Baluzzi, bowing politely, gave him a card. "Then our _prime-donne_ are allied to Italian _bravi_? They possess a little robber's cave close to their drawing-rooms? Is truth to be cudgelled? You are mistaken, sir! We shall not allow ourselves to be intimidated, we will even expose the matter in a trenchant article, and as far as Signora Giulia is concerned--you have broken my eye-glasses, sir! I shall now make use of a magnifying lens, which not the smallest failing can escape, and if hitherto I have beaten her with rods, I will now scourge her with scorpions." Salomon meanwhile had picked up the crutches for the critic, who during his angry speech had supported himself upon the table; he now limped out of the room, followed by the students, whose cries of "Bravo Spiegeler" accompanied him, for they looked upon the critic as a species of clown, who first in newspapers, then in inn parlours, performed somersaults for the general amusement. Blanden had looked on at the scene in a divided frame of mind; the reporter's remarks had roused his indignation, but the Italian's brutality not less so, and indeed he had always felt the most decided aversion for the amber merchant. Especially odious did the man appear, because he stood in some dark relation to Giulia, as the violence proved with which he had maltreated one of her opponents. As Blanden stood there lost in thought, and weighed his intention of questioning the Signora about this person, who even on the Lago Maggiore had followed her like a shadow, Kätchen stepped up to him, and whispered she had now a moment's time, he should go with her. They groped their way along a gloomy corridor into the yard, whose dark square was not illuminated by any reflection of light from out the dull little windows, which opened into it on four sides. Kätchen looked like a night-goblin in the dim snow-light, she sprang on in advance, and danced as if in insane gladness. Suddenly she moved the pump handle: some time elapsed before the pump awoke out of its winter sleep. Kätchen then, however, did not merely wash her hands, she bent down and let the icy cold water trickle over her head, and dried herself with the shawl which she had thrown about her neck. Then she led her companion up the stairs of the building at the back, it was a break-neck staircase, uneven steps, unusual windings; she counted the steps, gave her hand to Blanden, and he remarked that she squeezed his, and pressed it to her heart, and in one of the narrow bends nestled up to him, and her still dripping hair wetted his bosom. They ascended three flights; he had to stoop beneath the beams of the sloping roof. Kätchen opened a creaking door that moved with difficulty upon its hinges. Then she begged Blanden to wait until she had struck a light, yet she hesitated in doing so, nestled beseechingly against him, stroked his hair until he shook the caressing witch angrily from him.