ng higher and
stronger was a chief necessity of her nature, nothing would have struck
her as more absurd than that this flute-playing, verse-scribbling
art-colleague of hers, who decked himself out in silk and satin like a
bearded girl, could ever become dangerous to her peace of mind.

Consequently, when she found that ever since that stolen kiss on
Christmas night, innocent though it was, the picture of the robber rose
up before her oftener than before, each time causing a certain ashamed
surprise to creep over her virgin heart, she fought against this
weakness with all her power, and took pains to exaggerate, in her own
mind, the faults and absurdities of this gay deceiver. But, in doing
so, she was obliged to occupy her thoughts with him to an uncommon
extent, and she often caught herself studying his praiseworthy
qualities with far greater fondness than his laughable ones.
Unfortunately, she had plenty of spare time for these studies; for, as
Schnetz expressed it, she was enjoying a vacation from idolatry since
Jansen's and Julie's departure. And, finally, what contributed as much
as anything else to make her heart more tender, was the just fear that
things were going badly with her neighbor, and might end seriously for
him some fine day, unless some one came to his aid.

She positively breathed easier when she discovered that he was hungry
and cold, and began quite cheerfully to revolve in her mind how she
could best assist him.

She took good care to say nothing about it to his friends. To her alone
he should owe his rescue, and that without having the slightest
suspicion of it. She herself could hardly be said to be swimming in
luxury; that which she earned was just sufficient to carry her through
the world respectably; for she had the greatest horror of anything in
her art that had a taint of fraud about it, and was exceedingly
conscientious with regard to such matters. More than once she had taken
back a picture, with which the person who had ordered it expressed
himself as quite content, merely because it did not satisfy herself.

But the suspiciously jolly air with which Rosenbusch met her on the
stairs, the ominous stillness next door, where the stove no longer sang
its morning song, nor the flute summoned the mice to the dance, so cut
her to the heart, that she would not have hesitated even to have got
into debt, if by so doing she could have saved her friend from
bankruptcy.

It was a sunny morning