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She had been sitting on the end of Emma's bed talking quietly of self-control and now Emma was asleep. Ulrica's corner had been perfectly quiet. Miriam had been lying listening to the steady swishing of the rain against the chestnut leaves. "No; what is it?" "Oh, most wonderful. Ich bin so empfindlich. I am so sensible." "Sensitive?" "Oh, it was most wonderful. Only hear and I shall tell you.
And I weep. Ach! It was of most beautifullest." Miriam felt as if she were being robbed.... This was Ulrica. "You remember the Konfirmation, miss?" "Oh, I remember." "Have you weeped?" "We say cry, not weep, except in poetry weinen, to cry." "Have you cry?" "No, I didn't cry. But we mustn't talk. We must go to sleep. Good night." "Gute Nacht. Ach, wie empfindlich bin ich, wie empfindlich...."
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