“It is now half past three, and there is a train to Elberthal at seven.”
“Seven!”
“Seven: a very pleasant time to travel, nicht wahr? Then it is still quite light.”
“So long! Three hours and a half,” I murmured, dejectedly, and bit my lips and hung my head. Then I said, “I am sure I am much obliged to you. If I might ask you a favor?”
“Bitte, mein Fräulein!”
“If you could show me exactly where the train starts from, and—could I get a ticket now, do you think?”
“I’m afraid not, so long before,” he answered, twisting his mustache, as I could not help seeing, to hide a smile.
“Then,” said I, with stoic calmness, “I shall never get to Elberthal—never, for I don’t know a word of German, not one,” I sat more firmly down upon the sofa, and tried to contemplate the future with fortitude.
“I can tell you what to say,” said he, removing with great deliberation the bundles which divided us, and sitting down beside me. He leaned his chin upon his hand and looked at me, ever, as it seemed to me, with amusement tempered with kindness, and I felt like a very little girl indeed.