"Then promise me, in this supreme moment, that you will never again ask me what your father's words meant. It is not my secret but his, and I could not in honour betray it even to you. But I swear solemnly that it is the only secret that shall ever be between us,--no thought of my heart shall be concealed from you. Will you not trust me? Believe me, I but obey the dictates of honour when I beg you to forget what you have heard. Will you promise me never to question either myself or your father upon the subject?" "This kiss shall seal the promise that you ask!" Leo had conducted the guests to the garden, there to await Paul and Hilda; he tried to engage them in pleasant talk, but he could not fairly succeed, for his thoughts would wander. They were with his friend, the change in whom he could easily interpret, for he knew that Paul had just had an interview with Dr. Putzer; and that the result had been a happy one for Hilda's lover, was plainly to be seen in his sparkling eyes and gay mood. And Paul had also had an interview with Bertram, which must have been satisfactory, or he would hardly have uttered the laughing remark about the treasures in his pockets. What did he mean? He had glanced so meaningly as he spoke, first at Eva and then at Leo. Heydeck was restless and impatient,--he guessed that one short hour might decide his fate, and yet he could not understand how the decision could be fortunate for him. He could conceive but of one happy future, and that seemed unattainable. He loved Eva with a passionate devotion which the familiar intercourse of the past few weeks had deepened tenfold. He knew that his love was returned, although no word that could betray his devotion to her had ever passed his lips. He had never transgressed the bounds of friendship, nor had she ever given him the slightest right to do so. The consciousness that she was not indifferent towards him enchanted him, but at the same time it filled him with a despair that would often wellnigh overcome him when he was alone in his room standing in rapt contemplation of the picture,--the work not of his hand but of his heart. Eva's dark eyes gazed at him from the canvas with a look that seemed to promise the fulfilment of his boldest hopes, and in gazing he was sometimes beguiled into delicious dreams, from which he was startled by the consciousness of reality, and a stern voice within him crying, "Lost, lost forever!" He knew that Paul could force Bertram to resign all pretensions to Eva's hand, but even if Eva should be free she was still lost to him. Could he, a poor artist, whose future life must be one of hard labour, aspire to the hand of the millionaire heiress? He had sacrificed to his principles a brilliant military career, his entire future, and even his father's affections. Could he be untrue to himself now? Honour forbade his ever addressing a word of love to Eva Schommer,--she was too rich!