startled by his abruptness. After a pause she continued:--

"I am sure you are not ashamed of your birthplace, and--"

He interrupted her sharply:--

"I also am sure I am not ashamed of it."

"If you had permitted me to finish," she said quietly, "you would have
had no need to speak so sharply. I spoke seriously. I wanted to say that
I am sure you have no reason to feel ashamed of your birthplace, and
that perhaps I ought not to have asked a question that you evidently do
not want to answer. Uncle says if my curiosity were taken from me, there
would be nothing left but my toes."

Her contrition melted Max at once, and he said:--

I will gladly tell you, Fräulein, if you want to know. I was born--"

"No, no," she interrupted, "you shall not tell me. I will leave you at
once and see you no more if you do. Besides, there is no need to tell
me; I already know. I am a sorceress, a witch. I regret to make the
confession, but it is true; I am a witch."

"I believe you are," answered Max, looking at her admiringly and seating
himself beside her on the window bench. He had learned from Gertrude of
Augsburg and many other burgher girls that certain pleasantries were
more objectionable to them in theory than in practice; but this burgher
girl rose to her feet at his approach and seemed to grow a head taller
in an instant. He quietly took his old place and she took hers. She