She suddenly remembered what she had promised the lonely youth. But it was now too late, she would apologize in the evening.
"If its something that's to be an entire secret and you do not wish to be seen in the house, run across the courtyard as fast as you can. The old lady up stairs might happen to look out of the window. Dear me, what's the matter? You're so pale and don't speak a word!"
He made no reply but followed her advice. Without looking to the right or left, both glided across the little courtyard, which was now very dark, and entered the work-shop whose windows were directly opposite to the bean arbor. They were all closed.
"We'll open one," whispered the brisk little maiden. "You're not accustomed to the smell of leather and cobbler's wax, and besides there's no danger; as I said before, there's not even a cat in the courtyard to overhear us. Well? Have you recovered your breath a little? I really shudder at the thought of what this secret may be."
She had seated herself on a three-legged stool, with her back to the open window, that he might not see her face distinctly, and was smoothing with both hands the rebellious little curls that clustered around her forehead. "It's very hot here," she said as he still preserved his silence, and with both hands behind his back paced heavily up and down the dark room, absorbed in deep thought. At last he stopped before a table, on which lay various tools and half finished pieces of work piled upon each other.
"Reginchen," said he, "perhaps this will be the last time we shall see each other. If all signs do not fail, I shall either be a prisoner or on my way to America to-morrow."
"Merciful God!" she exclaimed with unconcealed anguish, "you're not in earnest."
"Only too much so," he answered in a hollow tone. "I am not surprised; I've seen this coming a long time. Reginchen--look at me and tell me: do you believe I'm capable of a crime?"
"You! You're the best man under the sun! You could not hurt a child--"
"Thank you, Reginchen. To hear you say so is a great consolation, perhaps the only one I shall take with me, if I'm compelled to fly; no, not even the consciousness that I'm suffering for a holy cause--"