About the same hour Lorinser was sitting on the little leather sofa in Christiane's room, with his knees half drawn up on the seat, and his long arms stretched along the back, like a person who is making himself comfortable, because he does not intend to go very soon. Although it was already so dark that faces could scarcely be distinguished, no lamp stood on the little table. But from one of the windows in the front of the house gleamed a faint light, which frequently moved and fell upon the pale face of the man on the sofa, revealing the expression of eager expectation stamped upon the strongly marked features. Whenever the light flitted over Lorinser's countenance, the strange smile appeared on the mobile lips, and he lowered the eyes, which so long as it remained dark, followed every movement of the woman who, with her arms folded across her breast as usual, was pacing up and down the room.

Suddenly she paused at the window, opened it a moment gasping for breath, and then turned toward the silent man on the sofa.

"How people forget the flight of time when they are talking," she said. "I see it has grown dark. Excuse me, Herr Candidat, my hours are so regularly apportioned--"

"You wish to send me away, FrÄulein Christiane," he said making no preparation to move from his comfortable position. "I have really forgotten the true cause of my visit, in your musical revelations, which have afforded me a glimpse of depths hitherto unsuspected. So what answer can I give the baroness?"

"Is any positive answer required?" she said. "Why should I have told you how I prize music, except to explain that I will never become a drawing room teacher, that I would rather starve than share in the universal sin of the jingling, bungling profanation of what I hold sacred?"

"And yet you do not disdain to give lessons to a soubrette?"

"How do you know?"

"Because--well, because I've enquired about you. I must be able to answer for a person whom I recommend to houses like that of the baroness."

"Very well. I will tell you why I take this frivolous creature; from a motive which will be perfectly obvious to you, as you too are interested in home missions:--to save a soul."

"You want to transform this stage princess, who has already passed through so many hands, into a saint? You're jesting."

Christiane laughed, a short, hollow laugh, utterly destitute of mirth.

"What do you take me for?" she asked. "To make a person something which I myself neither am nor desire to be! And what has her mode of life to do with me? I'm willing to allow everybody to be happy in their own way. What I call saving her soul, is giving her an idea of true music. The girl has the most enviable talents, voice, ear, passion, the genuine, the natural musical sympathy, which in all such compositions instantly opens to her the real meaning of the author or the part, so that she not only repeats the notes, but reproduces the whole meaning to the life. This is rare, even among those who consider themselves great artists, and are paid as such. And that's why this stage princess as you choose to call her, is too high for Offenbach, and, indeed, perfectly capable of interpreting Mozart and the other great masters."

"And if you succeed, do you really believe that this rescued soul will be made any happier?"

"Who can tell? I merely do what lies in my power. Happy! If music alone could give happiness, few would possess such joy as mine. But it's only a substitute, perhaps the most powerful and noble, but not the real thing, not happiness itself. Of that I'm perfectly sure; I've had time to experience it."

"And what do you consider real happiness?"

She was silent a moment, not as if it were difficult to answer, but as if considering whether she owed the questioner any reply.

Then in a tone of cold resignation she said suddenly:

"Real happiness? I only know because I have never tasted it. Real happiness can be nothing but to sacrifice ourselves without losing ourselves, because we find ourselves again in something better than we are; to forget self in another, without fear of being ashamed of it, because that other at the same moment is thinking only of what we ourselves forget. You'll not understand me, and no matter if you don't. I'll light the lamp."

"You speak of love," he said quietly. "I understand you, because the same happiness you hope to find in earthly love, opens before us children of God in the bliss of eternity. Did I not tell you just now, that you must forget yourself to find yourself again in God, that there was no other redemption? Now you come to meet me half way."

"But I shall never be able to traverse the other half," she said bitterly. "Pray don't let us recur to that conversation. Once more--it's late. I've work to do."

Still he did not move from his crouching position on the sofa.

"Don't be narrow-minded," he said quietly. "It doesn't suit you. You have a larger nature than ordinary women; what's the use of these half allusions, this shame-faced, prudish reserve, where the point in question is the happiness of your life? If I could only really help you?"

"You? No one can help me."

"Except God, and he who leads you to Him."

"I do not understand you. Have I not told you plainly enough, that I feel no longing for your God and his pardoning grace? All I can do for him, is not to hate him; though he has placed me in this world as I am."

"As you are? And how are you?"

