Her knees shook. Icy-cold fingers crept through her hair. She refused to understand--to believe. Then she felt that Dehnicke took her hand and led her into the outer hall. He struck a match, and Lilly could now read on the plate the name she had before failed to decipher, "Lilly Czepanek. Pressed Flower Studio." She gave a shrill cry, rushed back into the little drawing-room, and, burying her face in a corner of the sofa, gave vent to her long-restrained emotions in a burst of hot, blissful tears. When she looked up again, she saw him standing beside her, unassuming and correct in his bearing, his expression sober and grave. She was ashamed that she felt so happy, and held out her hand to him in shy gratitude. "May I venture to hope that in my capacity as Walter's deputy I have succeeded in pleasing you?" he asked. After that there was no further question of refusing. CHAPTER VI The gold-tinted tops of the chestnut-trees faded, and ever wider grew the gaps that autumn's march made in their foliage. At places where a little while ago one saw nothing but a leafy lacework, the ripples of the canal now gleamed through. Along it, heavy barges towed by poles drifted in their laborious fashion, and the shaggy watch-dogs barked up at the windows of distinguished residents. Rainy dull weather stole on the city like a thief in the night, and solitude clutched your heart with its clammy hand. She had her work, it was true. Her work! Lilly clung to it day and night, as long as the first infatuation lasted and she could build hopes of realising her ambitious plans. But the eagerly expected "boom" in painted glass with pressed-flower foregrounds never came. The prospectuses she had printed and sent out were ignored, and Herr Dehnicke, who remained her one patron and purchaser, told her in a hurried and nervous way not to lose heart so soon, as the market was decidedly dull at present. Gradually her zeal began to wane. She had given up going to Herr Kellermann for lessons, his importunities with regard to the release of his "chained Venus" having become too insupportable. She locked her "samples" away in the glass-doored cupboards, and only finished Herr Dehnicke's "orders." Oh, those cruel, empty days, with no laughter to brighten them and nothing to wait or live for! In the kitchen a silent young servant held sway. Her eyes had a greedy, far too intelligent expression. The goldfish were fed and given fresh water every morning, and the bullfinch was encouraged to chirp. In the evening, when the chandelier was lighted and radiated its dazzling white light, things were better. Then she would wander from room to room, rearrange ornaments, and say to herself over and over again that no one ever had been so happy as she was, or had a prettier home.