"Won't you sit down, Herr Johannes?" she replied. "The sofa over yonder is very uncomfortable. Bring a chair, and let us sit near the window. And now tell me whence you have come and what has brought you to us." I did as she requested, while she resumed her interrupted work and listened intently. The child had pushed his toys aside, and, when I held out my hand, shyly laid his soft little fingers in it. But I soon drew him close to my side, and, ere ten minutes had passed, he was sitting on my knee, patiently letting me stroke his hair while I described my life. True, I dared not make even the most distant allusion, to the one thought around which everything else had turned in the course of the years, and which had now brought me here. But women are sensitive, and have the gift of reading in our eyes and catching from broken tones the very thing we are most anxious to conceal. She, however, did not do this. "I am heartily glad to see you again at last, dear Herr Johannes," she replied, when I had paused. "I have always valued your friendship, and was very sorry that you had perhaps formed a false opinion of me when I disappeared so suddenly. If you stay with us a few days, you will see that I could not have done otherwise. My husband, too, will be glad to make your acquaintance. I have told him about you. True, you will not be able to judge correctly of his talent as an artist. His surroundings are not worthy of him, and he can not appear in his best parts in these little towns. But you will learn to value him as a man." I made no reply. I could not tell her that I greatly doubted the latter, and did not even desire it. My aversion to her husband was as much a part of my reverence for her as the thorn is a portion of the rose. "Put the boy down again," she said. "You will tire the gentleman, Joachimchen." The little fellow had begun to pull my whiskers with his slender fingers, which gave me great pleasure. "Let him stay, Frau Luise," I said. "Shall I tell you a story, little Joachim? Or, shall we play together?" "Play!" replied the dear child, and his earnest eyes sparkled. He slid quickly from my lap and again knelt on the carpet where the little menagerie lay, heaped in motley confusion. I sat down beside him and began to arrange the animals in pairs on the floor, asking my little playmate the name of each. He scarcely missed one. "He is remarkably far advanced for his age," I said to his mother, who sat at her work, looking down at us with a quiet smile. "He has associated entirely with grown persons," she replied. "I hope it will not always be so. I shall try to obtain some companions for him this winter. We shall then spend several months in the same place."