She gazed up at him motionless, with half-open mouth. She seemed scarcely to comprehend what was happening. For it was the first time any man had ever stroked her cheek. "What's the matter, sweet one, dearest? What have I done to you?" he asked in a low voice, leaning over her. "Tell me why you rage so furiously against me." She tried to speak, but her lips would not obey. She wanted to guard herself, but her arms sank to her sides. "Listen," he continued, "I delight in you, every hour that I see you. Every day you grow dearer to me. You are the sunshine of the house, but you keep up your feud with me, just as if I were positively your arch-enemy, or God knows what monster." She shut her eyes, and swayed as if she must lie down and fall asleep. "And look here," he began again. "If I have teased you a little now and then, you must take it in good part. While I have been away, all of you have just got into the habit of doing what you like. But I want to inculcate method and order; and you, too, my dear child, I would have fall in with my rules. And that won't be so difficult, for I shall require nothing very dreadful of you. Will you agree? Say yes, please. Do me the favour." Whereupon she dropped down on the wooden stump, and covering her face with her hands, began to cry bitterly. "What a quaint young thing it is," he thought. "Instead of throwing herself into my arms, which I, as a good uncle, deserve, she sits down and howls." He placed himself beside her, and looked down on her head. Slowly, half uncertain, he raised his left hand. "May I?" he wondered, and let it glide gently over her damp hair, which shone, red as a fox, in the firelight. Then she clung with both hands to his arm, and leaning her head against it, whispered, still sobbing-- "Why--why are you so horrid to me?" "When have I been horrid? I have always meant to be good to you, child." "Really! Will you really be good to me?" "Of course, my child." He stooped, and was going to kiss her on the forehead; but as at this moment she moved her head sideways, it happened that their lips rested on each other. "How innocently she lets herself be kissed," he thought. And then suddenly she jumped up, and tore out of the room as fast as her clattering pattens would permit. He ran both hands through his hair, and strode like one possessed up and down the uneven tiles of the kitchen. A childlike, foolish blissfulness filled his soul. He felt as if he was again fifteen years old, in jackets and with curly hair, coming home triumphant from his first rendezvous, when Felicitas had given him her first kiss. Felicitas! Like the stab of a knife the thought of her pursued him. But the next minute he laughed out loud, and raised his hands in proud confidence to the ceiling. The kiss of the innocent child had opened founts of youthful gladness within him.