ard the name before. Are you going to-night?"

"Possibly, unless something should happen to prevent. It is a matter
of perfect indifference to me now with what sort of people I mix,
since I--"

He hesitated. His eye glanced involuntarily toward the statuette. Then,
after a pause, he said:

"Listen: all sorts of things have happened since we last met. Don't you
notice any change in me? I thought I must have grown ten years
younger."

Felix looked at him searchingly.

"That could make no one happier than it would me, old Daedalus. And,
since we are on the subject, it has somewhat depressed me to find--I
must out with it--a different man from the friend I left ten years ago.
I always thought it must be my fault that made you so much more
reserved and distant toward me than you used to be. If you would only
be the same old fellow again--but mayn't I know what has brought this
about?"

"Not yet," answered the sculptor, seizing the hand Felix held out to
him, and pressing it with evident emotion. "I haven't got permission
yet, much as the secret burns in my breast. But, take my word for it,
my dear fellow, all will come right now. I tell you miracles and
wonders still happen; a withered staff burgeons and flourishes, and is
filled once more with green sap and white blossoms. The winter was a
little long, and no wonder that even you felt the cold."

A knock on the door interrupted him. They heard the voice of the
battle-painter outside, eagerly demanding admission.

Jansen drew the bolts which, in his disgust, he had fastened behind the
aesthetical professor, and let Rosenbusch in.

"Well!" cried he to his friend, "what do you say to this divine
creature? Hasn't she been making herself agreeable to you too? A woman
of the gods, by my life! How she hits the nail on the head with every
word, draws out the most secret thoughts of the soul, so that one has
only to keep his ears and mouth open, and always nod an affirmative!
There isn't a horseshoe in all my Battle of Luetzen about which she
didn't show a profound knowledge; and if she remains in Munich any
length of time, she says she shall visit me often, so as to watch me at
my work. I am on the only true road, she said; art is action, passion,
excitement--a battle for life and death, and other things of the sort,
which she actually seemed to snatch from my mouth. A devilish smart
woman, and her traveling companion also seems to be a first-rate judge
of art. Of cours