e
in the world. I wished to trouble no one--only to work as hard as I
could, and do the work that was set for me as well as I knew how. I had
my wish and so far was not unhappy.

But what did Adelaide mean? True, I had once described von Francius to
her as young, that is youngish, clever and handsome. Did she,
remembering my well-known susceptibility, fear that I might fall in love
with him and compromise myself by some silly _Schwaermerei_? I laughed
about all by myself at the very idea of such a thing. Fall in love with
von Francius, and--my eyes fell upon the two windows over the way. No;
my heart was pure of the faintest feeling for him, save that of respect,
gratitude, and liking founded at that time more on esteem than
spontaneous growth. And he--I smiled at that idea, too.

In all my long interviews with von Francius throughout our intercourse
he maintained one unvaried tone, that of a kind, frank, protecting
interest, with something of the patron on his part. He would converse
with me about Schiller and Goethe, true; he would also caution me
against such and such shop-keepers as extortioners, and tell me the
place where they gave the largest discount on music paid for on the
spot; would discuss the "Waldstein" or "Appassionata" with me, or the
beauties of Rubinstein or the deep meanings of Schumann, also the
relative cost of living _en pension_ or providing for one's self.

No. Adelaide was mistaken. I wished, parenthetically, that she could
make the acquaintance of von Francius, and learn how mistaken--and again
my eyes fell upon the opposite windows. Friedhelm Helfen leaned from
one, holding fast Courvoisier's boy. The rich Italian coloring of the
lovely young face; the dusky hair; the glow upon the cheeks, the deep
blue of his serge dress, made the effect of a warmly tinted southern
flower; it was a flower-face too; delicate and rich at once.

Adelaide's letter dropped unheeded to the floor. Those two could not see
me, and I had a joy in watching them.

To say, however, that I actually watched my opposite neighbors would not
be true. I studiously avoided watching them; never sat in the window;
seldom showed myself at it, though in passing I sometimes allowed myself
to linger, and so had glimpses of those within. They were three and I
was one. They were the happier by two. Or if I knew that they were out,
that a probe was going on, or an opera or concert, there was nothing I
liked better than to sit for a