‘Oh, I’m good at guessing!’ she went on. ‘Sometimes, simply from the way papa coughed, I could tell in the next room whether he was pleased with me or not.’
Till that day Acia had never once spoken to me of her father. I was struck by it.
‘Were you fond of your father?’ I said, and suddenly, to my intense annoyance, I felt I was reddening.
She made no answer, and blushed too. We were both silent. In the distance a smoking steamer was scudding along on the Rhine. We began watching it.
‘Why don’t you tell me about your tour?’ Acia murmured.
‘Why did you laugh to-day directly you saw me?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know really. Sometimes I want to cry, but I laugh. You mustn’t judge me—by what I do. Oh, by-the-bye, what a story that is about the Lorelei! Is that her rock we can see? They say she used to drown every one, but as soon as she fell in love she threw herself in the water. I like that story. Frau Luise tells me all sorts of stories. Frau Luise has a black cat with yellow eyes.…’
Acia raised her head and shook her curls.
‘Ah, I am happy,’ she said.
At that instant there floated across to us broken, monotonous sounds. Hundreds of voices in unison and at regular intervals were repeating a chanted litany. The crowd of pilgrims moved slowly along the road below with crosses and banners.…