"Listen," I said. "You know the rules with regard to letter-writing."
She understood me well enough now. The colour left her cheeks and
fluttered back again like a waving flag; her lips were slightly parted;
she looked at me with wide-open eyes.
"You know the rules," I said. "No girl--no German girl, or Italian
girl, or French girl, or Dutch girl, or any girl in the school--without
the consent of her parents, or the special leave of the Baroness, is
allowed to post letters except through the post-box in the hall."
"Oh, that is very nice," she said--"very nice."
She waited expectantly.
"You know what I mean."
"But I don't post letters except in the way that is what is called
legitimate."
"Riki, where is the good of prevaricating?"
"I know not what you call pre-vare-cating. I never heard the word."
"Listen to me," I said. "You had no right to ask me to post the letters
for you."
"What would poor, poor Heinrich do if you had not?" she said. "What do
we not owe you, you kind English girl, with the so kind, good face? You
have our great gratitude."
"I don't want your gratitude," I said. "You did wrong to ask me. I
would not do wrong for all the world--I mean wrong like this--quite
wrong; and it was wrong of you to tempt me. I did not know; I was
unaware of the rule; but even so, I was silly, and you will quite
understand that I will not do it any more."
She took my hand and stroked it very gently. After a silence of two or
three minutes, during which I hoped to get a full explanation from her,
she raised her eyes and said very gently:
"What about the great prizes on the great day of the break-up, and the
beautiful Easter lilies that we are each presented with before the
Easter services? Think you not that will be a very beautiful occasion
for us all?"
"I don't know," I answered. "I may not be here for Easter."
She looked at me with a startled expression. After a minute's pause she
began again in a very inconsequent way to rattle off some news with
regard to the school. It was not until her visit was very nearly over
that she said:
"Once is good, twice is better, but the third is best. If your friend,
the kind and gracious Hermione, goes out, will she not drop this letter
into the post-box?"
"She will not," I replied.
"And why? It is only to poor Heinrich. May he not receive this letter,
this note of so true feeling from one he regards? May it not be put
into the box?"
"There is no reason why Heinrich, whoever he is, should not hear from
you twice every day as far as I am concerned," I said; "but I will not
post it, nor will Hermione."
"I know; but you cannot tell the mind of your friend."
"I know she will not do it, Riki."
Riki considered for a minute; then she put the note again into her
pocket.
"Very well," she said. "I little guessed that you would have a heart so
hard, instead of soft and overflowing with the love for the German
Fatherland."