"Could you not?"
The smile in his eyes dazzled her a little; it was so strange, and yet had so much light in it; but she did not understand him one whit.
"No; how could I?" she said earnestly. "If I were to save for two years, I could not get francs enough to buy anything worth giving back; and I should be so unhappy, thinking of the debt of it always. Do tell me if you put those stockings there?"
"No"; he looked at her, and the trivial lie faltered and died away; the eyes, clear as crystal, questioned him so innocently. "Well, if I did?" he said, frankly; "you wished for them; what harm was there? Will you be so cruel as to refuse them from me?"
The tears sprang into Bébée's eyes. She was sorry to lose the beautiful box, but more sorry he had lied to her.
"It was very kind and good," she said, regretfully. "But I cannot think why you should have done it, as you had never known me at all. And, indeed, I could not take them, because Antoine would not let me if he were alive; and if I gave you a flower every day all the year round I should not pay you the worth of them, it would be quite impossible; and why should you tell me falsehoods about such a thing? A falsehood is never a thing for a man."
She shut the box and pushed it towards him, and turned to the selling of her bouquets. Her voice shook a little as she tied up a bunch of mignonette and told the price of it.
Those beautiful stockings! why had she ever seen them, and why had he told her a lie?
It made her heart heavy. For the first time in her brief life the
Broodhuis seemed to frown between her and the sun.
Undisturbed, he painted on and did not look at her.