roughly, like a peasant. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”
“What business is that of yours? I’m from that village—there—” she said, as in the act of going away. She stopped sewing and called the herd together which had scattered.
“What business is that of mine? Among Christian people it is customary to tell your name when it is asked. Are you Tejka or Miljenka or Mara—?”
“No; I am the Naja of Toscha Nedeljković.”
Then she became very red and ran away.
The devil take the hunt!—I thought, and turned and followed the girl.
After that I was in the forest every day with Naja. At first she was shy, and would not come near. Sometimes she was ugly tempered if I approached her as a peasant would. By degrees she became accustomed to me and confiding, and said that I was not just like the other gentlemen. She chattered about her household duties, the gossip of the village. She declared the village boys were angry because she worked no more in the spinning room, and did not join in the Kolo dance.
“And why don’t you?”