"You've just said it yourself: I'm no ordinary woman. I don't know what could be more sad for a girl. And really: ever since the tale of a dear God became improbable, ever since it dawned upon me that we poor human animals only move about in the great throng of creation and have no more claim to any special tenderness, than the thistles in the field, which the donkey gnaws, or the donkey that the miller's boy cudgels, I've become somewhat calmer. No one is to blame because I'm a joyless, ugly, lonely woman, with a man's face, except perhaps my parents, who died long ago and couldn't atone for it; the good people certainly did not know what they were doing, when they gave me life."

She poured forth these words in harsh, scornful tones, as one relates something that has long angered one, busying herself, while so doing, in lighting the little lamp with the green shade which she now placed on the table.

"I think you've heard enough," she added dryly. "You're now convinced, Herr Candidat, that such a mangy sheep would make a poor figure among the gentle flock you lead to pasture, so I beg you in the future not to trouble yourself about my temporal and eternal welfare."

"Certainly I have heard enough," answered Lorinser opening his eyes so suddenly upon her, that the metallic lustre of the whites, subdued by the green lamp light, seemed ghostly, "though you have really told me nothing more, than I knew at the first glance. You're mistaken if you think such confessions are new to me or repel me. They always proceed from an exceptionally powerful nature, and grace can work only where there is strength. Gentle, unselfish souls have nothing to oppose and so nothing to gain. But since I have fully understood your nature, it would be of great value if you would trust me sufficiently to disclose the external circumstances among which you have become--no, have remained, what you were from the beginning; I mean, your history, the events of your life."

"My history?"--she laughed. "I have none, or what I have has already been told you. My face is my history, my heavy eye-brows and the shadow on my upper lip are my destiny. My father happened to look as I do, and was considered a stately, interesting man. But I should have been wiser to choose the face of my mother, who was by no means filmed for her beauty, but must have been exactly what I am not, a thorough woman. At least she made all sorts of innocent conquests. I, on the contrary, though I was neither stupid nor had unwomanly manners--I mean when I was a young girl; for I now go about boldly, like an old student--although my talents early attracted attention among my father's colleagues--he was one of the court musicians,--never made a conquest in all my life. That is, I might have married two or three times; but it was for very different reasons than love. One wanted to give concerts with me, another, who was an elderly man and tired of his bachelor life, needed a housekeeper, and that she should be ill-favored he rather preferred than otherwise. He thought he would be all the more sure of her faithfulness and self-sacrificing gratitude, in return for his making her a married woman. The third--but why should I tell you these disgusting tales, which at first deeply humiliated me. And though I might have learned from them what my mirror had not then taught me, I was mad enough always to select as the objects of my secret adoration, the handsomest, most agreeable, and most admired men, who never cast a glance at me. I had artist's blood in my veins, I could not help being filled with enthusiasm about everything that was lovable, charming, and distinguished, even if my heart should burst in consequence. But now I have reached my thirty-fourth year; youth with its foolish desires for love-sorrows, yearnings, anxieties, and honey that turns to gall, may well have raved itself calm. Do you wish to know more of my story? I am very sorry; but unfortunately I have nothing to tell of love adventures, broken vows, wanderings from the path of virtue. Unfortunately, I say. They would have made a change in the dreary grey of my days and years, a few blood red spots, a stain effaced with thousands of tears. Instead of that, I'm an old maid in the fullest sense of the word, and your 'magic of sin' has no power over my beggarly pride. Can you even imagine a bright, interesting, exciting romance with such a frontispiece?"--She suddenly removed the green shade and raised the little lamp to her face, which she turned full upon him in the bright glare.

"That's a matter of taste," he replied without the slightest change of countenance. "For instance, I for my part have always preferred faces full of character to smooth, meaningless ones, which might nevertheless be considered very charming, pretty, and attractive. Superficial sweetness nauseates me. To feel strength, bitterness, even icy scorn and hatred melt in the glow of passion, always seemed to me more desirable than the sentimental fusion of two harmonious souls. The woman who is to attract me, must have something of the devil in her. Put down the lamp FrÄulein Christiane. It is illuminating charms which under some circumstances might become dangerous, and as I am at present entirely indifferent to you--"

At this moment the bell was violently pulled.

"Thanks for the interruption," said Christiane in a subdued tone, that the person outside might not hear; "I should have given you an answer, which perhaps would have seemed altogether too unwomanly. Now I shall dismiss you without ceremony, and indeed--"

The bell rang again. Lorinser had put his feet on the floor, but did not seem inclined to leave his corner.

She looked at him with a glance of indescribable astonishment and anger, then took the lamp and went into the ante-room to open the door.

Mohr was standing outside; his face was deeply flushed, and his eyes, as soon as the door opened, strove with a keen, intent gaze, to pierce the darkness within; but his manner was perfectly unembarrassed, almost formal.

