what she could not possibly wear. The story about the “fairest woman” must be a romance, for had the chain been bestowed on her for that reason, it would not have come to her stealthily and by night.
Anger and shame gnawed all the more deeply, as she no longer had any one in whom to confide. No wonder, then, that the first time she again met him, about whom revolved all these indignant and humiliating thoughts, she blushed so deeply that he could not but misconstrue it, and, conscious of this, she blushed still more.
She hurriedly turned home, seized the chain, and although it was yet day-time she sat down above the town to wait for him. Now he should have it back. She felt sure he would come, for he, too, had blushed on seeing her, and he had been absent the whole time. But soon these same thoughts began to speak in his behalf. He would not have grown so red had she been indifferent to him; he would have come sooner had he been at home. Twilight was creeping on apace; for during these three weeks the days had grown very much shorter. But as darkness closes about us our thoughts often undergo a change. She was sitting right above the road among the trees; she could see,
