"No; you are not worthy of a sentiment that you have awakened without even deigning to perceive it. You are so indifferent, so cold." Then, as if she had said too much, she lowered her eyes and was silent.
Jacob felt sorry for her, and leaning towards her he kissed her hand. Muse started as if he had applied a hot iron, trembled violently, und buried her head in the sofa-pillow.
Then for the first the thought that Muse loved him struck Jacob. To have allowed such a sentiment to develop seemed to him a great crime. He was as horrified with himself as if his conduct had been that of a libertine. He started from his seat and looked at her. This sudden agitation could be interpreted in different ways. Muse did not prolong the scene, for even if the desired end was not completely attained, she hoped much for the future in the silence and troubled mien of the young man.
"Go, monsieur!" said she. "I am ill. I do not know what I have said. My head is confused."
Jacob hesitated a moment, looked at her pale face, saluted her respectfully, and went out. He had hardly closed the door behind him when the mother entered.
"Very well, what has happened?" asked she.
"He is stupid, very stupid," replied the adorable Emusia, shrugging her shoulders. "He is a fool, but I will conquer him yet."
"I fear, on the contrary, that he is not enough of a fool for us," replied Madame Wtorkowska.