But yet he turned and took another direction through the room. At that moment an insecurely fastened window was blown open by the storm, and the fragments fluttered round about him like snow-flakes. "They want to drive me mad," he cried out loud; "but I will not go mad! Oh Lord, my God! what have I done that Thou shouldst so persecute me! What more can we unfortunate men do than act according to our knowledge and conscience! Have not I done so, so long as I can remember? If our knowledge and our wisdom are imperfect, is that our fault? Why dost Thou punish us for that of which we are not guilty? Surely Thou art pledged to help us in time of need! If Thou hast spoken to me by the mouth of this poor blind girl, I will sacrifice my conviction, my understanding, I will be blindly obedient as a child--if Thou hast spoken to me by her!" He pressed his hands against his throbbing temples; everything grew dim before his eyes; he staggered to the open window, offering to the storm which raged against him his burning forehead and his breast, from which he had torn open his shirt. And through the raging storm he heard a voice crying: "Help! help!" Did he only hear without, the echo of the cry within him? But there--in the courtyard--was not that Grollmann rushing with uplifted hands from the open door of Justus's studio towards the house? while "Help! help!" sounded clearly in his ear! "That poor girl! Is it Cilli?" he cried. But Grollmann did not hear him, and ran into the house; Uncle Ernst hastened out of his room. "Lean well upon my arm, Fräulein," said Grollmann, as he took charge of Cilli at the door. He would have given anything to know what she had been talking about so long with his master, but she was so fearfully pale, and her breathing was so quick and hurried, that he had not the heart to ask her any questions, even if the answer could have been given in one word. As they reached the top step she was obliged to stop, however; but she pressed his hand almost imperceptibly, it was all she could do, and smiled at him. "That is as good as an answer," thought the old man, and aloud he said: "Now, don't you speak another word, Fräulein Cilli; but if you would like me to carry you, just nod. I am an old fellow, and you might be my granddaughter." She smiled again, and shook her head; but he did almost carry her down the stairs and across the corner of the courtyard, into the narrow passage between the garden and the neighbouring house, till they came to the little back door leading into Herr Anders' studio. "Here," said Cilli. "Only a few steps more," said Grollmann. "I have already taken leave of my father," said Cilli. The old man did not know what she meant, and thought the poor child's mind was wandering at last; but still he had not the courage to make any further objection as she pointed, with an imploring gesture, to the little door, as though wanting him to open it. He did so, and, extending her hand to him, she said: