red, nothing would
ever matter again. There was not the least need for the half-jesting
tone in which Maurice clothed his air of authority. She obeyed him
blindly, doing what he bade her without question, glad to be
subordinate to his will. As long as he did not ask her to think, or to
feel, or to stir from her chair beside the stove.

But it was only with regard to small practical things; in matters of
more importance she was not to be moved. And the day came, only too
soon, when the positive help Maurice could give her was at an end; she
did not owe a pfennig to anyone; her letters and accounts were filed
and in order. Then she seemed to elude him again. He did what lay in
his power: brought her books that she did not read, brought news and
scraps of chit-chat, which he thought might interest her and which did
not, and an endless store of sympathy. But to all he said and did, she
made the same response: it did not matter.

Since the night on the river, she had not set foot across the threshold
of her room; nervous fears beset her. Maurice was bent on her going out
into the open air; he also wished her to mix with people again, and
thus rid herself of the morbid fancies that were creeping on her. But
she shrank as he spoke of it, and pressed both hands to her face: it
was too cold, she murmured, and too cheerless; and then the streets!
... the publicity of the streets, the noise, the people! This was what
she said to him; to herself she added: and all the old familiar places,
to each of which a memory was attached! He spent hours in urging her to
take up some regular occupation; it would be her salvation, he
believed, and, not allowing himself to be discouraged, he returned to
the attack, day after day. But she only smiled the thin smile with
which she defeated most of his proposals for her good. Work?--what had
she to do with work? It had never been anything to her but a narcotic,
enabling her to get through those hours of the day in which she was
alone.

She let Maurice talk on, and hardly heard what he said. He meant well,
but he did not understand. No one understood. No one but herself knew
the weight of the burden she had borne since the day when her happiness
was mercilessly destroyed. Now she could not raise a finger to help
herself. On waking, in the morning, she turned with loathing from the
new day. In the semi-darkness of the room, she lay motionless, half
sleeping, or dreaming with open eyes. The clock t