“I feel quite in despair about it.  How could I be so blind, so stupid?”

“Never mind; it is not all over yet.  I know Malvine.  She is a simple-minded girl, without a bit of sentiment in her, mentally and morally healthy.  If she knew she had nothing to expect from you, I am perfectly certain that nothing would stand in the way of my happiness.”

“I will do whatever you wish—­and first of all, I must put a stop to my visits there.”

“I must ask more from you than that, my poor Wilhelm.  Merely staying away is too passive.  You must act.  I want you to talk to Malvine, and somehow explain to her that you don’t love her.”

“How can I possibly do that?” cried Wilhelm, really startled.  “I should have no right!  If she laughed in my face and called me a fool and a lout, I should feel I deserved it.”

“You ought to know that she would not do that.  I know I am asking a very unusual thing, and a very difficult thing, but I feel I can ask such a sacrifice from your friendship.”

As Wilhelm did not immediately answer, Paul said, seizing his hand: 

“Once more, Wilhelm, if you have any thought of Malvine, I will not stand in your way.”

“But, Paul—­”

“And perhaps I ought to wish it for you; Malvine is a good, dear girl, and will make the man who marries her happy all his life.”

“Don’t say any more; I have already told you that she is sacred to me as your fiancee, and beside, I should have no claim on her, even if I did not know how you stand with regard to her.”

“Well, then, you must help me to reclaim her from her mistake.  You alone can do it, and I am sure that later—­very soon, in fact, she will be grateful to you.”

Wilhelm was silent, looking at Paul in anxious suspense.  At last, with a deep sigh, he said: 

“Well, if I must—–­”

“You are a brick,” cried Paul, and embraced him before the passers-by, who turned round to look at them with astonishment.

On the next day, at twelve o’clock, Wilhelm rang at the Markers’ flat in the Lutzowstrasse.  Through the little peephole he caught a glimpse of some one, then the door flew open, a maid ushered him into the drawing-room, and without waiting for him to speak, said: 

“Frau Brohl is in the kitchen; I will fetch her.”

“Thank you,” said Wilhelm, rather feebly; “there is no hurry.  Is—­ is—­the Fraulein at home?”

The girl was already at the door, and turning round, stared at Wilhelm with astonished eyes.

“Yes; shall I say that you would like to speak to her?”

Wilhelm nodded, and the girl went out.  After a short pause Malvine stood before him, offering him her white hand, with its short fingers, while her face flushed to the roots of her hair.

“Might I speak to you, Fraulein?” he said, in a low, constrained voice.