“Fair one, I give you greeting.”
She started in surprise at my jesting tone. Alas, I knew not what I was
saying. She smiled timidly, and looked at me.
“Have you been up in the hills to-day?” she asked. “Then you must be
wet. I have a kerchief here, if you care for it; I can spare it... Oh,
you don't know me.” And she cast down her eyes and shook her head when I
did not take her kerchief.
“A kerchief?” I answer, grinning in anger and surprise. “But I have a
jacket here--won't you borrow it? I can spare it--I would have lent it
to anyone. You need not be afraid to take it. I would have lent it to a
fishwife, and gladly.”
I could see that she was eager to hear what I would say. She listened
with such attention that it made her look ugly; she forgot to hold her
lips together. There she stood with the kerchief in her hand--a white
silk kerchief which she had taken from her neck. I tore off my jacket in
turn.
“For Heaven's sake put it on again,” she cried. “Don't do that! Are you
so angry with me? _Herregud!_ put your jacket on, do, before you get wet
through.”