on, and chose
to take it as if it were in the deepest earnest; for he said, quickly,
decisively, and, as I thought, with a kind of exultation:

"Ah, then I will be disagreeable to you."

This remark, and the tone in which it was uttered, came upon me with a
shock which I can not express. He would be disagreeable to me because I
hated those who were disagreeable to me, _ergo_, he wished me to hate
him. But why? What was the meaning of the whole extraordinary
proceeding?

"Why?" I asked, mechanically, and asked nothing more.

"Because then you will hate me, unless you have the good sense to do so
already."

"Why? What effect will my hatred have upon you?"

"None. Not a jot. _Gar keine._ But I wish you to hate me, nevertheless."

"So you have begun to be disagreeable to me by pulling me out of the
water, lending me your coat, and giving me your arm all along this hard,
lonely road," said I, composedly.

He laughed.

"That was before I knew of your peculiarity. From to-morrow morning on I
shall begin. I will make you hate me. I shall be glad if you hate me."

I said nothing. My head felt bewildered; my understanding benumbed. I
was conscious that I was very weary--conscious that I should like to
cry, so bitter was my disappointment.

As we came within the town, I said:

"I am very sorry, Herr Courvoisier, to have given you so much trouble."

"That means that I am to put you into a cab and relieve you of my
company."

"It does not," I ejaculated, passionately, jerking my hand from his arm.
"How can you say so? How dare you say so?"

"You might meet some of your friends, you know."

"And I tell you I have no friends except Herr von Francius, and I am not
accountable to him for my actions."

"We shall soon be at your house now."

"Herr Courvoisier, have you forgiven me?"

"Forgiven you what?"

"My rudeness to you once."

"Ah, _mein Fraeulein_," said he, shrugging his shoulders a little and
smiling slightly, "you are under a delusion about that circumstance. How
can I forgive that which I never resented?"

This was putting the matter in a new, and, for me, an humbling light.

"Never resented!" I murmured, confusedly.

"Never. Why should I resent it? I forgot myself, _nicht wahr_! and you
showed me at one and the same time my proper place and your own
excellent good sense. You did not wish to know me, and I did not resent
it. I had no right to resent it."

"Excuse me," said I, my voice vibrating