Othmar smiled.
'No artists are honest when they are tempted by beautiful subjects. He will make you the admiration of all the Paris art world next year.'
She did not reply at once. Then she repeated:
'It was not honest. I did not think he was going to show it, and bring people to me.'
'No; in that I think he took unfair advantage of your hospitality.'
'That is what I mean. I shall not let him ever go back.'
'Poor Loswa! The punishment will perhaps be greater than the offence.'
She was again silent. She knew nothing of the light give and take of social intercourse. To her the things of life were all very serious.
He felt an extreme compassion for her, and with great patience, kindness, and tact, strove to overcome her half-fierce shyness. He talked to her in a way which she could understand and of things she knew; of the life of the sea, of the fruits and their seasons, of dogs and their ways, of old poets and simple writers such as she loved and reverenced. Little by little her sullenness gave way, her face lightened with its natural smile; she felt confidence in him and spoke to him with that candour and directness which were as common to her as its blue tint to the sea-water; but all the while she thought with sinking heart:
'I wonder if I might ask him how late the hour is? I wonder if I might tell him how much I do want to go home?'