When evening came, she was quite uneasy. It was not the right thing for her to have a secret meeting with any man but her husband; but, perhaps the place may be given away to-morrow, and then it would be too late. She sat by the window and looked up at the stars. Her cheeks glowed, she drew a deep breath. "What ails you?" inquired Mademoiselle Kramer. "I feel so warm and oppressed." "I'll send for the doctor." "I don't need the doctor. Just let me sit here quietly. But no; let me walk up and down in the garden for a few minutes and I'll feel better." "The maid can go with you." "No, I don't need any one; I'll feel better if I go alone." "But, I beg of you, don't go too far, and come back soon. You've seen, to-day, how every misstep of yours draws reproof on me." "Yes, I'll come back soon." Walpurga went out at the back door. The gravel grated under her footsteps and she trod more lightly. The air was laden with the perfume of the flowers; the swans in the lake uttered a strange sound, like a deep, muffled trumpet tone; the sky sparkled with countless stars and, just as Walpurga looked up, she saw a brilliant meteor and exclaimed: "Hansei!" In her innermost heart she wished for nothing but her husband's happiness. She stopped when she had uttered his name. She felt as if she had better return. She was a married woman and oughtn't to meet a strange man at night, even though it was by the chapel. Something ran across the path. Was it a cat, a martin or a weasel? "Return," said an inner voice, but she went on, nevertheless. She reached the arbor. Baum stepped forth from behind a vine-clad column. He held out both his hands to her and she offered him her own. He tried to draw her closer to him but she stood firm. "What have you to tell me?" asked Walpurga. "Nothing but what's good. You see, we lesser folks must help each other, and you're so much to me that I could do anything for you." "If you can do me a good service, I shall be grateful as long as I live--I and my husband and my child. Tell me quick; I'm in a hurry." "Then we can leave it for some other time." "No, tell me now. What do you mean?" "I really meant nothing at all, but you see we must always wait on others, and so I thought that we might have a quarter of an hour to ourselves. I only wanted to tell you that you are the light of my life, my happiness. When I look at you, and listen to you, I'd like to do--I don't know what, and I can't tell." "It isn't necessary, either; and let me tell you, this is very wicked of you." "Is it wicked that I love you to distraction?" "Yes, and doubly wicked that you fooled me here and made me believe that you had something good to tell me." "And so I have," said Baum, quickly; "forgive me for what I've done; if you do, I'll tell you the rest." "Yes, I'll forgive you, but make haste." "Well," said Baum with great composure, "it's simply this. He who stands at the manger and doesn't eat, is a fool. Do you understand me?"