Concluding her dance, she glided breathless and with panting bosom
toward Hardenberg, who had sunk into the easy-chair, and was looking
on with wondering eyes. Bursting into loud, melodious laughter, she
sat at his feet, and, pressing her glowing face against his knees,
looked searchingly and suppliantly into his eyes.
"You are angry with me," she said; "oh, pardon me, but I had first
to give vent to my exultation. Now I will be quite sensible."
"And what do you call sensible, then?" asked Hardenberg, who, under
the power of the woman's glances, vainly tried to impart to his
countenance an air of gravity and sternness.
"I call it sensible to reply honestly to the questions your
excellency will put to me now," she said, in a caressing tone.
"Well, then, let us see whether you are really sensible or not,"
said Hardenberg. "In the first place, please rise."
She shook her head slowly. "No," she said, "I will remain at your
feet until you have heard my confession and granted me absolution."
"And suppose I refuse to grant you absolution?"
"Then I shall die at your feet!"
"Ah, it is not so easy to die."
"It is easy to die when one wants to, and has such a friend as this
is," she exclaimed, drawing from her hair one of the two long silver
pins with which her heavy black tresses were partially fastened.
"Strange girl!" murmured Hardenberg, surprised, while she was
looking up to him with radiant eyes, and a smile playing on her
lips.
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