"Who told you that?"
"He."
Athalie crooked her fingers like eagles' claws, and her teeth shone clinched between her red lips. It was as if she would tear the girl in pieces. Then her unbridled rage suddenly turned into scornful laughter. She left Timéa and went to her room.
Herr Katschuka paid another visit the same evening. At table Athalie overwhelmed Timéa with unwonted kindness.
"Do you not think, Herr Captain, that Timéa is much prettier with her hair dressed in this simple way?"
The captain assented. Athalie smiled. Now it was no longer a joke, but a punishment which was to be inflicted on the girl.
Only two days to the marriage. During that time Athalie overflowed with attention and tenderness to Timéa. She must not go out to the kitchen, and the servants were told to kiss her hand on entering the room. Frau Sophie often called her "little lady." The dress had come home finished, and what child-like delight it gave Timéa! She danced round it and clapped her hands.
"Come and try on your wedding costume," said Athalie, with a cruel smile.
Timéa let them put on the splendid dress she had herself embroidered. She wore no stays, and was already well formed for her age, and the dress fitted her very fairly. With what shy pleasure she looked at herself in the great mirror! Ah! how lovely she will be in her wedding finery! Perhaps she thought, too, that she would inspire love! Perhaps she felt her heart beat; and possibly a flame was already alight there which would cause her grief and pain.
But that was no matter to those who were carrying on the shameful jest. The maid who dressed her bit her lips so as not to laugh aloud. Athalie brought out the bridal wreath, and tried it on Timéa's head. The myrtle and the white jasmine became her well.