He stepped into a restaurant, hurriedly took a little food, and hastened to get out into the street again. He felt better out in the cold air than anywhere else; he sauntered slowly along, like a promenader in the most beautiful spring weather, baring his head to the storm and letting the flakes of snow fall upon his hair and forehead, so that the people whom he met turned to look after him. As he had a long time to wait before the appointed hour would arrive, he wandered through the town, and at last, by roundabout ways, came back once more to his atelier. Fridolin reported that Miss Julie had been there twice in person, and the second time had written something. The lieutenant and the other gentlemen had also been there to see him, and the baron made him take him to the grave and tell him the whole story. Herr Rosenbusch was the only one who had not yet appeared, and Fraeulein Angelica had only shown herself a moment, just to water her flowers, and had gone away again. However, he had made a fire in the studio, and it was warm in among the saints also, although the assistants had taken a holiday on their own account. Had the professor--for so he obstinately persisted in calling Jansen--any further orders to give? Jansen shook his head and entered his workshop. He found Julie's note. She begged him, in Italian, which they had been studying together for some months, to release her from the agonizing uncertainty in regard to his mood and in regard to what he intended to do. She was only going out to make a visit to Irene, and then she would stay at home and expect him. The note closed with a few loving words and another earnest request for him to come to her that evening, all of which did him unspeakable good. But he remained firm in his determination not to go to her until he had cleared up the whole matter. He sat down on the sofa and had just begun to draw up a small table, in order to write her a few comforting lines, when a quick knock on the door interrupted him. He was startled to see Frances's nurse come in. This little woman, who had a houseful of children and a head full of cares, seldom visited him--and never without her little charge. Her black eyes, usually so cheery, began to spy anxiously about in every corner of the studio, the moment she had entered it. "Is your child here?" she stammered breathlessly. "With me? No. What made you think so?" He stepped up to her hastily. "What is the matter, my good woman? Did you send little Frances here?" "Not here! Oh! Heavens!--but perhaps she may be up-stairs with Fraeulein Angelica--without your knowing about it. I will go right up--" "Fraeulein Angelica is not up-stairs; I am all alone in the house. Tell me, for God's sake--" He stopped suddenly; a horrible suspicion paralyzed his tongue. The exhausted woman sank down on the pedestal of the great group, and wiped her eyes. "The child--?" he asked at length, with great difficulty.