"I would as soon set my feather bolster on end, paint it black and white, and make love to it as to Katrin Texel." "You do worse every day of your life," retorted Helene, with pretty spite, tapping the floor with the point of one delicate foot.
"And, pray, what do I that is worse ?" I said, knowing full well what.
The Little Playmate was silent a minute, only continuing to tap the flags with a kind of naughtiness that became her.
"Katrin Texel would not look at you, charming as you think yourself," she said, at last.
"Did she tell you so, Little Sister ?" said I, drawing a bow at a great venture.
The arrow struck, and I was content.
"Well," she answered, somewhat breathlessly, "what if she did?
Surely even your vanity can take nothing out of a girl saying that she cannot abide you." But I answered nothing to this, only stroked the mustache which was beginning to thrive admirably on my upper lip.
"Of all the--" began Helene, looking at me fixedly.

Then she stopped.
"Well," said I, pausing in the caressing of my chin, "what do I worse every day than make love to Katrin Texel ?" Her eyes fairly sparkled fire at me.

They were "sweetest eyes" no more, but rarely worth looking into all the same.
"You go ogling and staring at that little she-cat in the window over there, that screeches and becks and pats herself, all for showing off! And you, Hugo Gottfried, like a great oaf, thinking all the time how innocent and sweet and--oh, I have no patience with you!--to neglect and think nothing of--of Katrin Texel, and--and then to go gazing and gaping after a thing like that!" And I declare there were tears in the Little Playmate's eyes.
"Dear Little Sister, why are you so mindful about Katrin Texel ?" said I.
"Faith, my lass, wait till she comes again, and I will court her to your heart's content.

There--there--I will be a very Valentine's true lover to your Katrin." For all that she was not greatly cheered, but edged away, still strangely disconsolate when I came near and tried to pet her.

Mysterious and hidden are the ways of women! For once, when I would have put my hand about her pretty slender waist, she promptly took me by the wrist, and holding it at arm's-length, she dropped it from her with a disgustful curl of her lip, as if it had been an intruding spider she had perforce to put forth out of her chamber into the garden.
Yet formerly, upon occasion when, as it might be, she was reading or looking out of the window, if I but came behind her and called her "Little Sister," I might even put my hand upon her shoulder, and so stand for five minutes at a time and she never seem to notice it..