Not go home! Never see her dear corner drawing-room again, nor the little bullfinch; never give Peterle his dinner again! Never!
A horrid feeling that it was insane folly to ask this came and went like a splash of mud. Then she answered in hasty resolution:
"Yes, I promise."
He breathed deeply. "Now we will keep quite still," he said. "The girl must get her sleep, and to-morrow I will explain everything to the landlady."
"But your great work?" she asked, attacked by another fit of self-reproach. "What will become of it?"
A melancholy smile stole over his face.
"Who knows? It will depend on my uncle. If he consents, we can live as we like.... All will be well."
"And if he doesn't?"
His right hand, which had been caressing her hair unceasingly from her forehead downwards to her neck, for a moment pressed her crown almost painfully, as if by the closer contact gathering strength for the approaching life's battle.
"Then all will be well too," he said, and smiled again.