gesture and thanked her with a smile, which appeared however, to the coarse peasant girl more like defiance, a sort of mockery, incapable as she was of detecting in it an inexpressible and tragic renunciation.
"You laugh," she protested in a rage, "but consider this, Monsieur, that Count as you are, I am well worth you. The Govaertzes, established as long in Smaragdis as the Kehlmarks, are almost as noble as their lords."
Then, becoming suddenly wheedling and supplicating and ready to abandon herself to him if he had but encouraged her by the least sign of love, she resumed. "Listen, Monsieur, I love you, Yes, I love you … I have even fancied for a long time that you loved me," she added, raising her voice, exasperated by that serene attitude, in which she was unable to surmise a withered grief, the scar of a long incurable wound. "Once you showed me some kindness; I did not seem to be displeasing to you three years ago, when you first established yourself here. Why that playing? I, on my side, believed you, and I dreamed of becoming your wife. Strong in this affection I have refused some of the richest suitors of the country, even certain well-known men in town."
