She could see nothing of his face, for his back was turned towards her, and it was dark just at that spot. With a slightly accelerated heart-beat she went on her way, but in a few moments her feet declined to take her further, and she was obliged to retrace her steps. The dark figure still stood motionless among the trees, and regarded, through the bare branches, the light in her corner drawing-room. This time he heard her footstep and turned towards her. Startled, she recognised his features. He too showed signs of being perturbed, for at first he made a foolish little attempt to look as if he had not seen her, then with an embarrassed smile he took off his hat. She trembled so violently that she dared not give him her hand. "Dr.--Rennschmidt," was all she managed to ejaculate. He was the first to regain his composure. "You will wonder," he began, walking beside her, "why I was standing here in the dark looking over there.... If I said it was by accident, you would scarcely credit it; so I may as well confess at once.... I have been troubled, since we parted the other evening, with the thought that things were not quite all right between us; there was a misunderstanding somewhere, a hitch, a hastiness--I don't exactly know what--but I feel that I owe you an apology for something." "Why, if that was on your mind," she replied, "did not you come in and tell me?" "Would it have been permitted?" he asked. "Why not?" "Pardon, but I have always believed that what privileges and rights we men enjoy with regard to women are accorded to us by them. For us there exist no others. We may stand here, of course, in the dark and tear our hair ..." "Have you been doing that?" "Don't, please, ask for any explanations," he begged. Though his voice did not betray emotion, the arm that touched hers trembled a little. She stood still, startled, and glanced helplessly down the dark avenue she had come by. "Does this mean you wish me to leave you?" he asked. In the light cast by a lamp she saw his eager questioning look. "Oh no!" she answered slowly, and it seemed as if someone else was speaking for her. "Now we've met, we need not part at once." "That's what I think," he said, as gravely as if he were making an affirmation. They walked on together in silence. Then he said in a lighter tone: "There's one thing I ought to draw your attention to. You have left your light burning. If you are so good as to spare me an hour, I am afraid it will cause you anxiety." "Oh, never mind the light! We'll go and put it out," she exclaimed joyously; and turned on her heel so quickly that he was left two or three steps behind her. As they crossed the slender span of the Hohenzollern Bridge, he pointed to the sky. "Jupiter shines on our enterprise," he said. "I like him better than Venus, who gallivants after the sun, and will have a rosy carpet for her feet." "Show me Jupiter," said Lilly, standing still.