A loose leaf fell into his hands. It had on it the head of a man in profile, drawn in beautiful bold lines. In a corner stood the letters A. V. O. and a date. "That leaf will drop out," said Oswald. "Let it drop, then!" replied Melitta. The tone in which she said these few words was so peculiar, so entirely without the ordinary sweetness of her voice, that Oswald involuntarily looked up at her. He saw that her beautiful brows were contracted as if in anger, and her lips trembling. He looked down again instantly, and was about to put the leaf back in its place, when Melitta laid her hand on his arm and said: "How do you like the head?" A storm rose in Oswald's heart. He might have thrown himself instantly at Melitta's feet to cry out: Do I not love you, Melitta? How can you ask my opinion about a man whom you have loved, whom you perhaps still love? But he checked himself and said, with apparent calmness: "It is the head of a man who recalls to me Tasso's words: 'And if all the gods united To bring him gifts to the cradle, The Graces, alas! were not there.' This man can never be happy, because he will never desire to be happy." "And that is why this man will drop out of my life as this leaf drops out of my album. If one could kill memory as one can destroy a paper, it would no longer be here. But since that cannot be done, let it stay there. Go on!" The storm in Oswald's heart had passed by. Like a soft spring breeze the thought came to him: She could not and would not tell you that if she did not think you deserved her confidence and her friendship. And he felt a sense of unspeakable happiness in this thought. It was one of those solemn, sublime moments which flash once or twice through the night of every man's life--one of those moments when we see the heavens open, and the angelic choir go up and down singing. Peace! Peace! unto our ready heart ... In this blissful disposition he looked over the other drawings which Melitta had made during her Italian journey--landscapes in clear, well-defined lines; sketches from cities, palaces, streets, and ruins; between, a lazzaroni face or a dreamy girl's countenance. Then came studies from the antique, generally very painstaking studies; then again some subject was drawn over and over till it satisfied Melitta's keen criticism. A head of the Venus of Milo was particularly fine. On one of the following pages was the whole statue. "Where did you draw that?" asked Oswald. "Surely not from a copy?"