"Why, it is all the same to me what you did," he said, turning pale. "I
was going to fetch my stick; I left it behind." I could say nothing in
answer to this, but I took my revenge another way; I stretched out my
gun before him, as if he were a dog, and said:

"Over!"

And I whistled, as if coaxing him to jump over.

For a moment he struggled with himself; his face took on the strangest
play of expression as he pressed his lips together and held his eyes
fixed on the ground. Suddenly he looked at me sharply; a half smile lit
up his features, and he said:

"What do you really mean by all this?"

I did not answer, but his words affected me.

Suddenly he held out his hand to me, and said gently:

"There is something wrong with you. If you will tell me what it is, then
perhaps..."

I was overwhelmed now with shame and despair; his calm words made me
lose my balance. I wished to show him some kindness in return, and I
put my arm round him, and said:

"Forgive me this! No, what could be wrong with me? There is nothing
wrong; I have no need of your help. You are looking for Edwarda,
perhaps? You will find her at home. But make haste, or she will have