" "I understand, Mrs. Behrens!"
"Goodness gracious me!" thought the clergyman's wife.
[Illustration: BETWEEN DANCES BENJAMIN VAUTIER]
"I feel as if I were quite a Delilah. Going to a _rendezvous_ at half
past eight in the evening! At my age too! Ah me, in my old age I'm going
to do what I should have been ashamed of when I was a girl." Then aloud.
"Braesig don't puff so loud any one could hear you a mile off." Resuming
her soliloquy: "And all for the sake of a boy, a mischievous wretch of a
boy. Good gracious! If my pastor knew what I was about!" Aloud. "What
are you laughing at, Braesig? I forbid you to laugh, it's very silly of
you." "I didn't laugh, Mrs. Behrens." "Yes, you _did,_ I heard you
distinctly." "I only yawned, Mrs. Behrens, it's such frightfully slow
work lying here." "You oughtn't to yawn at such a time. I'm trembling
all over. Oh, you little wretch, what misery you have caused me! I can't
tell any one what you've made me suffer, and must just bear it in
silence. It was God who sent Braesig to my help." Suddenly Braesig
whispered in great excitement, his voice sounding like the distant cry
of a corn-crake: "Mrs. Behrens, draw yourself out till you're as long as
Lewerenz's child;[9] make yourself as thin as you possibly can, and put
on a pretty air of confusion, for I see him coming over the crest of the
hill. His figure stands out clearly against the sky.
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