ve me, Karl? Ah, tell me that you love me."

"Yes."

"And you will paint me again? If not to-day, perhaps to-morrow?"

"Perhaps, but I am very busy."

He turned from her and sat on the couch again. Mimi's mood suddenly
turned to anger, and she cried out at him furiously:

"I know that you do not love me, and I know why. You are going to be
married.

"Yes, yes," as Karl made an impatient gesture; "I know it is true."

"You are very silly, Mimi," he said.

"Ah, no; I am not. It is true what I have said. I have heard all about
it, but I did not believe it, because I was a fool. You are going to
marry Ma'm'selle Elsa Berg, who is said to be very beautiful and who
will be a great heiress; and then you will forget me, as you would be
glad to do now."

"Where in the devil have you heard all of this?" Karl demanded,
springing angrily to his feet.

"It does not matter; you cannot deny that it is true."

Then her mood changed swiftly to contrition, and she went close to Karl.

"But forgive me; I know it must be. I have always known, and I must have
annoyed you. We models are always annoying--in our street clothes.
Forgive me, Karl."

She looked appealingly at Karl, and he was moved.

"Never mind, Mimi; run along home, now, and I promise to paint you
again, perhaps to-morrow, perhaps the next day."

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then she fled from
the room. Karl flung himself down on the couch again and hid his face
with his arms.

CHAPTER II

Olga's dream journey had been through the flowering orchard of girlhood,
hand in hand with Karl, and she awoke with a sense of regret that the
realities of everyday life should take the place of such joyous visions.
She felt strangely elated during the day, and eagerly waited for the
hour when Herman was to call for her and take her to Karl's studio.

"I wonder what it will be like there?" she asked herself a dozen times.
"I think I have always been jealous of that studio and its
possibilities, and I have always wanted to go there--but I did not
dare."

Then she chided herself for the thought she had not uttered.

"Why, I am a goose! What am I confessing here to myself? That I am in
love with Karl? What silly nonsense. Come, Olga, you are getting
romantic."

Herman came after luncheon and they drove together to the studio
building. Old Heinrich admitted them, his eyes growing big and round at
the imposing splendor of Herman's greatcoat