im more and more. Then, too, the
night, the subdued light of the lanterns, and the stirring music, and
his own loneliness of heart, and his seven-and-twenty years--

"Zenz," he whispered, bending over so near to her ear that his lips
almost touched her neck, "if you would only care just a little bit for
me, why shouldn't we fare just as well as if you really were a princess
and I a prince?"

She did not answer. Her lips were parted, she breathed quickly, and her
nostrils quivered, while her eyes were tightly shut, as if it were all
a dream from which she did not wish to wake.

"We could lead a life like that in Paradise," continued he, gently
stroking with his own the two little hands that she had laid side by
side on the table. "We are both of us two stray children for whom no
one cares. If we should stay at home a year and a day, and never let
ourselves be seen, who would inquire what had become of us? All about
us people live and love and think only about themselves! Why should not
we think only of ourselves, too?"

"Go away from me!" answered she, in a low voice. "You are not in
earnest. You think about me? Not even in your dreams. How can you care
for me? Such a red-haired little monkey, as Black Pepi called me
today!"

"Your hair is very pretty. I remember yet how pretty it made you look,
when you let it hang loose over your blue cloak that morning in Herr
Jansen's studio, when you ran away so fast. And now I will hold you
tight by it. Come! I thought we were going? It begins to be cool; at
least, I see that you are trembling."

"Not from cold!" she said, in a strange tone, as she stood up and
wrapped her shawl tightly about her.

Then, without waiting for him to ask her, she took his arm and they
left the garden.

CHAPTER X.

She did not ask where he was leading her, and indeed spoke very little
more, and scarcely betrayed by any sign whether she was listening to
what he said, or was entirely absorbed in her own thoughts. He had
begun by telling her, with a kind of forced liveliness, about all sorts
of things that he thought would interest her; about the women in the
countries on the other side of the ocean, their way of dressing, their
songs and dances, and their ideas about love and men. As she made no
reply to it all, he at last grew silent too. For a moment he felt a
keen pang of pain, when, by the light of a street lamp, he caught sight
of his own shadow and