I must be mad,
crazy! Barwig, Barwig, pull yourself together, for God's sake; or you
lose her again." One, two, three; one, two, three seemed to be the
only safe ground for him to tread on!

Helene felt that he was not following the music, for her fingers
strayed idly over the keys, playing snatches of different melodies, a
fact which he apparently did not notice.

"The necklace is over there," she said.

"Yes, yes," he gasped, going in the direction she pointed. "One, two,
three; one, two, three. It is beautiful; beautiful!" He scarcely
looked at it.

"Did you ever see my dolls? I don't think I ever showed them to you.
They're over there in the cabinet."

"Your dolls? Yes, I look at them!" he said. He was glad of an
opportunity to escape observation. After a while his mind became calm
enough for him to be able to realise what he was thinking, and the
urgent necessity for him to conceal from her his mad folly. Nineteen
to-day, born in Leipsic, the daughter of the rich millionaire; yet, on
the other hand, the image of his own lost Helene, born on the same day,
at the same place and bearing the same name. It was all so consistent
and yet so contradictory! What could it mean? Was it a phantasy of
his brain, a dream? It seemed to him that he had once witnessed just
such a scene as was taking place at that moment. Surely it had
occurred before! He was now picking up first one doll, then another,
but he did not see them----

"One, two, three; one, two, three;" he said pathetically, trying to
control his thoughts. He realised that he was counting "up in the
air," so to speak, but he was afraid of betraying himself. "If she
suspected that I dared to think that she was my own Helene, she'd turn
me from the house," he thought.

"I've kept all these old dolls since I was a little baby; even my
little German doll is there," said Helene as she played on.

Von Barwig took up the dolls, one by one. "Your German doll?" he
repeated.

"Yes, the one I had in Leipsic. It's a queer little sawdust affair,
but I love it to pieces. It always reminds me of my mother. Do you
know what I am playing?" but Von Barwig did not hear her.

"The little German doll," he repeated. "The one she had in Leipsic."

"I heard this at your house the night we first met," went on Helene,
playing dreamily. "It's a beautiful melody; it has so much sentiment
in it, so much pathos, but oh, isn't it sad," and she sighed deeply.