Not on account of what Dame Joanna said the day before yesterday--though
what she says must be true, and she told me that all--you know what--was
at an end. No; my own sense told me this time; for I said to myself:
Such a motherless, helpless little thing, a slave, too, and as pretty as
the angels, her master's son took a fancy to her, how could she defend
herself? And how cruelly the poor little soul was punished!--Yes, little
one, you may well weep! Why, my own eyes are full of tears. Well, so it
had to be and so it was. You and I and the Lord Almighty and the Hosts
of Heaven--who can do anything against us?--So you see that even a poor
fool like me can understand how it all came about; and I do not accuse
you, nor have I anything to forgive. It was just a dreadful misfortune.
But it has come to a good end, thank God I and I can forget it entirely
and for ever, if only you can say: 'It is all over and done with and
buried like the dead!'"

Before he could hinder her, she snatched his hand, to her lips with
passionate affection and sobbed out:

"You are so good! Oh! Rustem, there is not another man on earth so good
as you are, and my mother will bless you for it. Do what you will with
me! And I declare to you, once for all that all that is past and gone,
and only to think of it gives me horror. And it was exactly as you say:
my mother dead, no one to warn me or protect me,--I was hardly sixteen,
a simple, ignorant creature, and he called me, and it all came over me
like a dream in my sleep; and when I awoke. . . ."

"There we are," he interrupted and he tried to laugh as he wiped his
eyes. "Both laid up with holes in our heads.--And when I am in my own
country I always think the prettiest time is just when the hard winter-
frost is over, and the snow melted, and all the flowers in the valleys