firing there; the wonder was no one got shot. Don't you see, if they get into the habit of carrying guns about with them always, they are certain to hit me one day, for I'm obliged to go off the island sometimes?"
It was the longest and most sensible speech he had as yet heard from her lips. He had not suspected the existence of so much thoughtful wisdom behind that low brow, in its frame of wild hair.
"You are right, Regina," he replied. "For your sake I must forbear from provoking them."
He saw in the moonlight a dark flush suffuse her face.
"For my sake, Herr?" she said hesitatingly. "I don't quite understand what you mean, Herr."