“Very well,” said Gemma. “If you, as a friend, advise me to change my decision—that is, not to change my former decision—I will think it over.” Not knowing what she was doing, she began to tip the cherries back from the plate into the basket…. “Mamma hopes that I will mind what you say. Well … perhaps I really will mind what you say.” “But excuse me, Fräulein Gemma, I should like first to know what reason impelled you …” “I will mind what you say,” Gemma repeated, her face right up to her brows was working, her cheeks were white, she was biting her lower lip. “You have done so much for me, that I am bound to do as you wish; bound to carry out your wishes. I will tell mamma … I will think again. Here she is, by the way, coming here.” Frau Lenore did in fact appear in the doorway leading from the house to the garden. She was in an agony of impatience; she could not keep still. According to her calculations, Sanin must long ago have finished all he had to say to Gemma, though his conversation with her had not lasted a quarter of an hour. “No, no, no, for God’s sake, don’t tell her anything yet,” Sanin articulated hurriedly, almost in alarm. “Wait a little … I will tell you, I will write to you … and till then don’t decide on anything … wait!” He pressed Gemma’s hand, jumped up from the seat, and to Frau Lenore’s great amazement, rushed past her, and raising his hat, muttered something unintelligible—and vanished. She went up to her daughter. “Tell me, please, Gemma…” The latter suddenly got up and hugged her. “Dear mamma, can you wait a little, a tiny bit … till to-morrow? Can you? And till to-morrow not a word?… Ah!…” She burst into sudden happy tears, incomprehensible to herself. This surprised Frau Lenore, the more as the expression of Gemma’s face was far from sorrowful,—rather joyful in fact. “What is it?” she asked. “You never cry and here, all at once …” “Nothing, mamma, never mind! you only wait. We must both wait a little. Don’t ask me anything till to-morrow—and let us sort the cherries before the sun has set.” “But you will be reasonable?” “Oh, I’m very reasonable!” Gemma shook her head significantly. She began to make up little bunches of cherries, holding them high above her flushed face. She did not wipe away her tears; they had dried of themselves. XXV