"'Yes,' I said, 'go and ask her forgiveness and everything will come right--women are like that!' and he--"
She pressed her hand on her heart.
"Uncle!" she cried.
"And he said: No! That would be owning a fault which he had not committed. There, my child! I have tried once more to play the part of peace-maker, but--now I wash my hands of it all. You must do it for yourselves now. Anger is bad for me, as you know, and I have had enough now to last me a month. Good-bye, Gertrude!"
"Good-bye, uncle, I thank you."
He had gone a few steps when the old egotist looked round once more. She was leaning against the trunk of a beech-tree like one who has received a blow. Her eyes were cast down, a strange smile played about her mouth.
"Poor child!" he stammered out, taking his hat from his burning forehead, and then he went back to her.
"Come now, you must keep your spirits up," he said kindly. "Over there in Niendorf that black little monkey was making a mai-trank for the judge who is going away. What do you say, Gertrude, shall we go and have some? Come, I will take you over quite quietly. You see we would go so softly into the dining-room, and I am not an egotist if you are not--one--two--three--in each others' arms--you will cry 'Frank!' he will say 'Gertrude!' and all will be forgotten. Gertrude, my good little Gertrude, do be reasonable. Is life so very blissful that one dares fling away the golden days of youth and happiness? Come, come, take my advice just this once."
He had grasped her slender wrist, but she freed herself hastily and her face grew rigid. "No, no, that is all over!" she said in a hard distinct tone.