Hella blushed furiously, and the gentleman took off his hat
and said: Ah, Fraulein Helenchen, you are looking very well. How are
you? He never looked at me, and when he had gone she said: "That was Dr.
Fekete, who assisted at my operation."--"And you tell me _that_ now for
the first time?" Then she put on an innocent air and said: "Of course,
we've never met him before," but I said: "I don't mean _that_. If you
knew how red you got you would not tell me a lie." Then she said: "What
am I telling you a lie about? Do you think I'm in love with him? Not in
the very least."--But when one is _not_ in love one does not blush like
that. Anyhow I shan't tell everything now either; I can hold my tongue
too.
March 14th. Yesterday we did not talk to one another so much as usual; I
especially was very silent. When the bell rang at 5 and I had just been
doing the translation Hella came and begged my pardon and brought me
some lovely violets, so of course I forgave her. This is really the
first time we've ever quarrelled. First she wanted to bring me some
sweets, but then she decided upon violets, and I think that was much
more graceful. One gives sweets to a little child when it has hurt
itself or been in a temper. But flowers are not for a child.
March 19th. Frieda Belay is dead. We are all terribly upset. None of us
were very intimate with her, but now that she is dead we all remember
that she was a schoolfellow.
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