Eugenie re-seated herself on the door-step and Albert followed her example as if he were mimicking her. They heard footsteps inside the house, through the open door,—the soft, pattering, slippered footsteps of Frau Rodbertus—and soon the glimmer of the candle-light was gone. Albert became more conscious of Eugenie’s nearness, of the torpid heat, of the intense darkness. Presently his eyes penetrated the darkness and he saw the outline of Eugenie’s face, loose strands of her hair breaking the curved lines. They sat for a few moments like bashful children brought together for the first time and left alone. “It’s getting late—I must go home,” she soon said and rose abruptly. He became conscious of his heart-beats. He did not rise. Something checked his voice. She went into the house and he heard her calling “Good night” to Frau Rodbertus, who answered that she was coming down to accompany her home. Albert jumped up and said he would see her home. Eugenie rushed up the stairs and some words were exchanged between her and Frau Rodbertus and she soon came down and accepted his proffered escort. They walked through the courtyard gate silently. He wished to touch her arm, to help her across the step of the portal, but he was keenly conscious of diffidence and barely touched her elbow, quickly letting it go. He grew more loquacious after they had covered some distance. He was telling her how much he admired the French and that he had loved them from his early childhood. “My father hates the Germans,” said she with a nervous laugh. “He would like to go back to France but mother died last year and he has many debts in the city. As soon as he pays his obligations we’ll go back home.” Albert insisted that one must hate no one. “But you can’t love everybody.” He agreed that one could not love everybody. They were now passing through a main thoroughfare, encountering more pedestrians. “_Guten Abend, Herr Zorn_,” a cordial voice addressed Albert. He turned and saw little Aaron Hirsch, accompanied by his lean little wife. Aaron was walking in front, his hands behind, letting his gnarled cane drag over the sidewalk, his wife lagging half a step behind. On his return home Albert made no light. He liked the darkness. His headache was gone, his bitterness departed, but he was sleepless. Eugenie’s presence had filled him with a pacifying joy. Something had stimulated him without irritation.