"He does not know how passionately I love him, how I would cover him with kisses," she murmured; and yet, how did it go? "The only charm which a man cannot withstand, and which he follows unresistingly ... and his gratitude for which is, in fact, only recollection and longing----" It was from a French novel that she had gathered this melancholy piece of knowledge--not a good book--and she had not read to the end. But this sentence, which she did not dare repeat entirely to herself, had fallen into her heart like a spark of fire, and smouldered and burnt there--in her heart, in her cheeks, in her closed eyes, in the beating pulses of her temples--air! air! She started up and clutched at the empty air like a drowning man. "I am lost," she cried, "I am lost, lost!" A knock at the door, which she had already heard once or twice, now sounded louder. She let her arms fall, glanced round the room, grasped the letter hidden in her bosom, and passed her hands over her hair and brow and eyes and cheeks. "Come in!" "I was afraid of disturbing you," said Reinhold, standing in the open doorway. "Oh, come in and shut the door." It was the Ferdinanda of last night, with the half-careless, half-sullen, impenetrable manner, and the deep, monotonous, tired voice. Reinhold did as he was desired. She replaced the modelling tool, which she had caught up at random, on the little table, and gave him her hand. "I have been waiting a long time for you." "I should have been here sooner," answered Reinhold, "but a handsome young fellow next door, whom I seemed to disturb in the act of dressing----" "Antonio, an Italian--Herr Anders' assistant." "He either could not or would not give me any information. So I have been through the yards and the machinery department in search of your father, and--did you not hear the noise?" "No." Reinhold stared with astonishment, his heart was still beating and his mind still full of what he had seen and heard. The clang of the bell had frightened Aunt Rikchen out of the house, where he had just led her back only half quieted; the servants had run and stood in the distance, staring anxiously; blind Cilli had come into the doorway and had said a few kind words to him as he passed by; and here, fifty yards off, his own daughter had heard nothing! "Do you artists live in a world of your own?" he asked in astonishment, and then he explained what had happened. "I am afraid," he added, "that half the manufactory will have to be closed. My uncle will suffer immense loss, for he has heavy contracts to fulfil, so the men told me before. Heaven only knows how it will all end!"