ginning she had borne it all with the
self-assurance that naturally springs from contempt for gossip, only
tended to make her grief all the more bitter.

How hollow any objection on her part would have sounded! How fatuous and
ineffective a rebuke from her would have been! Could she muzzle these
wicked, slanderous tongues by referring to the peculiarities of Daniel's
nature? Could he be expected to go to Philippina and give an account of
himself? A contemptuous smile came to her face when she pondered on such
possibilities.

And yet, why was she heart-sore? Was it because she was at last
beginning to realise that she was unloved?

Involuntarily her eyes fell on the mask; it was still covered with the
withered rose twigs. She got up and removed them. Her hand trembled as
if she were committing some evil act.

"Go home, Philippina, I don't need you any more," she said.

"Oi, it is late, ain't it? I must be going," cried Philippina. "Don't
worry, Gertrude," she said by way of consolation. "And don't complain of
me to your husband; he'll git ugly if you do. If you say anything bad
about me, there's going to be trouble here, I say. I am a perfect fool;
people git out of my way, they do. I've got a wicked mouth, I have;
there's no stopping it. Well, good night."

She rubbed her hands down over her skirt, as if she were trying to
smooth out the wrinkles; there was an element of comic caution in what
she did.

Out on the street she began to hum again:

_Drah' di, Madel, drah' di,
Morgen kommt der Mahdi._

XIV

When Daniel came home, it was late; but he sat down by the lamp in his
room and began to read Jean Paul's "Titan." In the course of time his
thoughts liberated themselves from the book and went their own way. He
got up, walked over to the piano, raised the lid, and struck a chord; he
listened with closed eyes: it seemed that some one was calling him. It
was a sultry night; the stillness was painful.

Again he struck the chord: bells from the lower world. They rang up
through the green, grey mists, each distinct and delicate. Each tone
sent forth its accompanying group like sparks from a skyrocket. Those
related by the ties of harmony joined; those that were alien fell back
and down. And up in the distant, inaccessible heights there rang out
with deceiving clarity, like the last vision of earthly perfection, the
melody of love, the melody of Eleanore.

Yet, some o