Meanwhile the little girl, with her tiny hands resting on the floor of the chapel, was trying to scramble up out of the trap-door. She fell down, got up again, and at last came tottering with uncertain steps toward the boy. Having reached him, she seized him and nestled closely to him, at the same time fixing eyes of wonder and fear upon my face.
This decided the affair. It was obvious that the boy could not fight under conditions such as these. Of course I was too generous to take advantage of the awkward situation he was in.
“What’s your name?” asked the boy, stroking the little girl’s fair curls.
“Vasia. What’s yours?”
“Mine’s Valek. I know you. You live in the garden near the pond. You have big apples.”
“Yes, our apples are fine. Don’t you want some?”
Taking out of my pocket two apples that had been intended as payment for my shamefully fugitive band, I gave one to Valek and held out the other to the little girl. But she only hid her face and pressed closer to Valek.
“She’s frightened,” he said, and handed the apple to the child himself.
“What did you come down here for?” he asked next. “Did I ever come into your garden?”
“You can come if you want to. I wish you would!” I answered joyfully.