His carriage stopped. He got out, and the Worronska beckoned him to her. Contrary to her custom, she was not holding the reins to-day, and was not seated upon the box. "I am glad you are come. I came myself to see you, Professor Möllner, as I received no answer to my note,--and I was just driving away." Johannes was confused. He had received the note she had alluded to, but had not opened it. "Pray lend me your arm. Have you one moment for me?" "I am at your service," said Johannes gravely, and he helped her out of her carriage. "Will you grant me a short audience in your house,--or am I unworthy to enter this temple of science?" Johannes opened the door for her. "My simple dwelling is but poorly adapted for the reception of such distinguished guests. I can scarcely hope that you can be comfortable here, even for a few minutes." "How pleasant this is!" she cried, as he led the way to his office. "Believe me, I like this much better than my marble halls, where there is no breath of true feeling." "I should have thought that one like yourself could always collect warm-hearted friends about her," said Johannes absently, only for the sake of saying something. The countess looked at him for an instant suspiciously. She knew in what repute she was held, and the compliment was perhaps ambiguous. But the cloud upon his brow convinced her that his thoughts were busy elsewhere. She looked in his eyes, but his gaze fell before hers, as we look away from what offends our delicacy. The countess interpreted it otherwise,---his embarrassment flattered her. "Do you call the crowd of coarse flatterers, who once surrounded me, warm-hearted people?" she asked in a tone of disdain. "If you found none such amongst them, I must lament that they kept all such from your side. For no man of sincere and warm heart could approach you as long as you were surrounded by such a throng." The countess rose from the sofa, upon which she had thrown herself. "I sent them from me long ago: there is nothing to prevent the approach of any man of noble character,--but none such attempt it,--I must go half-way to seek them." Johannes was silent. The conversation was an infinite weariness to him: he had need of all his chivalry to enable him to endure it with becoming patience. "You are out of spirits, Dr. Möllner. Am I the cause of it?" "What a question, countess! Could I say yes, even if you were? I must have been guilty of great rudeness towards you, if you can suspect me of such _gaucherie_." "I certainly cannot boast of any exaggerated courtesy from you." "I never force upon others what can have no possible value for them," said Johannes coldly. The countess bit her lip. "Is that meant for me?" "I do not see how. I said nothing that could in any way apply to you." "Indeed?" "It surprises me to have to assure you of it," replied Johannes, who began to divine that he had touched a sensitive spot in the countess's mind.