She had shut her eyes. She made not the slightest effort to open them again, she had not the least desire to know where she was, or with whom she was.... Who was it, after all?... Richard?... No.... Was she falling asleep, then?... She was there with Emil.... With whom?... But who was this Emil?... How hard it was to be clear as to who it was!... The breath upon her eyelids was the breath of the man she had loved when a girl ... and, at the same time, that of the celebrated artist who was soon to give a concert ... and, at the same time, of a man whom she had not seen for thousands and thousands of days ... and, at the same time, of a gentleman with whom she was sitting alone in a restaurant, and who, at that moment, could do with her just as he pleased.... She felt his kiss upon her eyes.... How tender he was ... and how handsome.... But what did he really look like, then?... She had only to open her eyes to be able to see him quite plainly.... But she preferred to imagine what he was like, without actually seeing him.... No, how funny--why, that was not in the least like his face!... Of course, it was the face of the young waiter, who had left the room a minute or two before.... But what did Emil look like, after all?... Like this?... No, no, of course, that was Richard's face.... But away ... away.... Was she then so low as to think of nothing but other men while she ... was with him?... If she could only open her eyes!... Ah! She shook herself violently, so that she almost pushed Emil away--and then she tore her eyes wide open. Emil gazed at her, smiling. "Do you love me?" he asked. She drew him towards her and kissed him of her own accord.... It was the first time that day that she had given him a kiss of her own accord, and in doing so she felt that she was not acting in accordance with her resolve of the morning.... She tried to think what that resolve had been.... To compromise herself in no way; to deny herself.... Yes, there had certainly been a time when that had been her wish, but why? She was in love with him, really and truly; and the moment had arrived which she had been awaiting for days.... No, for years! Still their lips remained pressed together.... Ah, she longed to feel his arms about her ... to be his, body and soul. She would not let him talk any more ... he would have to take her unto himself.... He would have to realize that no other woman could love him so well as she did.... Emil rose to his feet and paced up and down the little room a few times. Bertha raised her glass of champagne to her lips again. "No more, Bertha," said Emil, in a low tone. Yes, he was right, she thought. What was she really doing? Was she going to make herself drunk, then? Was there any need for that? After all, she was accountable to no one, she was free, she was young; she was determined to taste of happiness at last. "Ought we not to be thinking of going?" said Emil.