I didn't stop to speak with her that night, but
hurried away towards my room, conscious--for I did not dare to look
behind me, or I am sure I should have relinquished my design--that her
large, sorrowful eyes were full of the tears she had kept back while I
had stood before her.
I reached my room as soon as possible, and, after assuring myself that
my neighbor was still absent, carefully inserted my second nosegay
into her keyhole, and rushed from the house as though I had committed
burglary.
I was very young then, very romantic, and wholly wanting in assurance.
I must have been, or I should never have regarded it as a crime, not
against myself, but others, that I was making my days miserable and my
nights sleepless on account of two young girls, one of whom I had never
seen, and the other of whom was merely a flower-merchant.
When I clambered up to my room late that night, the flowers were no
longer where I had put them. I had been torturing myself all the evening
with the thought that Hermine might have felt offended, and that I
should find them torn in pieces and thrown down at my door, or that she
would be waiting for me with a severe reprimand for my boldness and
impertinence.
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