He looked at her with great questioning eyes, and she rejoiced at having requited him so bitterly. Wishing to observe the rules of decorum she invited him to stay for supper, though absolutely nothing had been prepared for a guest. "I thought I was to be permitted to take you out," he replied in a hard, disillusioned tone. She smiled politely. "Just as you wish." They descended the stairs in silence, and in silence paced along the canal, the same way they had walked three evenings before, pressed close against each other in drunken bliss. Then, too, they had not spoken; but, oh, how different had their silence been! "What have you done the last few days?" Lilly finally asked, to make conversation. "Nothing special. I tried to write an article for the _Münchener Kunstzeitschrift_, on which I'm a collaborator. My subject was the Sienna School outside of Sienna. But it didn't turn out very well. The editor won't be satisfied." Lilly read reproach of herself in his words. Evidently he wanted to indicate that her entrance into his life was to blame. And when he asked to what restaurant she would like to go, she said, her wounded heart quivering: "I'm neither hungry nor thirsty, and people and light would hurt me." She wanted to add something about "not wishing to be a burden" and similar things, but swallowed the words before they were spoken. "If you wish to avoid people, we might go to the Tiergarten." Lilly agreed. Had he said, "Come down into the water of the canal with me," she would have assented even more willingly. The hard park roads stretched before them in the light of the electric lamps like long galleries with garish walls between which one was forced to run the gauntlet. The pedestrians coming toward Lilly and Dr. Rennschmidt measured the tall couple with cold, intrusive curiosity. "It's worse here than in the crowded streets," said Lilly. Her aching, despondent heart fluttered with excitement He pointed to a side path leading into darkness; and without speaking they dipped into solitude. Above the towering masses of branches the cloudy sky, looking like a metal whose brilliance has worn off, reflected the invisible sea of city lights. Through the lattice work of the leafless bushes gleamed the lamps lining the more public ways; and on all sides the gongs of the electric trams, shooting hither and thither, sounded like fire alarums. But there in the interior of the park, quiet and darkness prevailed. Lilly felt she had sunk into a black sea of mournfulness. The silence between them became intolerable. Suddenly Dr. Rennschmidt stepped in front of Lilly and blocked the way. "What's the matter?" she asked, startled.