Mrs. Lilienfeld was a calm, refined woman of nearly forty, with a look of suffering on her face, yet extremely attractive. She was dressed with tasteful simplicity. One got the impression that her husband worshipped her blindly and was accustomed to act, or to refrain from acting, according to a scarcely perceptible glance from her soft, grave eyes. For all his noisiness the bull-necked man, coarse, brutal, sensual, was like a timid child before her. She devoted herself for a while to Frederick, who felt he had found grace in the lady's eyes and that for some reason she wished to be helpful to him in leading him away from the aberrations of his passion. Had he not had a sense of security in the firmness of his decision, he might perhaps have given more serious attention to her searching questions, which showed that she had done some thinking about him. Her method was far from flattering to Ingigerd. With an infinitely disdainful smile, she called the girl, who was chattering nonsense to a circle of flirtatious reporters and was overwhelmed with their tokens of approval, "a mechanical doll with a light head of porcelain filled with sawdust." "A good plaything," she said, "a plaything for a man, an article of merchandise, but nothing more. She may be worth money, but she is not worth anything else. She is not worth more than any piece of emptiness, any trifle, or knickknack." Ingigerd, moved perhaps by a little wave of jealousy, came up and asked Frederick, without suspecting the significance the question had in his eyes, whether he had packed his things. "Not yet. Why should I pack my things?" "Mr. Lilienfeld," she said, "has made a contract for me for two evenings a week in Boston. You must get ready and go to Boston with me day after to-morrow." "To the ends of the world," said Frederick lightly, "to the ends of the world, dear lady." She was contented, and gave Mrs. Lilienfeld a look of satisfaction. XXII Frederick was greatly relieved when the festivity at Lilienfeld's house was at last a thing of the past. With Willy Snyders' help, he had succeeded in getting together a few effects, and he spent part of the afternoon arranging them. In the evening the artists, who had grown very fond of their guest and were sorry to lose him, gave him a farewell dinner at the round table.