tinue to hold my head erect as I now do."

"Who will see us in this little dark street?" he asked in low, persuasive
tones. "May all the saints guard me from assailing the honour of a modest
maiden, fairest Barbara; yet, if you fear that I might prevent your
remaining in the future what the favour of the Most High permits you to
be, I shall rather accuse you of having inflicted upon me what you fear
may befall you; for, since the last dance, I am really no longer myself,
and can never become so until I have received from your beautiful lips
the modest consolation for which this poor, tortured, loyal soul is
yearning. May I not linger at your side long enough to ask you one
question, you severe yet ardently beloved maiden?"

"Certainly not," replied Barbara with repellent harshness. "I never gave
you a right to speak to me of love; but, above all, I shall not seek the
sharer of a game of question and answer in the street."

"Then name a place," he whispered with passionate ardour, trying
meanwhile to clasp her hand, "where I may be permitted, in broad sunlight
and before the eyes of the whole world, to say to you what robs me of
rest by day and sleep by night. Drop the cruel harshness which so
strangely and painfully contradicts the language of your glances the
evening of the last dance. Your eyes have kindled these flames, and this
poor heart will consume in their glow if I am not suffered to confess to
you that I love you with more ardour than was ever bestowed on any
maiden. This place--I will admit that it is ill-chosen--but what other
was open to me? After all, here, too, a bit of the sky with its many
stars is looking down upon us. But, if you still unkindly refuse me, or
the dread of crossing the barrier of strict decorum forbids you to listen
to me here, you can mercifully name another spot. Allow me to go to your
father and beg him for the clear hand which, in a happier hour, by not
resisting the pressure of mine, awakened the fairest hopes in my heart."

"This is too much," Barbara indignantly broke in. "Make way for me at
once, and, if you are well advised, you will spare yourself the visit to
my father; for, even if you were in earnest with your love and came as an
honest suitor to our modest house, it might easily happen that you would
descend the staircase, which is very steep and narrow, in as sorrowful a
mood as you climbed it secure of victory."

Then Pyramus Kogel changed his tone, and said bitterly: