"That is always the way," concluded she, with a nod of the head that looked droll enough in its seriousness, "one never has what one wants; and still, people say one ought to be contented. Sometimes I wish I were dead. And then again I feel as if I would like to promenade up and down the live-long summer through, wear beautiful dresses, live like a princess, and--"
"And be made love to by a prince--isn't it so?"
"Of course. Alone, one can have no happiness. What would be the use of my princess's dresses, unless I could drive some one perfectly crazy with them?"
He gazed so steadfastly in her eyes, that she suddenly blushed and was silent. The strange mixture of lightheartedness and melancholy in the poor child, of enjoyment of life and reserve, of secret love and introspective moralizing, attracted him more and more. Then, too, the night, the subdued light of the lanterns, and the stirring music, and his own loneliness of heart, and his seven-and-twenty years--
"Zenz," he whispered, bending over so near to her ear that his lips almost touched her neck, "if you would only care just a little bit for me, why shouldn't we fare just as well as if you really were a princess and I a prince?"
She did not answer. Her lips were parted, she breathed quickly, and her nostrils quivered, while her eyes were tightly shut, as if it were all a dream from which she did not wish to wake.
"We could lead a life like that in Paradise," continued he, gently stroking with his own the two little hands that she had laid side by side on the table. "We are both of us two stray children for whom no one cares. If we should stay at home a year and a day, and never let ourselves be seen, who would inquire what had become of us? All about us people live and love and think only about themselves! Why should not we think only of ourselves, too?"
"Go away from me!" answered she, in a low voice. "You are not in earnest. You think about me? Not even in your dreams. How can you care for me? Such a red-haired little monkey, as Black Pepi called me today!"
"Your hair is very pretty. I remember yet how pretty it made you look, when you let it hang loose over your blue cloak that morning in Herr Jansen's studio, when you ran away so fast. And now I will hold you tight by it. Come! I thought we were going? It begins to be cool; at least, I see that you are trembling."
"Not from cold!" she said, in a strange tone, as she stood up and wrapped her shawl tightly about her.