But what could she have been doing at the mill so late at night?

"How can you venture into the woods so late?" I said--"you so slight and
young?"

She laughed, and said:

"I am not so young--I am nineteen."

But she could not be nineteen; I am certain she was lying by at least
two years, and was only seventeen. But why should she lie to seem older?

"Sit down," I said, "and tell me your name."

And she sat down, blushing, by my side, and told me her name was
Henriette.

Then I asked her:

"Have you a lover, Henriette, and has he ever taken you in his arms?"

"Yes," she said, smiling shyly.

"How many times?"

She was silent.

"How many times?" I asked her again.

"Twice," she answered softly.