Some of them Lilly recognised, not by their features, because they passed her too quickly for that, but by their caps, which she distinguished accurately. There was the "sad one," the "washed-out one," the "stylish one" and the "wireless one." She could also recognise their walk and the manner in which they rang the bell at the opposite door. Even if occupied with customers, she could tell, without having looked through the window, exactly how many and which of the friends were working with young Redlich, and she would revolve in her mind why this or that one had not come that day. Spring advanced. The inmates of the house began occasionally to sit on the front porch, where there were benches on either side of the door. Before leaving, the young gentlemen would remain there a while chatting, and now and then He would lean over the railing in the twilight, dreaming, no doubt, of future conquests. With fluttering heart Lilly would stand behind a bookcase where she had cunningly contrived an observatory for herself by removing a number of books, and from there read the world-stirring thoughts that lay on the bold soaring forehead. The benches on the right side of the porch, in front of the windows of the circulating library, generally remained unoccupied, because Mrs. Asmussen, to whom this side belonged, preferred not to desert her evening medicine, and Lilly lacked courage to ask for permission to sit there by herself. But one evening in May, when dark blue clouds hung in the heavens shot with red, enticing rather than threatening, when the streets were so quiet that Lilly could hear the distant plashing of the fountain in the market-place, when the only stir was created by swallows darting hither and thither, she could no longer stand the library's pasty, leathery smell, and fetching her embroidery--more for show than from eagerness to sew--she went out to sit on the porch. She knew he had gone out and was not in the habit of remaining away after ten o'clock. So he would be bound to pass her at all events. Half an hour went by, another half hour, then a quarter of an hour. Finally she saw a blue and white cap come swinging down the street in the last glow of evening. Her first thought was to run into the library with all possible speed. But she was ashamed of the idea, and remained seated. He came, he saw her, he raised his cap and went in. She thought gleefully: "Well, he bowed at last." At the end of scarcely ten minutes he reappeared on the scene, seated himself on the bench belonging to _his_ side of the house, toyed with pebbles, whistled softly, and acted altogether as if he did not see her. Lilly sat in her corner with her face turned aside, rolling and unrolling her embroidery, and every now and then fetching a little sigh, not to show her love--oh, certainly not!--but because her breath came short.