But hundreds of others had been at her feet, not only rich and handsome, but also good and true-hearted men. And she had loved none of them. Her hour had at last struck. She had gone to Baden-Baden.... There she had met Doctor Friedrich Reimann, private physician of Prince Sugatscheff, and she had learned to love him as he loved her. And then she had lost him--by her own fault, as her heart had told her many a time.... She had never been able to make reparation, for he had disappeared immediately after that fatal hour, and though she had tried to find him, she had never been able to do so. And she had smiled, jested, and ruled over her intimates as before. But her heart was no longer empty, it was filled with a bitter repentance. She had borne it for a long time, but at last the life she was leading had become utterly distasteful to her. She had then returned home, in the hope of forgetting what had happened, or, at any rate, of finding relief in no longer being obliged to wear a mask of happiness. There she had found the man for whom she had sought. She had found him under circumstances she could not understand. But what did that matter? No one could prevent her marrying whom she would.... She longed to repair the wrong she had once done. She longed to be happy, and to make her lover happy.... For the first time in the long hours in which she had been sitting alone in the summer-house she smiled, and it was a smile of hope and love.... * * * * * A breath of spring penetrated even the dark labyrinth of the Jewish town on that day, making the anxious forget their anxieties, and the sick their sufferings. The bright warm sunshine spread hope and joy around. Bocher David found nearly all of his patients better and more cheerful. He talked longer than usual with each of them, and promised almost solemnly to see them next day. After that he went to the castle. The fat porter told him that the Frau Graefin was waiting for him in the summer-house in the park. He went there, and entered with his usual expression of gentle gravity. She hastened to meet him, and putting her hand in his, said: "Thank you, Friedrich! Thank you for coming. I have looked forward to this day, and have hoped so much from it. All will be well now." She paused, as though expecting him to speak. "I have come, Frau Graefin," he answered, gravely and quietly, "because you entreated me to do so. And, as circumstances have brought us together again so strangely, I owe you an explanation regarding my dress and my former life. You have a right to it...." Her eyes filled with tears when she heard him speak so coldly and gravely. "No, no, Friedrich," she exclaimed; "you are cruel. You are angry with me, and you have just cause for anger. But I have suffered so terribly ever since the day when I wrote that dreadful letter.... Forgive me for the sake of my sorrow and repentance! Oh, forgive me, and don't look at me so sternly!"