Then I embraced Franzius. It was the first time in my life that I had "embraced" a man French fashion. He and his old violin I took in my arms, nearly crushing them. Fool! fool! Double fool that I was not to have seen it before! Her sadness when I was with her, the way she lighted up when he was near! And I had fancied that she was in love with me! There was a grain of cynical bitterness in that recollection, but so small a grain that it was swallowed up, perished for ever, in the honest joy that filled my heart. I had done the right thing, I had prepared to sacrifice myself, and this was my reward. Then the recollection of the old man upstairs came to me, and, bidding Franzius to wait for me, I ran from the room. I saw a servant on the stairs and called to him to bring wine and cigars to the gentleman in the library; then, two steps at a time, up I went to the dressing-room. I knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Beril was tying my guardian's cravat. I took him by the shoulders and marched him out of the room. "Saved!" cried I to the astonished Vicomte as I stood with my back to the door and he stood opposite me, his striped satin cravat hanging loose and his hand half reaching for the bell. Then I told him all, and he saw that I was not mad. "Is he downstairs, this Monsieur Franzius?" asked my guardian when I had finished my tale and he had finished congratulating me. "Yes." "I would like to see him. Ask him to déjeûner." "He's rather---- I mean, you know, he's a Bohemian; does not bother much about dress and that sort of thing--so you must not expect to see a Boulevardier." "My dear sir," said the old man with delightful gaiety, "if one is in a burning building, does one trouble about the colour of the fire escape that saves one from destruction, or if it has been new painted? Ask him to déjeûner though he came dressed as a red Indian!" Franzius, when I found him in the library, would not touch the wine or cigars I had ordered up; he was in a frame of mind far above such earthly things. I made him sit down, and, taking a seat opposite to him, listened while he told me the whole affair. He declared that the idea of love for Eloise had never come to him of itself; he was far too humble to worship her, except as one worships the sun. It was his music that said to him: "She loves you, and you love her. Listen to me: Am I not beautiful? I am the child of your soul and hers; divine love has brought you together so that you might create me. I will exist for ever, for I am the child of two immortal souls."