"That is so, but of course I meet him at mess, and even if I do not meet him to-morrow I shall have to the next day, for we may not absent ourselves from the mess dinner for more than two days without an adequate reason. I fear that my blood may not be sufficiently cool by then." Olga thought for a moment, then she asked: "Cannot you get leave of absence? I should of course be very sorry not to see you for a week or a fortnight, but a holiday would do you good; you would enjoy yourself and have a change of thought. You could easily get leave, I should think." "That is so," he agreed, "there is not much doing just at present, and they could not refuse me leave of absence, but where should I go? Home? I don't want to see my father and mother just now. I could not be light-hearted and gay, and they would notice that something depressed me; my coming would upset them instead of delighting them." "I know," cried Olga suddenly: "You said just now you would like to enjoy your life. Go for a fortnight to Paris, to Monte Carlo, or anywhere else where it is delightful, and when you see beautiful women, give them my greeting, and tell them they are to be good and kind to you; I shall not be jealous." And then with a roguish laugh she added: "You know you will not remain faithful to me." "I shall," he said firmly. "No, no," she answered laughingly. "I wager anything you won't." "But I shall have no chance of being unfaithful to you." She looked at him astonished. "How do you mean? For what reason?" "For the simplest of all reasons--you will come with me." "George!" Laughing and crying with joy, she flung her arms round his neck. "You will take me with you? I shall see Paris or some other beautiful town? George, you are really too good and kind," and she kissed him again and again. Suddenly she stopped. "What is the matter with you?" "I cannot go with you." "Why ever not?" "You shall not be able to say that I persuaded you into taking a holiday for my own advantage; besides, I do not know if I can get permission to go." "The first reason is absurd," he said. "I am not so sure if it will be a pleasure to come with me, but you give me great happiness by your company. Nothing is more unpleasant, at least to me, than to travel alone, to sit in a carriage by oneself, to have meals alone, to wander through the museums and galleries alone, and to have no one with whom one can discuss things. There will be no difficulty about getting permission; just now you are not very busy at the theatre." "Yes, but--the _répertoire_ may be changed any day." "Dear child," he assured her, "your director is not a brute. To-morrow ask him to give you leave of absence, and if he makes any difficulties tell him you are prepared to pay two to three thousand marks' compensation if he will absolve you from a fortnight's duty. I assure you he will give you a holiday for as long as you like."