He interrupted her ardently. “Do I remember? Yes, a year and a half ago! I took you for an Italian. I bought a pink and put it in my button-hole.--I still have it--I am taking it with me to Amsterdam.--What a heat: how hot and dusty it was on the meadow!” “Yes, you bought me a glass of lemonade from the next booth. I remember it like yesterday. Everything smelled of fatty-cakes and people.” “But it was fine! We knew right away how we felt--about each other!” “You wanted to take me on the carroussel, but I couldn’t go; I had to be in the shop. The old woman would have scolded.” “No, I know it wouldn’t have done, Anna.” She said softly and clearly, “But that is the only thing I’ve refused you.” He kissed her again, on the lips and the eyes. “Adieu, darling little Anna. We must begin to say good-bye.” “Oh, you will come back to-morrow?” “Yes, of course, and day after to-morrow early, if I can get away.--But there is one thing I want to say to you, Anna. I am going, after all, rather far away. Amsterdam _is_ a long way off--and you are staying here. But--don’t throw yourself away, I tell you.” She wept into her apron, holding it up with her free hand to her face. “And you--and you?” “God knows, Anna, what will happen. One isn’t young for ever--you are a sensible girl, you have never said anything about marriage and that sort of thing--” “God forbid--that I should ask such a thing of you!” “One is carried along--you see. If I live, I shall take over the business, and make a good match--you see, I am open with you at parting, Anna. I wish you every happiness, darling, darling little Anna. But don’t throw yourself away, do you hear? For you haven’t done that--with me--I swear it.” It was warm in the shop. A moist scent of earth and flowers was in the air. Outside, the winter sun was hurrying to its repose, and a pure delicate sunset, like one painted on porcelain, beautified the sky across the river. People hurried past the window, their chins tucked into their turned-up collars; no one gave a glance into the corner of the little flower-shop, at the two who stood there saying their last farewells. PART FOUR CHAPTER I April 30, 1846 MY DEAR MAMMA, A thousand thanks for your letter, in which you tell me of Armgard von Schilling’s betrothal to Herr von Maiboom of Pöppenrade. Armgard herself sent me an invitation (very fine, with a gilt edge), and also a letter in which she expresses herself as enchanted with her bridegroom. He sounds like a very handsome and refined man. How happy she must be! Everybody is getting married. I have had a card from Munich too, from Eva Ewers. I hear she’s getting a director of a brewery.