Hertha looked at it again. She thought she must be mistaken; but the fiery eye did not disappear. It winked at her roguishly and pryingly as much as to say, "I know you. You and your stupid love-lorn heart!" This heart began to beat louder. What could it be at this time of night making fireworks in the deserted sleeping garden? "If you had an atom of pluck you would go at once and find out." When Hertha's will called her courage in question, she was sure to act. So she flung a grey waterproof over her shoulders, threw an inquiring glance at Elly, who, with slightly pouting rosy lips, slept the most profound sleep, and in her slippered feet slid out into the corridor, where the moonlit window-panes cast a galaxy of bright shapes on the long wall. Now she began to be afraid in earnest, but it was not far to the wicket. The latch clicked, and, breathing quickly, she entered the garden, the damp dew-laden grass of which struck icy cold through her thin stockings. All the time the fiery eye still gleamed across at her. For a moment it seemed as if a lid had dropped over it, but then it appeared again in a somewhat darker corner. One instant she almost decided to turn round, but the next she was ashamed of her cowardice and began to hurry straight towards the suspicious object, at the top of her speed. Then suddenly a dog barked, and a voice that made her heart stand still, cried-- "Who is there?" She was so terrified that she could neither speak nor move a step backwards or forwards. As if glued to the spot, she stood there till Leo, the dog, with a friendly whine, pressed his damp nose into the palm of her hand. "Who the devil is there?" the voice called out once more, and then _his_ figure rose up like that of a huge Hun and began to stride towards the tree that she crouched behind. "It's only me," she gasped chokingly. "Child, you! Why aren't you in bed?" "I couldn't sleep." "And so are running about out-of-doors late at night. Grandmamma ought to know this." He had caught hold of her hand, which in vain struggled to get free. The short pipe in his mouth emitted clouds of white smoke around her. Its glowing bowl had been the fiery eye which had blinked at her so suspiciously. "You are out yourself," she answered, biting her lips till her teeth ground together. "That is a different thing. I am a robust fellow who can stand all weathers." "So can I." "Now, now." "And if I can't, what does it matter? Nothing could be worse than my life is at present." He made a sound of pity with his tongue. "Child, child," he said, "are we beating our wings again?" "Oh, go away--leave me alone." And she warded him off with her elbows; she was not far from sobbing. "Don't begin the old game, Hertha; I haven't done anything to you for a long time." "No, that's true," she replied, "you haven't done anything to me, nothing at all either bad or good."