"I could not," she answered, dropping her face in her hands.
"Maman, he has seen me at the window!"
"While I was gone?" cried the mother.
"He passed on the other side of the street. He looked up purposely, and
saw me." The speaker's cheeks were burning red.
Zalli wrung her hands.
"It is nothing, mother; do not go near him."
"But the pay, my child."
"The pay matters not."
"But he will bring it here; he wants the chance."
That was the trouble, sure enough.
About this time Kristian Koppig lost his position in the German
importing house where, he had fondly told his mother, he was
indispensable.
"Summer was coming on," the senior said, "and you see our young men are
almost idle. Yes, our engagement _was_ for a year, but ah--we could not
foresee"--etc., etc., "besides" (attempting a parting flattery), "your
father is a rich gentleman, and you can afford to take the summer easy.
If we can ever be of any service to you," etc., etc.
So the young Dutchman spent the afternoons at his dormer window reading
and glancing down at the little casement opposite, where a small, rude
shelf had lately been put out, holding a row of cigar-boxes with
wretched little botanical specimens in them trying to die.
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