"Nothing," I answered. "What business is it of yours?"
My adversary jerked his shoulder as if he intended to take his hand out of his pocket and strike me. I did not blink.
"I'll show you!" he threatened.
I stuck out my chest.
"Hit me! Try!"
The moment was crucial. On it depended the character of our future relationship. I waited, but my opponent continued to fix me with the same scrutinising gaze and did not move.
"I'll hit—too" I said, but more peaceably this time.
Meanwhile the little girl, with her tiny hands resting on the floor of the chapel, was trying to scramble up out of the trap-door. She fell down, got up again, and at last came tottering with uncertain steps toward the boy. Having reached him, she seized him and nestled closely to him, at the same time fixing eyes of wonder and fear upon my face.
This decided the affair. It was obvious that the boy could not fight under conditions such as these. Of course I was too generous to take advantage of the awkward situation he was in.
"What's your name?" asked the boy, stroking the little girl's fair curls.
"Vasia. What's yours?"
