She took no notice of his friendly demonstrations, but coldly and harshly regarded his smiling face, and particularly the broad, blood-red scar which ran from forehead to chin. Then suddenly her face lighted up, and an expression of savage triumph shot from her eyes. “How disfigured you look,” she cried exultingly. “Where did you get that scar?”
“You know well, Marie,” he murmured, gloomily.
“Yes,” she cried, triumphantly. “I know it. He branded you, and you will wear this mark before God and man as long as you live.”
“You are very cruel to remind me of it, Marie,” he softly whispered.
She laughed aloud so wild and savagely, that even her mother was startled. “Cruel—I cruel!” she cried. “Ah, sir, it becomes you indeed to accuse me of it!”
Trude entered at this instant, pale and excited.
“What is the matter?”
“There is some one here who wishes to speak with you, Marie; he has something very important to tell you.”
“How dare you announce any one without my permission?” cried Frau von Werrig.
“Silence, mother!—if I may be allowed, let us hear who it is.—Speak, dear Trude, who is it?”