"Not wholly, Richard. Things have only shifted their basis. Just as, in those days, I felt ashamed of my ignorance, so now I feel ashamed--no, that isn't the right word.... But all this stuff that I store up in my head seems to weigh upon me in my relations with you. I seem to be a nuisance with it.... You men, especially mature men like yourself, seem to know all these things better, even when you don't know them.... The precise form in which a given thought is presented to us may be new to you, but the thought itself you have long digested. It's for this reason that I feel intimidated whenever I approach you with my pursuits. 'You might better have held your peace,' I say to myself. But what am I to do? I'm so profoundly interested!" "So you really need the society of a rather stupid fellow, one to whom all this is new and who will furnish a grateful audience?" "Stupid? No," she answered, "but he ought to be inexperienced. He ought himself to want to learn things.... He ought not to assume a compassionate expression as who should say: 'Ah, my dear child, if you knew what I know, and how indifferent all those things are to me!' ... For these things are not indifferent, Richard, not to me, at least.... And for the sake of the joy I take in them, you ..." "Strange how she sees through me," he reflected, "I wonder she clings to me as she does." And while he was trying to think of something that might help her, the dear boy came into his mind who had to-day divulged to him the sorrows of youth and whom the unconscious desire for a higher plane of life had driven weeping through the streets. "I know of some one for you." Her expression was serious. "You know of some one for me," she repeated with painful deliberateness. "Don't misunderstand me. It's a playfellow, a pupil--something in the nature of a pastime, anything you will." He told her the story of _Siegfried_ and the two seamstresses. She laughed heartily. "I was afraid you wanted to be rid of me," she said, laying her forehead for a few moments against his sleeve. "Shame on you," he said, carelessly stroking her hair. "But what do you think? Shall I bring the young fellow?" "You may very well bring him," she answered. There was a look of pain about her mouth. "Doesn't one even train young poodles?" Chapter IV. Three days later, at the same hour of the afternoon, the student, Fritz von Ehrenberg entered Niebeldingk's study. "I have summoned you, dear friend, because I want to introduce you to a charming young woman," Niebeldingk said, arising from his desk. "Now?" Fritz asked, sharply taken aback. "Why not?" "Why, I'd have to get my--my afternoon coat first and fix myself up a bit. What is the lady to think of me?" "I'll take care of that. Furthermore, you probably know her, at least by reputation." He mentioned the name of her husband which was known far and wide in their native province. Fritz knew the whole story.