"Well, well, say the Blessing!" she repeats, shutting her eyes tighter. He closes his, he _wants_ to say it seriously. But his eyes keep opening of themselves. He presses down his eyelids, but there remains a chink through which he sees her, in a strangely colored light, so that he cannot do otherwise than look at her. She is tired--he feels sorry for her. He sees her trying to sit further back on the bed and letting her head rest against the wall. She will go to sleep like that, he thinks. "Why not take a pillow?" he would like to say, almost crossly, but he cannot--ahem, ahem-- But she doesn't hear. He hurries through the Blessing, finishes it, stands up, and there remains, not knowing what to do next. "Treine," he calls, but so low, it could not wake her. He goes up to her bed and bends over her. Her face smiles, it looks so sweet--she must be dreaming of something pleasant--how beautifully she smiles--it would be a shame to wake her! Only her little head will hurt--_öi_, what hair she must have had--he has looked at her curls, long, black hair--all shorn now[140]--her cap is a thin embroidered one, with holes--she _is_ a beauty! He smiles, too. But she must be woke. He bends lower and feels her breath--he draws it in hastily--she attracts him like a magnet--half-unconsciously he touches her lips with his own. "I wasn't asleep at all!" she says suddenly, and opens a pair of mischievous, laughing eyes. She throws her arms round his shoulders and pulls him down to her. "Never mind," she whispers into his ear, and her voice is very sweet, "never mind! God is good and will help us--was it not He who brought us together? He will not forsake us. There will be firing and lights--there will be enough to live on--it will be all right--everything will be right--won't it, Yössele? Yes, it will!" He makes no reply. He is trembling all over. She pushes him a little further away. "Look at me, Yössele!" it occurs to her to say. Yössele wishes to obey, and cannot. "Poor wretch," she says gently, "not accustomed to it yet--ha?" He wants to hide his head in her breast, but she will not allow him to. "Why are you ashamed, wretch? You can kiss, but you won't look!" He would rather kiss her, but she will not allow him. "_Please_, look at me!" Yössele opens his eyes wide, but not for long. "Oh, please!" she says, and her voice is softer, "silkier" than ever. He looks. This time it is _her_ lids that fall. "Just tell me," she says, "only please tell me the truth, am I a pretty woman?" "Yes!" he whispers, and she feels his breath hot on her cheek. "Who told you?" "Can't I see for myself? You are a queen--a queen!" "And tell me, Yössele," she continues, "shall you be always just as--just the same?" "What do you mean by that, Treine?" "I mean," her voice shakes, "just as fond of me?" "What a question!" "Just as dear?" "What next?" "Always?" "Always!" he is confident. "Shall you always eat with me?" "Of course," he answers.