“'Why do you wear a wig?' he said.
“I answered: 'Because I am bald.'
“'No,' he said, 'you're not bald, you've been shaved. I can feel the hair coming.'
“He put his finger on my head. I felt reckless and laughed.
“'Ah!' he said, 'you'll come with me and explain all this; your nose and eyes are looked for.'
“I went with him quietly to the police-station....”
Harz seemed carried away by his story. His quick dark face worked, his steel-grey eyes stared as though he were again passing through all these long-past emotions.
The hot sun struck down; Christian drew herself together, sitting with her hands clasped round her knees.