‘Oh, to wander about indefinitely–_auf eine Reise in’s Blaue_, as my own people would say. I am not going alone. A friend of mine, an artist, Rupert Schwermuth, goes with me, or rather, I offered to join him when I heard he was intending to travel and study. He means to go to Greece amongst other places, China, and Japan: he raves about Japanese art. I am going to rough it with him, by way of a change.’ Sara found she had absolutely nothing to answer to this. To object would, she felt, be worse than absurd; to say she was glad would not be true, for with the knowledge that he was going so far away, came a sudden chill sense of prospective loneliness and desolation; yet she must say something, she felt, and at last managed to stammer out: ‘I think you do wisely. I hope you will enjoy your tour. But ... will you write to me?’ ‘If you wish it,’ he said. ‘You seem tired; take my arm. Do you mean just bulletins from the successive stages of the journey, or do you mean something more like letters?’ ‘I mean letters. I should like them exceedingly. I hope you will write.’ ‘I will write. And you–will you answer my letters?’ ‘What news can I possibly have to send from here?’ said Sara, slowly. ‘Tell me what you do every hour, from the time you get up till the time you go to bed, if you have no other news. It is not fair that it should be all on one side. And if you are anxious for letters, what shall I be, do you suppose?’ ‘I will write,’ said Sara, in a rather low tone. ‘That is decided, then. Now, do you mind coming into the house, for my time is short, and I want to tell you something about money-matters.’ They went into the house, sat down at the writing-table, and Herr Falkenberg from his breast-pocket drew forth a cheque-book. ‘Do you see this?’ he said. ‘I have left directions with them at the bank to honour all your cheques, so long as you don’t overdraw my private account,’ he added, smiling. ‘And this little book is to procure you the means of subsistence while I am away.’ ‘I will not be extravagant,’ said Sara. ‘No, don’t, or I shall of course be exceedingly displeased. “Freely, but not extravagantly,” is an excellent motto; and you were born to devise and carry into execution schemes of economy.’ ‘Now you are laughing at me,’ said Sara. ‘Sometimes I cannot help it.’ ‘But why do you do it?’ she asked, piqued. ‘Heaven forbid that I should tell you why. You would never give me the chance of doing it again, and that would afflict me sorely. Now I must go,’ he added, looking at his watch, and rising. ‘Go! No, you will stay for the Mittagessen, at least. You have never taken a meal in this house since I came into it–you, the master of it.’ ‘I wish I could stay. But you see, Rupert was to meet me—’ ‘Let him wait!’ said Sara, with a heightened colour. ‘Rudolf, I beg you to remain. You are not starting off to-day. Please do remain till afternoon.’