"That is the name they give to their secret society that meets every four weeks. There must be wild goings on there; at least Rosenbusch, who, as a general thing, cannot easily keep a secret from me, assumes a face like the holy Vehm if I ever begin to speak about it. Oh, these men, Julie, these men! This Maximilian Rosenbusch--I must say that I really think he is by nature good; indeed, between ourselves, my dearest, he would be more interesting to me if he looked a little _less_ moral, did not play on the flute, and were really the terrible scapegrace that he sometimes makes himself out. But there, one infects the other, and the very name of 'Paradise!' One can easily conceive that a pretty antediluvian tone must prevail there, somewhat highly spiced and free and easy." "Do they keep to themselves, or are 'ladies' also present?" "I don't know. As a rule, they appear to amuse themselves in quite a moral manner; but now and then, especially at carnival time, when, for that matter, every one here in Munich carries the freedom of the mask pretty far--" "Does Jansen also belong to the society?" "Of course, he cannot help doing so. But he is said to be one of the quietest among them, according to Rosenbusch. Upon my life, I would just like to peep through the keyhole once! 'Oh, had I a jacket and trousers and hat!'" "Why, Angelica, you have the true woman's-rights ideas!" The painter drew a deep sigh. "Julie," she said, with comical solemnity, "that is just the misfortune of my life, that two souls dwell in this breast--a timid, old-maidish, conservative girl's soul by the side of a very bold, dare-devil, Bohemian artist's temperament. Tell me, did you never in your life experience a strong desire to cut loose for once from propriety--to do something thoroughly reckless, improper, unpermissible? Of course I mean when one was entirely among boon companions, and no one could reprove the other, because all were possessed of the same demon. The men fare well in this respect. When they steal back again into the lost Paradise, they call it a sign of genius. An unfortunate woman, though she were ten times an artist, and as such perpetually inclined not to be a Philistine, must never let it be seen in her manner of life that she can do more than darn stockings!--It is true," she continued, thoughtfully, "as for women in a body, a whole swarm of talented women--no matter how much capacity some among them might have for such a thing--I myself would decline such a Paradise with thanks. Now, why is that? Does it really amount to this, that we cannot exist by ourselves alone; that we can neither plan nor bring about anything successful?"