"Never mind, Regina," he said, turning away; "you are a good girl."
He went down to the river to bathe. When he came back he found his room tidied as usual, only the coffee was not there.
"She is so tired out that she's fallen asleep," he thought, and resigned himself to wait. At least, she should not be reprimanded any more to-day.
But in consequence of his bath he was bitterly cold, and found he could not forego the customary warm beverage much longer. So, in order not to wake her he went on tiptoe into the kitchen to see to the fire himself. But she was not asleep, though at the first glance it looked like it. She sat on the edge of her couch, motionless, with her hands before her face. Now and again a quiver passed through her frame, a symptom of the sleep of exhaustion. Yet on regarding her closer, he saw that glistening tear-drops were falling through her red, plump fingers, and her breast was shaking with gurgling sobs.
"What's the matter, Regina? Why are you crying?"
She did not answer, but her sobs became louder.
"Have I hurt your feelings, Regina? I shouldn't have scolded you if I had known where you had been."
She let her hands fall from her face, and looked at him with eyes swollen from weeping.
"Ah, _Herr_!" she said in a voice half choked by tears. "No one--ever--called me that before; and--it's not--true."
His mood changed and became harsh again. He was not conscious of having used any abusive epithet. It was too ridiculous of this creature, who was accustomed to being hounded about from pillar to post, to pretend to be thin-skinned and fastidious.
"That I--I was a good----" She broke again into convulsive sobs that stifled her voice.
He shook his head, perplexed at her distress. He had never looked very deeply into the most complex problems of the human soul, and did not know that even dishonour has its code of honour. Laughing, he laid his hand on her shoulder.
"Don't cry any more, Regina; I meant no harm. And now get my breakfast ready."
"May--I--bring it in?" she asked, still sobbing.
"I only thought I mightn't--" She moved to the hearth and began blowing the smouldering fire, using her tear-stained cheeks as bellows.
After that she was no longer shy of entering his room when he was there. Ever anxious to forestall his wishes, she seemed to read his countenance without a question passing her lips.