"I beg a thousand pardons, FrÄulein," he said, "for having knocked at your door a second time at so unseasonable an hour, but if I violate ceremony, to an artist my errand will plead my excuse. I only beg fifteen minutes conversation;--Have you a visitor?" he continued, as he suddenly perceived the figure of a man in the adjoining room. "So much the better, that will prevent all thought of indecorum. Will you allow me to enter? There's a disagreeable draught on these stairs. Or shall I interrupt you?"

"Not in the least," replied Christiane, with a very gloomy expression, as she slightly bent her head. "To be sure I've not the honor of your acquaintance--"

"As a friend of your fellow lodgers up stairs, I thought I had a sort of right to introduce myself to you. A short time ago, in a merry mood, I made an unsuccessful attempt to do so, though my friend Edwin tried to prevent me. You cannot have condemned it so severely as I did myself, so soon as I came to my senses."

"I have no recollection, sir--"

"So much the better. It was quite dark in the entry. Today, by the lamp light, permit me to introduce myself to you: plain Heinrich Mohr; I scorned to buy a doctor's title. A man usually who has nothing to make him must have some distinction."

"Will you be kind enough to inform me--"

She was still standing in the ante-room with the lamp in her hand, as if she wished to get rid of him as quickly as possible, while he from time to time cast eager glances into the sitting room.

"I will come to the point at once," said he leaning against a chest of drawers which stood near the door. "What I have to propose, is no secret and requires no privacy. Unfortunately, it is tolerably well known to all who are aware of my existence--but will you not sit down, Fraulein? To stand so--" He made a movement toward the door of the sitting room.

"Thank you. I'm not tired."

"Nor I. So to proceed: I'm unfortunately endowed with all sorts of mediocre talents. One would be enough to make a man who is no fool, but possesses a critical judgment, thoroughly unhappy. In the arts bungling even is worse than in medicine. What does it matter if a few men die more or less? But to corrupt or lower the standard of art, is a sin against the divinity of genius. Don't you think so too, Fraulein?"

She looked at him intently, without opening her lips.

"But," he continued, "there's a false modesty too. Many a great man would never have believed in his own talents, if kind friends had not discovered them. Other gifts are, as it were, trampled under foot in the crowd, through malice and envy--men are very envious, Fraulein, Germans especially. I allude of course to the common envy of trade, which is no more allied to the ideal, high-souled envy, than a toad-stool is to a truffle--in short it's not easy for every man to know what's in him. My eyes have gradually been opened to the fact that my talent for rhyming amounts to nothing. But music, music! I play the piano very poorly and my voice is like a raven's; but in regard to the gift of composition, it always seems to me that I can compare very favorably with the shallow composers of waltzes, or writers of street songs. As for yourself, FrÄulein--pardon me for having listened to your playing; you confided your musical confessions to the quiet courtyard--I--I have the deepest reverence for your talent--for--how shall I express it?--for the strong nature expressed in your style of playing. Now you see--I have just finished--for a long time I have been engaged on a great composition, which I have sometimes called--it's only a fancy, or rather a bad joke--my sinfonia ironica. You understand: so far, none of it has been written out, but in my head everything is as good as ready for the press--except the instrumentation. Musicians to whom I've now and then played parts of it, have usually been bigoted adherents of some particular school. I must confess that I gave none of them credit for really entering into the spirit of the work. With you the case is wholly different. I would wager, that if you would only give me an hour--"

"Sir," she interrupted, "you over-estimate my knowledge and judgment. I sincerely regret--"

"Pray do me the favor, FrÄulein, not to condemn me unheard. I ask nothing more than that you will listen to the first few bars, where the irony is still in the stage of oppression and grief--C. minor, which afterwards changes into F.--"

"I've never been able to understand the so-called language of music," she answered curtly. "So it would be better--"

"Do you dislike the title? Very well! I'll give it up. It shall merely be absolute music, like any other. I'll submit to hear Wagner all the days of my life, intensified one day in the week by Offenbach, if the first bars do not prove that the rest is at least worth hearing. You must allow me to play the introduction on your piano--"

He did not wait for her permission, but hastily entered the sitting room, so that there was nothing left her but to follow with the lamp.

Lorinser was still sitting in the sofa corner. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling and he seemed so lost in thought that he did not notice the new comers.

Christiane set the lamp heavily on the table, as if she wished to rouse him by the rattling of the shade.

"Allow me to introduce you to each other, gentlemen," she said coldly. "Herr--what is your name?"

