"Good-bye!" and went off singing. She was furious that they should not have bothered about her any more than that. She had tried to be rid of them: but she had not counted on their going off so easily. Christophe looked rather foolish: this game of hide-and-seek with a girl whom he did not know did not exactly enthrall him: and he had no thought of taking advantage of their solitude. Nor did she think of it: in her annoyance she forgot Christophe. "Oh! It's too much," she said, thumping her hands together. "They have left me." "But," said Christophe, "you wanted them to." "Not at all." "You ran away." "If I ran away from them that is my affair, not theirs. They ought to look for me. What if I were lost?..." Already she was beginning to be sorry for herself because if what might have happened if ... if the opposite of what actually had occurred had come about. "Oh!" she said. "I'll shake them!" She turned back and strode off. As she went she remembered Christophe and looked at him once more.--But it was too late. She began to laugh. The little demon which had been in her the moment before was gone. While she was waiting for another to come she saw Christophe with the eyes of indifference. And then, she was hungry. Her stomach was reminding her that it was supper-time: she was in a hurry to rejoin her friends at the inn. She took Christophe's arm, leaned on it with all her weight, groaned, and said that she was exhausted. That did not keep her from dragging Christophe down a slope, running, and shouting, and laughing like a mad thing. They talked. She learned who he was: she did not know his name, and seemed not to be greatly impressed by his title of musician. He learned that she was a shop-girl from a dress-maker's in the _Kaiserstrasse_ (the most fashionable street in the town): her name was Adelheid--to friends, Ada. Her companions on the excursion were one of her friends, who worked at the same place as herself, and two nice young men, a clerk at Weiller's bank, and a clerk from a big linen-draper's. They were turning their Sunday to account: they had decided to dine at the Brochet inn, from which there is a fine view over the Rhine, and then to return by boat.