"We shall never get to the bottom of it," said Meta at last; "the circumstances are just the circumstances that you are called Elsa von Werben and he is called Reinhold Schmidt, and that you are a wealthy heiress and might if you pleased marry the richest and most distinguished man, and that he is poor; and wife of the Superintendent of Pilots certainly does not sound so well as baroness or countess. Perhaps he has heard, too--people hear everything in Berlin--that you would lose your inheritance if you followed the dictates of your heart, and so he really is right in talking of 'circumstances,' dreadful circumstances." Elsa agreed with her in it all, but still could not see any reason why he had not come again to see them, and why even her father apparently avoided his name. She would confess now for the first time that three days ago she had been rejoicing exceedingly at the thought of the Sattelstädts' party, because she knew that Reinhold had also been invited, and even there he had sent an excuse--a proof how he avoided every possibility of meeting her even on neutral ground. "I will get to the bottom of it," said Meta. "How would it be possible?" Meta laughed; "I never do anything by halves, to-morrow I shall go there again. Will you come with me?" "Meta!" "You would not do, either," said Meta; "it must be an old lady, and a lady of some position. We have got one, however; tomorrow morning I shall pay her a visit, and to-morrow afternoon, as I said, we will begin." "But for goodness' sake, Meta, what are you talking about?" Meta said it ought to have been a surprise; but she could not manage it under three sittings at the best, and she could not keep it secret so long, so that after all it might be better to confess everything at once.