"I know that you like me and trust me," said Cilli, warmly returning the pressure of Reinhold's hand; "and I am well punished for my cowardice in having, notwithstanding, kept silence so long; for, only think, Reinhold, I believed at first----" "What did you believe, dear Cilli?" "I believed at first that it was Ferdinanda; and I was very, very unhappy about it, for Ferdinanda may be as beautiful as you all say, and as talented, but you would never have been happy with her. You are so kind and so good-tempered, and she is--I will not say ill-tempered, but haughty. Believe me, Reinhold, I feel it, as a beggar feels whether what is given him is from kindness or only to get rid of him. I have never put myself in her way, God knows; but He knows also that she has never gone a step out of her way to say one of those kind words to me which fall so readily from your lips, because your heart is overflowing with them. For some time, too, I trembled for Justus, till I learned to understand his nature, and saw that an artist--inasmuch as he is unlike other men--cannot love either like other men. But you, with your tender, loving heart, how should you not love--and love immeasurably--and be immeasurably unhappy if your love is misplaced! I have said this often to Justus when we were talking about you--at first; now I do not do so any more, for he chatters about everything that comes into his head, and I have observed how carefully you have guarded your secret." "That I have indeed!" cried Reinhold. "I might almost say from myself; and I cannot think how you have discovered it." "It seems almost a miracle, does it not?" said Cilli; "and yet it is not one, if you seeing people knew how well the blind hear, how they pay attention to every trifle, and to the tone in which you mention a particular name, as you bring it in at first shamefacedly, and then a little more boldly, as soon as you feel secure, till at last all your conversation is full of the music of the loved name, as in the East the dawn is filled with the name of Allah, cried by the Muezzins from the roof of the minaret. And ah! what sadness there often was in the tone in which you spoke it! What trembling hope of joy breathed in it, when you told me the other day that you were going to spend the evening with her, to pass hours in her company at that large party! They were your only happy hours, my poor Reinhold, for the very next day fell the frost upon the young green shoots, and since then the beloved name has never passed your lips. Are you then quite in despair now?" "No, dear Cilli," answered Reinhold; "I only see a happiness which I thought I might grasp with my hand, as a child thinks it may grasp a star, vanish from me in grey distance."