He smiled kindly. He was much too glad to know that she was back again to scold her.
"Go and cook me something hot as quickly as you can," he said. "You'll be glad of your supper too."
She gazed at him in mute amazement.
"Why don't you go?"
"I will--but, oh!" And then as if ashamed of what she was on the point of saying, she rushed past him into the kitchen.
"She almost claimed her flogging," he murmured, laughing, as he looked after her.
He was sitting at his desk where he generally worked, when she brought in the evening meal. The lamp with its green shade cast a subdued uncertain light over the apartment. He liked to watch her as she moved swiftly to and fro, in and out of the shadows. To-day her appearance almost frightened him. She looked resplendently, proudly beautiful. Not a trace of her former degradation was apparent. The once forlorn and half-tamed girl might have been taken for a duchess, so graceful and distinguished were all her movements; so pure and full of charm the contour of her young erect figure. Was it the neat woollen dress, or the new jacket with its silver-grey fur--kazabeika, as they called it in Poland--that was responsible for the transformation? As she laid the table she smiled to herself a happy shame-faced little smile, and every now and then flashed a rapid stealthy glance across at him. It was evident she wanted to be admired, but dared not attract his attention.
When she came within the circle of light made by the lamp, in order to place it on the supper table, he turned his eyes quickly away to make her think he had noticed nothing. But all the same he could not resist letting fall a remark.
"How conceited we are of our new clothes!" he said banteringly.
A vivid blush spread over her face and neck.