"Not at all. She fairly raves about you; she talks about nothing but you. Only yesterday she said to me that she hoped to live to see you as happy as you deserved to be, on which I ventured to observe that I considered you as one of the happiest men under the sun, notwithstanding your temporary want of employment, whereupon she shook her pretty head and said, 'The best indeed, but happy?' and shook her head again. Now I only ask you! You not happy!" And Justus whistled the tune of "Happy only is the soul that loves," and exclaimed, "There, now I have got rid of the wrinkles in your forehead, and now we will stop for today, or we shall make a mess of it again, as we did yesterday evening." He sprinkled his figures with water, wrapped Reinhold's half-finished head in wet cloths, and wiped his hands. "There, I am ready!" "Won't you at least shut your desk?" said Reinhold, pointing to a worm-eaten old piece of furniture, on and in which Justus's letters and other papers were wont to lie about. "What for?" said Justus. "No one is likely to touch the rubbish. Antonio will put it all in order; Antonio is order itself. Antonio!" The other workmen had already left the studio; only Antonio was still busying himself in the twilight. "Put these things a little tidy, Antonio. Come!" The two young men left the studio. "Do not you leave too much in Antonio's hands?" asked Reinhold. "How so?" "I do not trust that Italian; so little indeed that I have repeatedly fancied that the fellow must have had a hand in betraying Ferdinanda." Justus laughed. "Really, my dear Reinhold, I begin to think that Cilli was right, and that you are an unhappy man! How can a happy man torment himself with such horrid ideas? I will just run up and make myself tidy. You go on, I will follow you in five minutes." Justus was just hastening away, when the door of Ferdinanda's studio opened, and a lady came out dressed entirely in black, and muffled in a thick black veil. She hesitated for a moment when she saw the two, and then with hasty step and bent head passed them on her way to the yard. The two friends thought at the first moment that it was Ferdinanda herself; but Ferdinanda was taller, and this was not her figure or walk. "But who else could it have been?" asked Reinhold. "I do not know," said Justus. "Perhaps a model--there are shy models. I hope at any rate that it was one. It would be the best sign that she was going to work again, that is to say to come to her senses." Justus sprang up the steps which led to his apartment. Reinhold continued on his way. As he turned the corner of the building, the black figure was just disappearing through the entrance to the house.