She was sentimental, and when she learned that Albert wrote poetry she became even more solicitous and obliging. She had the tenderness and delicacy of a French woman. Her voice was soft, almost soothing, and when she would pucker her lips and turn upon him her large dark eyes he would at once become docile. And while he had determined to keep his poetic aspirations to himself—he had been warned by his uncle that publicity of this fact might hurt him in his standing as a young business man—he frequently forgot his resolution and spoke of his _Lieder_ to her. He even recited some of them to her. He had found in her an enthusiastic audience, almost as enthusiastic as Christian. And though he had abjured her not to divulge his secret he knew that she had spoken of his verses to Eugenie. The girl never made mention of it but he felt that she knew. “_Bon soir, Mademoiselle_,” he said to Eugenie and was about to proceed. Eugenie’s face was turned upwards, the candle light through the open door catching the light of her eyes. Albert hesitated in his step. “It’s too hot to walk, Herr Zorn” said Frau Rodbertus. “Just for a stroll and then to bed.” “It’s too early for bed,” Frau Rodbertus said laughingly. Eugenie’s eyes were upon him. Albert sat down on the threshold next to Eugenie. After a space Frau Rodbertus asked Eugenie to play something. “It’s terribly hot, and too late,” pleaded Eugenie. “It is never too hot nor too late for music,” coaxed Frau Rodbertus. When Albert joined in the request, Eugenie rose promptly and in rising supported her palm against Albert’s knee. He was pleasantly conscious of the contact of her hand. As he rose to follow her into the house his erstwhile loneliness was robbed of its sadness. Without analyzing himself he felt the genial warmth of these two as contrasted to the frigid kindness of his relatives. The former were human, stripped of all artifice, the latter formal, studied, cultivated. Albert had no trained ear for music but his knowledge of melody, like all knowledge that came to him, was intuitive. And although his preference for music was limited to vocal and the violin—the staccato-like notes of the piano never appealed to him—he had a keen appreciation of all music.