Then he drew back his hands, and he did it in such a manner that his thoughts were but too evident.
“No—no! You can yield; but you cannot love!” He was overwhelmed. “Unhappy child, your future is beyond my control. God forgive you for having ruined mine!”
He strode past her; she did not stir; he opened the door and closed it again; she spoke not a word; she heard him on the stairs; she heard his last step on the flag-stones and down on the road—then she found relief in one piercing shriek, only one; but it brought her mother to her.
When Petra awoke to consciousness, she found herself lying in her bed, undressed, and carefully tended. In front of her sat her mother, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands, and her eyes of flame fastened on her daughter.
“Have you studied enough with him?” asked she. “Have you learned something now? What is now to become of you?”
Petra replied with a burst of tears. Long, very long did her mother sit listening to this, and then with a solemnity peculiar to her, she said:—
“May the Lord curse him!”
