ould see him; the
last chance she would have of telling him just what she thought of him.
And viewed in that light, it seemed ridiculous to let any artificial
delicacy of feeling stand in her way. She blew her nose vigorously,
and, not being used to indecision, turned as she did so, and began to
ascend the stairs again. Brushing past Frau Krause, she reopened,
without knocking, the door of Maurice's room.

He had moved the lamp from the table to the bureau, and at her entrance
was bending over something that lay there, so engrossed that he did not
at once raise his head.

"Good gracious! What are you doing?" escaped her involuntarily.

At this, he spun round, and, leaning back against the writingtable,
tried to screen it from her eyes.

She regretted her impulsive curiosity, and did not press him. "Yes,
it's me again," she said with determination. "And I suppose you'll want
to accuse me of prying, too, like that female outside.--Look here: it's
ludicrous for us who have been friends so long to part in this fashion.
And I, for one, don't intend to do it. There's something I want to say
before I go--you may be angry and offended if you like; I don't
care"--for he frowned forbiddingly. "I'm no denser than other people;
and I know just as well as every one else the wretched mess you've got
yourself into--one would have to be blind and deaf, indeed, not to
know.--Now, look here, Maurice! You once said to me, you may remember,
that if you had a sister you'd like her to be something like me. Will
you look on me as that sister for a little, and let me give you some
sound advice? I told you I was going to Paris, and that I had a clear
month there. Well, now, throw your things together and come with me.
You haven't had a decent holiday since you've been here. You need
freshening up.--Or if not Paris--Paris isn't a necessity--we'll go down
by Munich and the Brenner to Italy, and I'll be cicerone. I'll act as
banker, too, and you can regard it as a loan in the meantime, and pay
me back when you're richer.--Now what do you say? Doesn't the plan
tempt you?"

"What I say?" he echoed, and looked round him a little helplessly.
"Why, Madeleine ... It seems you are determined to run off with me.
Once it was America, and now it's Italy or Paris."

"Come, say you'll consent, or at least consider it."

"My dear Madeleine! You're all that is good and kind. But you know
you're only talking nonsense."

She did not answer him at once.