“What advice?” repeated Sanin. “Well, you see, your mother considers that to dismiss Herr Klüber simply because he did not show any special courage the day before yesterday …”
“Simply because?” said Gemma. She bent down, picked up the basket, and set it beside her on the garden seat.
“That … altogether … to dismiss him, would be, on your part … unreasonable; that it is a step, all the consequences of which ought to be thoroughly weighed; that in fact the very position of your affairs imposes certain obligations on every member of your family …”
“All that is mamma’s opinion,” Gemma interposed; “those are her words; but what is your opinion?”
“Mine?” Sanin was silent for a while. He felt a lump rising in his throat and catching at his breath. “I too consider,” he began with an effort …
Gemma drew herself up. “Too? You too?”
“Yes … that is …” Sanin was unable, positively unable to add a single word more.
“Very well,” said Gemma. “If you, as a friend, advise me to change my decision—that is, not to change my former decision—I will think it over.” Not knowing what she was doing, she began to tip the cherries back from the plate into the basket…. “Mamma hopes that I will mind what you say. Well … perhaps I really will mind what you say.”
“But excuse me, Fräulein Gemma, I should like first to know what reason impelled you …”
“I will mind what you say,” Gemma repeated, her face right up to her brows was working, her cheeks were white, she was biting her lower lip. “You have done so much for me, that I am bound to do as you wish; bound to carry out your wishes. I will tell mamma … I will think again. Here she is, by the way, coming here.”