Blood rushed to my head, from shame, and I stepped toward her as quickly as I could.
"Give it to me, mother."
But it was too late. The light in her face had died. The smile on her lips had vanished.
As I drank the coffee, I said to myself:
"Tonight I shall speak tenderly to her and make up for what I have done."
In the evening I could not speak to her kindly, nor the next day.
* * *
Three or four months later a strange woman brought a cup of coffee to my room. Suddenly I felt a sting in my heart. I wanted to cry out from pain. I shivered, my whole being trembling in stark agony.—For a man's heart is a just judge; a man's heart does not concern itself with paragraphs in statute books or trifles.
Deep in the Hills of Life there is a fount