I took pains to keep Floyd from any knowledge of my sudden poverty, because, especially should it ever chance to leak out that his estate was a present from me, I knew well enough what his generous heart would prompt him to do. So I let him sail for the New World without seeing me again. He remained on that side of the Atlantic; and after writing me one letter, which, upon reflection, I thought it best not to answer, we became lost to each other, so far as any communication was concerned. Nevertheless, I always thought of him as my dear and only friend, and I never doubted that I was as dear to him as he to me. I may as well add, lest I should acquire a reputation for generosity which I was far from deserving, that my changed fortunes troubled me very little. In fact, I rather enjoyed the new order of things. I had always fancied I could paint pictures, and cherished a secret ambition to live by my brush. Here, then, was my opportunity. I went on the Continent; became a student of the Quartier Latin in Paris; wandered thence to Italy; and so, after several years of careless Bohemian existence, I found myself at length in Dresden. I hired part of a small third _étage_ on the Bautznerstrasse, set up my easel, and divided my time between that, the Gallery, and the music gardens. For six months all went well; then happened the event whereof I am now to write, and which threatened to upset my plans, my ambition, my self-respect and my peace of mind. And now, my digressions having run themselves out, I can no longer put off recounting the mortifying particulars. Really, now I am in for it, there seems to be next to nothing to tell. I had left my rooms, as usual, about half-past two in the afternoon, and passing through the Neustadt, I crossed the old bridge, and entered the Altstadt by way of the Georgen Thor. At the window of the Porzellan-Fabrik I stopped to look at a beautiful painted vase which was on exhibition within. While I was standing there, a lady and gentleman passed, and the lady, catching sight of the vase, made her companion pause while she examined it. I knew that this was occurring, though I did not turn my head to look. But as I was about to withdraw, I happened to see the dim reflection of the lady's face in the broad pane of the window. It struck me as being a face with which I was familiar. I turned, startled and by no means pleased, and gazed straight at her. The suddenness of my movement attracted her attention, and she returned my look for a moment. Did I know her! I turned red, pulled off my hat, and made my awkward obeisance. All I got in return for it was a half-puzzled, half-repellent glance of non-recognition. She was right, of course; I did not know her, after all. I must have been of a fine crimson by this time! But stop--could I be mistaken? Did I not know her?... Yes!--No!...