"Yes, deeds which you do for yourself," said Therese. "But I only call a real deed what one is capable of doing for others, without any feeling of revenge, without any personal vanity, and if possible anonymously." At last George had to go. What a lot of things he still had to see to. "I'll come part of the way with you," said Therese to him. Leo embraced him again, and said: "It really was nice of you." Therese disappeared to fetch her hat and jacket. George went into the next room. Old Frau Golowski seemed to have been waiting for him; with a strangely anxious face she came up to him and put an envelope in his hand. "What is that?" "The account, Herr Baron. I didn't want to give it to Anna.... It might perhaps have upset her too much." "Oh yes...." He put the envelope in his pocket and thought that it felt strangely different to any other.... Therese appeared with a little Spanish hat, ready to go out. "Here I am. Goodbye, mamma. Shan't be home for dinner." She went down the stairs with George and threw him sideways a glance of pleasure. "Where can I take you?" asked George. "Just take me along with you. I'll get out somewhere." They got in, the vehicle went on. She put to him all kinds of questions which he had already answered in the apartment, as though she took it for granted that he was now bound to be more candid with her than before the others. She did not learn anything except that he felt comfortable in his new surroundings and that his work gave him satisfaction. Had his appearance been a great surprise for Anna? No, not at all. He had of course given her notice of it. And was it really true that he meant to come back again at Easter? It was his definite intention.... She seemed surprised. "Do you know that I had almost imagined...." "What?" "That we would never see you again!" He was somewhat moved and made no answer. The thought then ran through his mind: Would it not have been more sensible...? He was sitting quite close to Therese and felt the warmth of her body, as he had done before in Lugano. In what dream of hers might she now be living--in the dark jumbled dream of making humanity happy, or the light gay dream of a new romantic adventure? She kept looking insistently out of the window. He took her hand, without resistance, and put it to his lips. She suddenly turned round to him and said innocently: "Yes, stop now. I'd better get out here." He let go her hand and looked at Therese. "Yes, my dear George. What wouldn't one fall into," she said, "if one didn't"--she gave an ironic smile--"have to sacrifice oneself for humanity? Do you know what I often think?... Perhaps all this is only a flight from myself." "Why.... Why do you take to flight?" "Goodbye, George."