She had lighted the lamp at these words, and placed it upon the table. She still wore the dark silk dress which she had on at the theatre this evening; it was certainly plain and unornamented, but not so coarse and unbecoming as her usual house dress. Also her never failing cap had disappeared, and now, that it was missing, could be seen for the first time what a singular wealth was hidden beneath it. The fair hair, of which at other times only a narrow strip was visible, could hardly be confined in the heavy plaits which showed themselves in all their splendid abundance; but this natural ornament, which any other woman would have displayed, was in her case hidden carefully day after day, until chance disclosed it, and yet it appeared to give her head quite a different mould. As usual, Reinhold had no eyes for it; he hardly looked at his young wife, and only listened slightly and abstractedly to her words. There was not even the slightest trace of reproach in them, but he must have felt something of the sort lay there as he said impatiently-- "You know I am occupied on all possible sides. My new composition which was completed a few weeks since, was brought out publicly to-night for the first time--" "I know it," interrupted Ella. "I was in the theatre." Reinhold seemed taken aback. "You were in the theatre?" asked he quickly and sharply. "With whom? At whose instigation?" "I was there alone--I wished--" she stopped, and continued hesitatingly; "I too wished to hear your music for once, of which all the world speaks and I alone do not know." Her husband was silent and looked enquiringly at her. The young wife did not understand the art of deceiving, and an untruth would not pass her lips. She stood before him, deadly pale, trembling in all her limbs; no especially keen sight was required to guess the truth, and Reinhold did so at once. "And only for this reason you went?" said he slowly at last. "Will you deceive me with this excuse, or yourself, perhaps? I see the report has found its way to you already! You wished to see with your own eyes, naturally. How could I think it would be spared me and you?" Ella looked up. There was again the darkly lowering brow she was always accustomed to in her husband, the look of gloomy melancholy, the expression of defiant, suppressed suffering, no longer a breath of that beaming triumph which had lighted up his features a few hours before--that was when away, far from his own people; only the shadow remained for home. "Why do you not answer?" he began afresh. "Do you think I should be coward enough to deny the truth? If I have been silent towards you so far, it was done to spare you; now that you know it, I will render account. You have been told of the young actress, to whom I owe the first incitement to work, my first success, and to-day's triumph. God knows how the connection between us has been represented to you, and naturally you look upon it as a crime worthy of death."