Johannes silently conducted Ernestine thither. His duties as host then compelled him to leave her. She stood alone in the middle of the room, looking around for some one to whom she might turn. No one came near her. The ladies whispered together, casting occasional glances in her direction, and the gentlemen stood about in groups, either turning their backs upon Ernestine or eyeing her through their glasses. She stood alone, as upon the stage before an audience. She did not know what to do. It seemed cowardly and undignified to flee for refuge to a corner, and yet this cross-fire of keen eyes was as hard to endure as it had been years before at the Staatsräthin's. What did her intellect or learning avail her now? She was as much shunned, despised, and misunderstood among people of refinement and culture as by the peasants. What fatality was it that thus attended her? Who would solve the riddle for her? An unexpected end was put to her torment. Elsa glided up to her upon Möllner's arm. "Fräulein Herbert wishes to be presented to you," he said. Ernestine gazed in amazement at the strange flower-crowned elderly child, and took with some hesitation the damp, withered little hand held out to her. "I begged my--our friend--" she looked round, but Möllner had again joined the other guests--"to make us acquainted with each other, because I feel myself so strangely drawn towards you. Your observations upon the brain impressed me greatly,--for I too am wild about natural science, and am myself half scientific. I dote on phrenology. I am a disciple of Schewe's, whose striking diagnosis of my characteristics converted me to Gall's theory. Heavens! what a delight it would be to discuss this subject with you, who have studied the brain so thoroughly! I am sure we should understand one another. You must let me examine your head--so remarkable a head for a woman. What a treat it will be for me! Come,--pray sit down." Ernestine made an impatient gesture of refusal. "What! you do not wish it? Oh, don't be afraid that I shall prove an _enfant terrible_ and tell what I discover. I never tell tales." "I am not afraid of that," replied Ernestine bluntly. "If you could discover my character from the shape of my skull, there would be no need of your silence. I have nothing to conceal. But I take no interest in such nonsense." "Nonsense do you call it?" cried Elsa, clasping her withered hands. "Then you do not believe in Gall's doctrine?" "What do you mean by believe?" said Ernestine. "I do not believe in anything that has not been proved, and when anything has been proved I do not believe it,--I know it. Gall's theory is like Lavater's physiognomy, an hypothesis based upon coincidences, fit only to amuse idlers, but not worthy the attention of an earnest labourer in the cause of science."