Among Sana’s various friends at the Stephanie was Herr Heinecke, a young German engineer. Heinecke was combining business with pleasure during his stay at the hotel. He had been sent to Baden-Baden to supervise an electrical development in the suburbs of the city, and took advantage of the opportunity to partake of the baths, the efficacy of whose waters are known the world over--in fact the Romans were aware of it, in the days that are gone, and spoke of the waters as Aquae Aurelias. But the waters and his work were not the only things to occupy his thoughts. There was Sana. If one could question his mind or seek out the innermost regions of his heart, Sana would loom up high above even his work. His work could be neglected, he reasoned with his conscience, but not Sana. She could not, would not be neglected. Even though she had already refused his offer of marriage he was determined to win her. Sana and he were at the Hotel Messmer, one afternoon, enjoying the music and refreshments, which were delightful. The hotel was a favored resort and attracted a large number of noblemen and people of wealth. Heinecke had just asked Sana a second time for her hand when she felt a strange sensation stealing over her. It was as if some power were seeking to enter her mind and control her body. Against her will she turned her head to look behind her. For a moment she stared in amazement. Her breath came in gasps. She sank back in her chair as though on the point of fainting, then finding her voice she shrieked “de Rochelle!” It was but too true. There at a table a few steps away sat de Rochelle, as forbidding as ever. He had seen her with Heinecke and resorting to the powers he had exercised of old, he concentrated his mind upon hers, while staring at the back of her head, thus drawing her attention to him. Heinecke, who was somewhat upset by this strange and unaccountable state of affairs, questioned Sana as to the cause. As briefly as possible and in a low trembling tone, Sana answered, “That man, the fourth table over, is François de Rochelle, who was once my sweetheart. He possesses a strange hypnotic influence over me and may cause me to commit rash acts. Even now I feel his power and I am afraid.” Sana’s companion looked over to de Rochelle, who did not once take his eyes from the girl, although he was aware that Heinecke was watching him. This attitude made even the phlegmatic Heinecke furious. As in the days when he was a member of a student’s corps, he was ready to fight a duel at a moment’s notice--the three scars on his right cheek bore mute testimony to this spirit of younger days. So calling a waiter he sent his card to de Rochelle. Rochelle well knew the intent of that action. He picked up the card, looked at it and with a sneering laugh, tore it into bits, tossing the scraps of paste-board back on the salver, in such a way that there was no mistaking his meaning.