"Don't do that," Gagin whispered to me. "Don't exasperate her. You don't know her. She would be capable of clambering up the town. Look yonder, rather, and see how ingenious the people hereabouts are."
I looked about me. A thrifty old lady had made herself very comfortable in a kind of narrow booth made of boards piled up in one corner, and knitted her stocking, while she occasionally glanced askance at us. She had beer, cake, and soda-water for tourists. We sat down on a bench and attacked our heavy tin mugs of cooling beer. Assja still sat motionless; she had drawn up her feet, and wound her muslin scarf about her head. Her charming, slender figure showed sharp against the sky, but I could not look at it without annoyance. Even on the previous day I had seen something intense, unnatural in her. "Does she want to astonish us?" I thought. "What for? What a childish freak!" As if she had fathomed my thought, she cast a quick and piercing glance at me, laughed loudly, sprang in two bounds from the wall, and going to the old woman, asked for a glass of water.
"You think that I want to drink it?" she said, turning to her brother. "No; there are some flowers up there that I must water."
Gagin made no reply, but she scrambled up the ruins glass in hand, and, stopping from time to time and bending down, with extraordinary painstaking she let fall some drops of water, which glistened in the sun. Her movements were full of grace, but I was vexed as before, although I was forced to admire her lightness and dexterity. In one perilous spot she uttered a little shriek with design, and then laughed loudly again. That annoyed me still more.
"The young lady climbs like a goat," mumbled the old woman, and stopped knitting for a moment.
Meanwhile Assja had emptied her glass and come down, roguishly swaying to and fro. A strange, imperceptible smile played round her brows, and nostrils, and lips; half audacious, half merry, the dark eyes were shining.
"You find my behavior scandalous," her face seemed to say. "Very well. I know that you admire me."
"Neatly done, Assja; neatly done," said Gagin under his breath.
It seemed as if she felt suddenly ashamed of herself. Her long lashes fell, and she sat down near us meekly, as if conscious of naughtiness. Now for the first time I could see her face fairly--the most changeful that I had ever beheld. For a few moments it was very pale, and took on a reserved, almost a melancholy expression. Her features seemed larger, stronger, and more simple. She was perfectly still. We made the tour of the ruins (Assja followed us), and were very enthusiastic over the view. Meanwhile dinnertime approached. Gagin paid the old woman, asked for another glass of beer, and cried, turning to me with a sly look,