How was it that he could make her feel as though she were acting wrongly?
"Leave it then, I say.

You are not the first woman, my dear, who has quarrelled with a wish fulfilled.

It is a way your sex has of rewarding gods and men .-- Here, you old witch, here is a treasure-trove for you.

You can sell it for ten francs in the town anywhere." As he spoke he tossed the casket and the stockings in it to an old decrepit woman, who was passing by with a baker's cart drawn by a dog; and, not staying to heed her astonishment, gathered his colors and easel together.
The tears swam in Bebee's eyes as she saw the box whirled through the air.
She had done right; she was sure she had done right.
He was a stranger, and she could never have repaid him; but he made her feel herself wayward and ungrateful, and it was hard to see the beautiful fairy gift borne away forever by the chuckling, hobbling, greedy old baker's woman.

If he had only taken it himself, she would have been glad then to have been brave and to have done her duty.
But it was not in his design that she should be glad.
He saw her tears, but he seemed not to see them.
"Good night, Bebee," he said carelessly, as he sauntered aside from her.
"Good night, my dear.