She blushes and jumps up. "Catch me," she cries and barricades herself behind the table; but when he attempts to pursue her she walks calmly towards him and says; "leave that! We were going to undertake something, you know.--Keep the keys handy; in any case--perhaps we shall think of something on the way." He takes the great bunch of keys from its peg and follows her out into the yard, on which the hot midday sun is glaring. "Unlock the mill," she says, "it is cool in there." He does as he is bid, and with one wild leap she jumps down the steps into the half-dark space which lies before them in Sabbath quiet. "I should be frightened to be here alone," she says, looking round at him, then she points to the door of the office, the light wood of which gleams through the semi-obscurity, spreads open her fingers and shudders. "Has he never yet told you anything?" she whispers after a little while, bending towards his ear. He shakes his head. He grows somewhat oppressed in this close, dimly-lighted place--he breathes heavily--he longs for light and fresh air.--But Trude feels all the more comfortable in this vapor-laden atmosphere, in this mysterious twilight, where through the closed shutters stray slanting sunbeams glide like golden streamers onto the floor, and form a play-ground for myriads of little dancing particles of dust. The tremor which fills her is just to her liking;--she crouches down, then stealthily creeps up the stairs as if on the lookout for ghosts. When she reaches the gallery she gives a loud scream, and when Johannes anxiously asks what ails her, she says she only felt she must give vent to her feelings. She climbs up to a mill-hopper, clambers over the balustrade and slides down again on the banisters. Then she disappears in the darkness among the machinery, where the huge wheels tower above each other in gigantic masses. Johannes lets her do just as she likes; to-day there is no danger, to-day everything is at a standstill. A few seconds later she re-appears. She nestles up to Johannes' side, looks about with startled eyes, then pulls from her pocket a small key, hanging on a black ribbon. "What is this?" she asks softly. Johannes throws a rapid glance towards the office door and looks at her enquiringly. She nods. "Put it back," he cries, alarmed. She balances the key in her hand and gazes longingly at the shining metal. "I once saw by chance where he hid it," she whispers. "Put it back," he says once more. She knits her brows, then she suggests with a short laugh: "That would be something for us to undertake." With that she casts a timorous side-glance at his face to try and explore his mood. His heart beats audibly. In his soul there dawns the presentiment of approaching guilt.