Here, while the strong man's foot had been able to find a safe resting
place, the woman's smaller one sought in vain for a secure support on
the slimy stones. Her high heels were as much in her way as her gown,
the edges of which were already thoroughly drenched. Her courage forsook
her for the moment, she made several false steps, then stood perfectly
quiet and cast an involuntary glance toward the opposite bank, where
Hartmut stood watching her in silence, resolved to raise no hand toward
her assistance until requested to do so. Perhaps she read this in his
eyes and it gave her back her strength. With a look of decision on her
face she gave up all further search for a secure stepping stone, and
planted her foot firmly on the pebbly bottom of the stream, and a second
later, thoroughly wet now, she clutched the low bough of a tree in
preference to Hartmut's outstretched hand, and drew herself up on the
further bank. Then turning with dripping garments, to her guide, said:
"We will go on, if you please. We cannot be very far from Fuerstenstein."
Hartmut gave no syllable of reply, but a feeling akin to hate rose
within him as he looked at this woman who preferred such great
discomfort rather than come into closer contact with him even for a
moment.
This proud, spoiled man whose dazzling personality won all hearts, felt
the humiliation which had been forced upon him most keenly, and
execrated within himself the chance which had brought about this
meeting.
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