"Hear, hear," he answered approvingly. "That's capital! But no, no, dear gracious one; I am not talking platitudes. I preach simply, '_Will_,' the will to personality. In truth, there's room for plenty of nuances. You have the stuff in you for a _grande amoureuse_; but, alas! not the courage." "And that shows I haven't the stuff," she retorted, giving him a radiant look. He laughed like a schoolboy. "Yes, yes. We all get old sometime, and listen to little virtuous women lecturing us on logic." And he chivalrously allowed her the satisfaction of having got the best of him in repartee. During the next few days Lilly reflected a good deal on what they had talked about. How could he know so much about her? It was almost as if he were in league with supernatural agencies. "Will to personality," he had said. The phrase made her happy. Once more she began to ascend to the heights. * * * * * Another time, when they followed a party of their friends at midnight along the lively Friedrichstrasse, he adopted a different tone. "I have a queer sort of feeling, dearest lady," he said, "that you are afraid of me." "I?" she said, catching her breath nervously. "Why should I be afraid of you?" "Because you know that I have a message for you. A message of redemption for which in your secret heart you don't feel ready." "I don't understand you," she faltered. But she understood perfectly what he would say. She knew what part he might play in her life if---- "I am a man tuned in a minor key," he continued. "I don't like playing my emotions on a trumpet, otherwise your ears might have tingled ere this. Anyhow, I will say this, that I think it a scandal that a woman like you, made to walk in high places, one capable of noble thought and elevated enjoyments, should be bribed by a few pickled herrings into living a stupid burlesque of a life.... I am not going to blame anyone, but, my dearest lady, I assure you it is impossible to drain life's ecstasy to the dregs in lukewarm dishwater ... and, after all, intoxication is the main thing, so long as the blood leaps in our veins." Lilly trembled on his arm. They overtook a throng of gay night-revellers young fellows who were shouldering their walking-sticks, and looking dreamily before them with dizzy eyes. One whistled Wagner, another sang a student's song. Pretty women of the town, coming towards them, gave them alluring glances from dark-rimmed, passion-lit eyes ... more followed, youths and men, girls little more than children, all infected by the same transports. It was like a figure in a sylvan dance in which everyone offered each other hand and mouth, body and soul. "What am I to do?" she asked in a low tone, dropping her chin on her heaving breast.