eyes fixed upon my face,
amazed, reproachful. I felt myself blushing fierily. My tongue had led
me astray; I had lied to her: I knew it.

"Do not say you know nothing of either of the gentlemen. Herr
Courvoisier was your first acquaintance in Elberthal."

"What?" I cried, with a great leap of the heart, for I felt as if a veil
had suddenly been rent away from before my eyes and I shown a precipice.

"I saw you arrive with Herr Courvoisier," said Anna, calmly; "at least,
I saw you come from the platform with him, and he put you into a drosky.
And I saw you cut him at the opera; and I saw you go into his house
after the general probe. Will you tell me again that you know nothing of
him? I should have thought you too proud to tell lies."

"I wish you would mind your own business," said I, heartily wishing that
Anna Sartorius were at the antipodes.

"Listen!" said she, very earnestly, and, I remember it now, though I did
not heed it then, with wistful kindness. "I do not bear malice--you are
so young and inexperienced. I wish you were more friendly, but I care
for you too much to be rebuffed by a trifle. I will tell you about
Courvoisier."

"Thank you," said I, hastily, "I beg you will do no such thing."

"I know his story. I can tell you the truth about him."

"I decline to discuss the subject," said I, thinking of Eugen, and
passionately refusing the idea of discussing him, gossiping about him,
with any one.

Anna looked surprised; then a look of anger crossed her face.

"You can not be in earnest," said she.

"I assure you I am. I wish you would leave me alone," I said,
exasperated beyond endurance.

"You don't wish to know what I can tell you about him?"

"No, I don't. What is more, if you begin talking to me about him, I will
put my fingers in my ears, and leave you."

"Then you may learn it for yourself," said she, suddenly, in a voice
little more than a whisper. "You shall rue your treatment of me. And
when you know the lesson by heart, then you will be sorry."

"You are officious and impertinent," said I, white with ire. "I don't
wish for your society, and I will say good-evening to you."

With that I turned down a side street leading into the Alleestrasse, and
left her.

CHAPTER XIV.

"So!
Another chapter read; with doubtful hand
I turn the page, with doubtful eye I scan
The heading of the next."

From that evening Anna let me alone, as I thought, and I was glad of it,
nor d