"Heinrich Mohr, FrÄulein. A name hitherto very obscure, but which you will perhaps help to some moderate distinction. But an introduction is scarcely necessary. I already have the honor of knowing that gentleman."

Lorinser fixed his piercing eyes on the other's face and then carelessly replied: "I didn't know I had the pleasure of your acquaintance before."

"That's a matter of course," replied Mohr, approaching the little table and raising the shade from the lamp. "The acquaintance has hitherto been entirely on my side. Besides, with the exception of a casual meeting in the entry, it's still very recent; it dates from last night."

Lorinser rose. He seemed to find the full glare of the lamp objectionable.

"Last night," said he. "You must be mistaken."

"My dear sir," replied Mohr with eager courtesy, "he who possesses so marked a face as yours, may be certain that no one will ever mistake his physiognomy, though to be sure, I only saw it for about five minutes through a window on the ground floor."

"Sir, allow me--"

"But I'll take my oath before a magistrate, that it was you whom I saw in very lively society--it was a house in KÖnig's stadt--you'll recollect. You must know, Fraulein, that I'm still poet enough to prefer night to day. I usually wander aimlessly about the streets till after midnight; to be sure one doesn't always see the brightest side of men, but if you wish to know them thoroughly--and they are so incautious! They fancy if the curtains are down, they can show their weaknesses great and small in secret. As if there were not chinks and cracks in blinds and curtains, and one tiny insignificant little hole was not enough to afford a view of a whole room, as a single word often gives a glimpse of the inmost depths of hypocritical souls."

"An extremely poetical fancy, to peep through curtains," Lorinser remarked, seizing his hat. "Unfortunately this time you've made a mistake in the person, as I could prove, if it were worth while to take the trouble, or the lady could by any possibility be interested in it. Meantime, as you are about to occupy yourselves with musical exercises my presence is superfluous--"

He bowed to Christiane and walked toward the door.

She turned to Mohr, who was watching Lorinser with a mischievous glance.

"I must request you to excuse me to-day," said she. "If your ironical symphony is anything more than a jest--you will always find me at home in the morning, between twelve and one o'clock."

Mohr did not make the slightest attempt to request a short respite for himself and his composition. The musical object of his visit seemed to have entirely escaped his attention, for his eyes were sparkling with delight at the thought of having driven Lorinser from his sofa corner. He took a cordial but respectful leave of Christiane, and followed the Herr Candidat, who silently walked out into the entry.

On the stairs they passed; Lorinser seemed to wish to give Mohr the precedence. "Pray go on," said Mohr in the most cordial tone, "I'm perfectly at home here. But perhaps you may prefer not to come up these steep stairs too often. You might get hurt. The house where I saw you yesterday is better lighted at any rate."

Lorinser half turned and said in a tone of suppressed fury: "You're very much mistaken, sir, if you expect to intimidate me by such paltry expedients. I deny having any knowledge of the place where you pretend to have seen me; but I suspect from the tone you assume, that the company was by no means the best. Well I confess, that for a man who, in a lady's presence, denounces another and tries to represent him as a person who visits bad houses--for such a spiteful and slanderous spy, I repeat I've no feeling but profound contempt."

"Thank you," replied Mohr dryly. "If you had assured me of your esteem, I should have taken it more to heart. Besides, my worthy friend in the dark, I shall throw a little light on your path, should you show any disposition to continue your visits to this lady, whom you already know quite too well; I should be forced to speak still more plainly. I don't see why I am to withhold my information against an individual of your stamp, who visits workmen's societies for the purpose of denouncing to the police any speaker that may not happen to suit him. I have the honor to wish you a good night."

He raised his hat with mock respect and pointed out the path across the courtyard, but did not follow, until the stealthy steps of Lorinser, who in helpless rage could only exclaim, "we shall meet again," had died away in the hall leading through the front of the house. Then he looked up at Christiane's lighted windows. "This time at least I did no half way work!" he said in a well satisfied tone. "She will thank me for it some day. That singular woman is a whole-hearted creature."

If he could only have seen what the object or his adoration was doing in her lonely room! After the two men went out, she had hastily, as if to re-consecrate a sanctuary that had been profaned by evil spirits, taken from her bureau a small carved frame containing a photograph, and placed it like an altar picture on the table, so that it was brightly illumined by the lamp. Then she drew up a chair, sat down before it, and gazed at it in silent devotion. But her stooping posture becoming uncomfortable at last, she glided down from the chair upon the floor, and knelt, with her chin resting on the table and her eyes fixed with enthusiastic fervor on the little card. The pictured face gazed quietly into vacancy seeming to deprecate homage, and it bore the familiar features of--our Edwin.