"All there was to tell. The Demeter affair is over. Her heart is throbbing once more only for the poor and the miserable--until it is called back." And Anna confided Therese's winter plans to him under the seal of a most rigid silence. Disguised as a poor woman she meant to undertake expeditions through shelters, soup- and tea-kitchens, refuges for the homeless and workmen's dwellings, with a view to shedding a light into the most hidden corners for the benefit of the so-called golden heart of Vienna. She seemed quite ready for it and was perhaps a little sanguine of discovering some horrors. George looked in front of him. He remembered the stylish lady in the white dress who had stood in the sunshine in Lugano in front of the post-office, far from all the cares of the world. "Strange creature," he thought. "Of course she'll make a book out of it," said Anna. "But mind you don't tell any one, not even your friend Bermann." "Shouldn't think of it! But I say, Anna, hadn't you better get something ready for this evening?" She nodded. "Come, take me downstairs. I'll see what there is and consult Marie too ... so far as is possible to do so." They got up. The shadows had lengthened. The children were making a noise in the next garden. Anna took her lover's arm and walked slowly with him. She told him the newest instances of the fantastic stupidity of the maid. The idea of my being a husband, thought George, and listened reflectively. When they got to the house he announced his intention of going to meet Heinrich, left Anna and went into the street. At this precise moment a one-horse carriage jogged up. Heinrich got out and paid the driver. "Hallo!" he said to George, "have you really waited for me after all? It's not so late then?" "Not at all. You're very punctual. We'll go for a short walk if it suits you." "Delighted." They walked on into the forest past the yellow inn with the red terraces. "It is wonderful here," said Heinrich, "and your villa too looks awfully nice. Why don't you live out here?" "Yes, it's absurd not to," agreed George without further explanation. Then they were silent for a while. Heinrich was in a light grey summer suit and carried his cloak over his arm, letting it trail a little behind him. "Did you recognise her again?" he asked suddenly, without looking up. "Yes," replied George. "She only came up for one day from her summer engagement. She goes back by train to-night. A surprise attack, so to speak. But it didn't come off." He laughed. "Why are you so hard?" asked George, and thought of the big envelope with the grey seals and the silly inscription. "There is really no occasion for you to be so. It is only a fluke that she did not get anonymous letters just like you did, Heinrich. And who knows, if you hadn't left her alone for God knows what reasons...."