off. The thought that he was going to leave her,
that he would be surrounded by dangers and might stand in need of her
help, came over her with such force that she had all she could do to
restrain her tears.

He was gazing at the ground with a sad face, and had not noticed her
emotion.

"You are in one of your jesting moods again," he said, staring at a
large photograph of the Cellini "Perseus." "And I willingly give you
permission to ridicule all my former 'amours and courtesies,' and to
look upon them as Ariostian sports, springing from pure love of
adventure. But, you shall not lay hand on this, my last and lasting
passion. It is of a very different calibre; and, though I dare not
mention its name to you, I am sure you would yourself admit that this
flame has nothing in common with the Nannies, Annies, and Barbaras that
I once loved. But I won't be such a fool as to take you into my
confidence. Then, indeed, you would let out upon me the vials of your
raillery, and I am anxious that we should part good friends."

"You speak in riddles, Rosenbusch. If you really should lose your
reason in a sensible way--I mean over a subject that is worth the
trouble--why should I make fun of you?"

"Because--but no, it is useless to say any more about it. Do tell me,
for Heaven's sake! would you have believed this Monsieur Ollivier to
have been capable of such a vile performance, such a piece of silly
defiance--like a corps-student 'renowning it?' A man that only a little
while ago--"

"No dodging, Herr von Rosebud. You have told me too much for you to try
and put a seal on your lips now. As a woman, and as your true, sincere
friend, it is not only my right but my duty to be curious. Out with
it--who is this latest flame?--and if I can aid you by word or deed--"

Her voice grew unsteady again. She did not dare to look at him. He,
too, let his eyes wander around the studio in another direction.

"If you positively insist upon knowing," he stammered, at last--"and,
after all, there's nothing to be lost or gained by my telling you--the
person of whom I speak is the only female being to whose peace of mind
I can't imagine myself in any way dangerous--I couldn't imagine it even
in a dream. It is impossible for her to feel toward me either love or
hate. She has given me unmistakable proof of this--partly by constantly
scolding, railing, and mocking at me, partly by the kindest and most
brotherly friendship--such as one only shows