"If you think by any chance," said Therese, "that the good luck which happened to come your way will alter my views you are making a violent mistake. On the contrary." And turning to George she continued: "Theoretically, you know, I am absolutely against their having let him out. If you'd simply knocked the fellow down dead, as you would have been quite entitled to do, without this abominable farce of a duel you'd never have been let out, but would have served your five to ten years for a certainty. But since you went in for this ghastly life-and-death gamble which is favoured by the State, because you cringed down to the military point of view you've been pardoned. Am I not right?" She turned again to George. The latter only nodded and thought of the poor young man whom Leo had shot, who as a matter of fact had had nothing else against the Jews except that he disliked them just as much as most people did after all--and whose real fault had only been that he had tried it on the wrong man. Leo stroked his sister's hair and said to her: "Look here, if you say publicly in your next speech what you've just said to-day within these four walls you'll really impress me." "Yes, and you'll impress me," replied Therese, "if you take a ticket to Jerusalem to-morrow with old Ehrenberg." They got up from the table. Leo invited George to come into his room with him. "Shall I be disturbing you?" asked Therese. "I too would like to see something of him, you know." They all three sat in Leo's room and chatted. Leo seemed to be enjoying his regained freedom without either scruples or remorse. George felt strangely affected by this. Therese sat on the sofa in a dark well-fitting dress. To-day was the first occasion on which she resembled the young lady who had drunk Asti under a plane-tree in Lugano, when she was the mistress of a cavalry officer, and who had subsequently kissed some one else. She asked George to play the piano. She had never yet heard him. He sat down, played something from _Tristan_ and then improvised with happy inspiration. Leo expressed his appreciation. "What a pity that he is not staying," said Therese, as she leaned against the wall and crossed her hands over her high coiffure. "I am coming back at Easter," replied George, and looked at her. "But only to disappear again," said Therese. "That may be," replied George, and the thought that his home was no longer here, that he had no home at all anywhere, and would not have for a long time, suddenly overwhelmed him. "How would it be," said Leo, "if we went on a tour together in the summer?--you, Bermann and I? I promise you that you won't be bored by theoretical conversation like you were once last autumn ... do you still remember?" "Oh well," said Therese, stretching herself, "nothing will come of it anyway. Deeds, gentlemen!" "And what comes of deeds?" asked Leo. "Putting them at the highest, they simply save individual situations for the time being."