without perceiving a soul. God only
knew where everybody had gone. Not a domestic was near. And with this
disquieting knowledge she was obliged to return.

At the very moment when she returned, Rudolf noticed that Fanny had
hastily concealed a book which she evidently had hitherto been reading,
and flung a handkerchief over it in order that he might not see it.

Rudolf was interested, he felt he must take a deeper glance into the
character of this woman. What book could it be that she was so anxious
to hide from him? These modern women read risky books in private, and
love to be rigid moralists in public at the same time.

He raised the handkerchief from the book, and he opened the book--it was
a Prayer-book. And as the book opened wide of its own accord in two
places, he perceived two pressed flowers between its leaves--an iris and
an amaranth.

Rudolf suddenly grew grave. His heart felt heavy. Only now did he begin
to reflect what sort of a game he was playing. These two flowers so
fascinated him, so engrossed his attention, that he only perceived that
the lady had returned when she stood feverishly trembling before him.

Each of them shrank back from the other.

The secret was revealed.

Rudolf gazed speechlessly at the woman and she at him. How beautiful,
how bewitchingly beautiful she was in her dumb misery as slowly,
unconsciously, she folded her hands together and pressed them against
her bosom, to stifle by force the tempest of her tears!

Rudolf forgot his part, and, deeply moved, exclaimed, "My God!"

Now, for the first time, he really understood everything.

The sorrow in his voice broke down the energy with which Fanny had
hitherto restrained her tears, and they began to flow in streams down
her beautiful face as she sank into an armchair.

Taking tenderly one of her pretty hands, Rudolf asked compassionately,
"Why do you weep?"

But he knew well enough now why she wept.

"Why did you come here," inquired the lady in a voice trembling with
emotion--she could control herself no longer--"when, day after day, I
have been praying God that I might never see you again? When I avoided
every place where I might chance to meet you, why did you seek me out
here? I am lost, for God has abandoned me. In all my life, no man's
image has been in my heart save yours alone. Yet I had buried that away
too, far out of sight. Why, why did you make it come to life again? Have
you not observed that I fled every sp