Jenny stretched out her hand for the bell-handle.
The baron jumped up and, catching her hand, said—
“For God’s sake, don’t ring the bell!”
Jenny tore her hand from him as if a toad had touched her.
The baron poured forth a stream of words.
“Give me a few minutes; let me explain. You are not quite well yet—you are ill! What you have said just now cannot be seriously meant, and I attribute it more to your nerves, which have been shaken by pain and suffering, than to your real feelings. For God’s sake, consider. You are not quite yourself yet; you have to take care of yourself and of the child besides. You have neither father nor mother; you are quite alone in the world; you have no one to take care of you but me. Can you thrust me away from you so lightly? What would become of you without me, Jenny? I should be a scoundrel if I forsook you in difficulties and want, if I did what you bid me just now.”
“As to what will become of me and my child, that is now my own affair, Baron Edmund. I shall be able, to trust, to earn bread enough for us both, and I shall make a proper, honest man of my son. I shall not allow you to play the generous benefactor; I will accept no support from you. Look out for some other woman, who may perhaps be more grateful for your liberality.”
“Jenny, you hurt me cruelly! I see there is no use in talking to you to-day. I will go, and come another time. But I cannot leave you in want.”
Saying this, he took a note for a hundred florins from his pocket-book.
Jenny sprang up from her seat as if stung by a viper.
“Baron Edmund! I am an honest woman, though once
