She understood, but was not altogether satisfied. She looked up. She was now able to see the outlines of the picture which was hanging above the piano.... It was a naked female figure. Bertha had a curious desire to examine the picture, close at hand. "What is that?" she asked. "It is not a work of art," said Emil. He struck a match and held it up, so as to throw the light on the picture. Bertha saw that it was merely a wretched daub, but at the same time she felt that the painted woman, with the bold laughing eyes, was looking down at her, and she was glad when the match went out. "You might just play something to me upon the piano," said Emil. She wondered at the coldness of his demeanour. Didn't he realize that she was with him?... But, on the other hand, did she herself feel any special emotion?... No.... A strange sadness seemed to come welling forth from every corner of the room.... Why hadn't he rather taken her to his own house?... What sort of a house was this, she wondered.... She regretted now that she had not drunk more wine.... She wished that she was not so sober.... "Well, won't you play something to me?" said Emil. "Just think how long it is since I have heard you." She sat down and struck a chord. "Indeed, I have forgotten everything." "Oh, do try!" She played very softly Schumann's Albumblatt, and she remembered how, a few days before, late in the evening, she had improvised as she was sitting at home, and Klingemann had walked up and down in front of the window. She could not help thinking also of the report that he had a scandalous picture in his room. And involuntarily, she glanced up again at the picture of the naked woman over the piano, but now the figure seemed to be gazing into space. Emil had brought a chair beside Bertha's. He drew her towards him and kissed her while her fingers first continued to play, and at length rested quietly upon the keys. Bertha heard the rain beating against the window-panes and a sensation as of being at home came over her. Then she felt as though Emil was lifting her up and carrying her. Without letting her out of his arms he had stood up and was slowly bearing her out of the room. She felt her right arm graze against the curtain.... She kept her eyes closed; she could feel Emil's cool breath upon her hair.... VIII When they went out into the street the rain had left off, but the air was permeated with a wondrous mildness and humidity. Most of the street lamps had already been extinguished; the one at the street corner was the nearest that was alight; and, as the sky was still overcast with clouds, deep darkness hung over the city. Emil had offered Bertha his arm; they walked in silence. From a church tower a clock struck--one. Bertha was surprised. She had believed that it must be nearly morning, but now she was glad at heart to wander mutely through the night in the still, soft air, leaning on his arm--because she loved him very much.