"'I am not sure that you will understand me,' she said. 'But it seems to me as if we were never alone, as if some one else were looking in on our privacy, and even you--it seems as if you saw me and another at the same time. Let us wait awhile. We shall somehow succeed in being alone again.' "The winter and part of the summer passed by. The letter from Paris did not come. Politics were added to my usual occupations, and my head was full of symbols and party programmes. When, now and then, I had time to observe my inner self, I found only one of the two heart-chambers occupied, and that one filled with the most ardent love. The other was as empty and musty as a room which has not been aired or opened to the sun for a long time. On the wall hung a picture whose frame was dusty and whose colors were faded. "I was scarcely surprised that this had happened so quickly. In the strange second courtship in which I was living with my wife, my passionate nature was completely engrossed by distress at our estrangement. But I knew that she was not to be won 'with prayers, and with whinings, and with self-exalting pains.' Perhaps another dream will come to your aid, thought I. The transformation occurred in the daytime, however. "One morning we were sitting at breakfast alone, for the child had a study hour with the pastor. Among the papers which we were looking over was a French one, which a neighbor received and shared with us. I was glancing mechanically down the columns, when my eyes suddenly fastened on a name. "'Look!' said I; 'at length we have the explanation of the missing Parisian letter. Have you read it?' "She looked at me searchingly, but did not reply. "'In court circles they are talking of the betrothal of the Duke of C. to the beautiful Countess Lucile of ----, who, as is well known, enjoys the intimacy of the imperial court, and whose husband met such a sad end three months ago after a great loss in play at Monaco. They say the empress has given the bride a magnificent ornament, and so on. I own,' I added, 'that no news has given me greater pleasure for a long time. Poor Lucile! She certainly deserved imperial reparation for her sorrowful youth.' "My wife still remained silent. Then, rising, she came and threw her arms around me, and kissed me on both cheeks. 'I have known it since yesterday,' she said. 'Will you believe that I was weak enough to fear how you might receive it?' "'Oh, child,' I said, 'you have always seen ghosts. Will you now believe that we are alone?' "From that day there was never a shadow between us. Our happiness, like every other real happiness, was never exhausted. Our motto might have been those beautiful words: "'The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.' "And when the end came--after three short years--the effect was immeasurable, as in all true endings. But of that I cannot speak." He stood up. Just then the clock struck one.