"But you have never said a word to me about it."
"Well," said the mother, "you haven't yet made a single word of inquiry after your friend. He is a very nice, sensible young man."
The mother went out of the room to make the coffee. Elisabeth had her back turned to Reinhard, and was still busy with the making of her little chick-weed bower.
"Please, just a little longer," she said, "I'll be done in a minute."
As Reinhard did not answer, contrary to his wont, she turned round and faced him. In his eyes there was a sudden expression of trouble which she had never observed before in them.
"What is the matter with you, Reinhard?" she said, drawing nearer to him.
"With me?" he said, his thoughts far away and his eyes resting dreamily on hers.
"You look so sad."
"Elisabeth," he said, "I cannot bear that yellow bird."
She looked at him in astonishment, without understanding his meaning.
"You are so strange," she said.