“Do you mean it?”

“You said you wouldn’t give me up!”

“You know what you are doing?”

She made a motion of assent.

“But you don’t grasp what this means.  Things to bear that you know nothing of—­hunger perhaps!  Think, even hunger!  And your people won’t forgive—­you’ll lose everything.”

She shook her head.

“I must choose—­it’s one thing or the other.  I can’t give you up!  I should be afraid!”

“But, dear; how can you come with me?  We can’t be married here.”

“I am giving my life to you.”

“You are too good for me,” said Harz.  “The life you’re going into—­may be dark, like that!” he pointed to the window.

A sound of footsteps broke the hush.  They could see a figure on the path below.  It stopped, seemed to consider, vanished.  They heard the sounds of groping hands, of a creaking door, of uncertain feet on the stairs.

Harz seized her hand.

“Quick!” he whispered; “behind this canvas!”

Christian was trembling violently.  She drew her hood across her face.  The heavy breathing and ejaculations of the visitor were now plainly audible.

“He’s there!  Quick!  Hide!”

She shook her head.

With a thrill at his heart, Harz kissed her, then walked towards the entrance.  The curtain was pulled aside.

It was Herr Paul, holding a cigar in one hand, his hat in the other, and breathing hard.

“Pardon!” he said huskily, “your stairs are steep, and dark! mais en, fin! nous voila!  I have ventured to come for a talk.”  His glance fell on the cloaked figure in the shadow.

“Pardon!  A thousand pardons!  I had no idea!  I beg you to forgive this indiscretion!  I may take it you resign pretensions then?  You have a lady here—­I have nothing more to say; I only beg a million pardons for intruding.  A thousand times forgive me!  Good-night!”

He bowed and turned to go.  Christian stepped forward, and let the hood fall from her head.

“It’s I!”

Herr Paul pirouetted.

“Good God!” he stammered, dropping cigar and hat.  “Good God!”

The lantern flared suddenly, revealing his crimson, shaking cheeks.

“You came here, at night!  You, the daughter of my wife!” His eyes wandered with a dull glare round the room.

“Take care!” cried Harz:  “If you say a word against her—–­”

The two men stared at each other’s eyes.  And without warning, the lantern flickered and went out.  Christian drew the cloak round her again.  Herr Paul’s voice broke the silence; he had recovered his self-possession.

“Ah! ah!” he said:  “Darkness!  Tant mieux!  The right thing for what we have to say.  Since we do not esteem each other, it is well not to see too much.”

“Just so,” said Harz.

Christian had come close to them.  Her pale face and great shining eyes could just be seen through the gloom.