"You are behaving like a little barbarian, not like a little girl who has been taught Greek manners.
Katharina is no longer a child, though she is still often kind enough to play with you.

Go to her at once and beg her pardon for being so rude." "I!" exclaimed Mary, and her tone conveyed the most positive refusal to obey this behest.

She sprang to her feet, and with flashing eyes, she cried: "We are not Greeks, neither she nor I, and I can tell you once for all that she is not my kind and welcome visitor, nor my friend any more! We have nothing, nothing whatever to do with each other any more!" "Are you gone mad ?" cried Eudoxia, and her long face assumed a threatening expression, while she rose from her easy-chair in spite of the increasing heat, intending to capture her pupil and compel her to apologize; but Mary was more nimble than the middle-aged damsel and fled down the alley towards the river, as nimble as a gazelle.
Eudoxia began to run after her; but the heat was soon too much for her, and when she stopped, exhausted and panting, she perceived that Katharina, worthy once more of her name of "water-wagtail," had flown past her and was chasing the little girl at a pace that she shuddered to contemplate.

Mary soon saw that no one but Katharina was in pursuit; she moderated her pace, and awaited her cast-off friend under the shade of a tall shrub.

In a moment Katharina was facing her; with a heightened color she seized both her hands and exclaimed passionately: "What was it you said?
You--you--If I did not know what a wrong-headed little simpleton you were, I could...." "You could accuse me falsely!--But now, leave go of my hands or I will bite you.