Christian remained with the woman, who looked down silently and angrily. Her fingers scratched at her riband. Christian listened to the beating of the tower-clock. It struck two. At last Crammon reappeared. He beckoned from a distance and cried: “Ready.” Christian addressed the girl for the first time. “We’ve found a shelter for you,” he said, a little throatily, and, quite contrary to his wont, blinked his eyes. His own voice sounded disagreeably in his ears. “You can stay there for some days.” She looked at him with eyes that glowed with hatred. An indescribable but evil curiosity burned in her glance. Then she lowered her eyes again. Christian was forced to speak again: “I think you will be safe from that man there. Try to rest. Perhaps you are ill. We could summon a physician.” She laughed a soft, sarcastic laugh. Her breath smelt of whiskey. Crammon called out again. “Come on then,” Christian said, mastering his aversion with difficulty. His voice and his words made the same overwhelming impression on her that his appearance had done. She started to go as though she were being propelled from behind. A sleepy porter in slippers stood at the door of the inn. His servile courtesy proved that Crammon had known how to treat him. “Number 14 on the second floor is vacant,” he said. “Send some one to your lodgings to-morrow for your things,” Crammon advised the girl. She did not seem to hear him. Without a word of thanks or greeting she followed the porter up the soiled red carpet of the stairs. The rubber cherries tapped audibly against the brim of her hat. Her clumsy form disappeared in the blackness. Crammon breathed a sigh of relief. “My kingdom for a four-wheeler,” he moaned. At a nearby corner they found a cab. XXI When Christian entered his room and switched on the electric light, he was surprised to find Johanna sitting at the table. She shaded her eyes from the sudden glare. He remained at the door. His frown disappeared when he saw the deadly pallor of the girl’s face. “I must leave,” Johanna breathed. “I’ve received a telegram and I must start for Vienna at once.” “I am about to leave, too,” Christian answered. For a while there was silence. Then Johanna said: “Shall I see you again? Will you want me to? Dare I?” Her timid questions showed the old division of her soul. She smiled a smile of patience and renunciation. “I shall be in Berlin,” Christian answered. “I don’t know yet where I shall live. But whenever you want to know, ask Crammon. He is easily reached. His two old ladies send him all letters.” “If you desire it, I can come to Berlin,” Johanna said with the same patient and resigned smile. “I have relatives there. But I don’t think that you do desire it.” Then, after a pause, during which her gentle eyes wandered aimlessly, she said: “Then is this to be the end?” She held her breath; she was taut as a bow-string.