When she had finished, he said, "I thank you--and listen--if you will do me one kindness more--'forgive me for letting such madness get possession of me to-day, and forget all that I have said and done. I do not know myself how it all happened. _You_ never gave me any cause for it--never, never! And you shall never more hear anything from me that can annoy you." "It is _I_ who have to pray for your pardon," she said, interrupting him; "_I_ should have told you all, differently and better, and not have irritated you by my rude manner; and now, even this wound----" "It was necessary, and high time that I was brought to my senses! and, as I said, it is of no consequence--do not talk of forgiveness. You have done me good, and I thank you for it. And now go to rest, and there--there is your handkerchief--you can take it with you now." He offered it to her, but she stood still and seemed to struggle with herself; at last, she said, "You have lost your jacket on my account, and I know that you had the money for the oranges in your pockets. It struck me just now--I cannot replace it at once, for I have not sufficient, and if I had it would belong to my mother; but here I have the silver cross that the painter laid on the table the last time he was with us; I have never seen it since, and do not care to keep it longer in my box. If you sell it--it is well worth a couple of piastres, my mother said--it would help to repair your loss, and what may be wanting I will try to gain by spinning at night, when my mother is asleep." "I shall not take it!" he said, shortly, pushing back the glittering cross she had taken from her pocket. "You _must_ take it," she cried; "who knows how long you may be laid up with your hand? There it lies, and I will never set my eyes on it again!" "Then throw it into the sea!" "It is no present that I make you--it is only what you have a right to, and what I owe you." "A right to! I have no right to anything from you! If you should happen to meet me in future, do me one kindness--do not look at me, that I may not think that you are putting me in mind of how I have offended you. And now--good night!--and let it be the last." He laid her handkerchief in the basket, placed the cross on the top of it, and closed the lid. When he looked up and saw her face, he started. Large, heavy tears rolled over her cheeks--she let them run their course unheeded. "Maria Santissima!" he cried. "Are you ill? You tremble from head to foot!"