y.
"Come, there is my hand; shake hands, and I promise you now that there
never shall be a word again between us of what you are not willing to
hear."

CHAPTER II.

She was just about to lay her round, white little hand in his, which
was rough and muddy from kneading the clay, when a knock at the door
caused them both to look up and listen.

The janitor called out through the key-hole that a strange gentleman
wished to speak with Herr Jansen. When he heard that the sculptor had a
model sitting to him at the moment, he had asked the janitor to take in
his card. With this the janitor pushed the card through a narrow hole
in the door made for the purpose.

The sculptor, grumbling, went toward the threshold and picked up the
card. "Felix, Freiherr von Weiblingen." He shook his head thoughtfully.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of joy. Under the printed name was
written, with a pencil, "Icarus."

"A good friend of yours?" queried the girl.

He made no answer, but threw down his modeling-tool hastily, hurriedly
wiped his hands on a towel, and hastened to the door again. As he
opened it, he turned around.

"Stay here, Zenz," he said. "Amuse yourself for a while; there is a
book of pictures; and, if you should be hungry, you will find something
in the cupboard. I will lock the door behind me."

In the hall outside there was no one but the janitor, with his bent,
long-shaped head, that looked very much like the head of a horse,
especially when he spoke; then he moved his under-jaw, as though he had
a bit between his great, yellow teeth.

He was a most serviceable old fellow, who had grown gray in the service
of art, and had a more delicate judgment than many a professor. He was
a thorough expert in preparing a canvas; and occupied his leisure in
studying the chemistry of colors.

"Where are the gentlemen, Fridolin?" asked the sculptor.

"There is only one. He is walking in the yard. A very handsome young
gentleman. You can see in his face the look of the 'Baron' that is on
his card. He said--"

But the sculptor had hurried by him, and had rushed down the steps that
led into the yard. "Felix!" he cried, "is it you or your ghost?"

"I am inclined to think it is both, and a heart in addition," replied
the person addressed, grasping the hand that the sculptor held out to
him. "Come, old fellow, I can't see why we should be ashamed to fall on
each other's necks, here under God