At Copenhagen he met Angelika Nagel again.  She was in company with two of his student friends.  She was in the highest spirits, glowing with health and beauty, and with that jaunty assurance which turns the heads of young men.

He had, during all this time, banished the subject of his intrigue from his mind, and he came there without the least intention of renewing it; but now, for the first time in his life, he became jealous!

It was quite a novel feeling, and he was not prepared to resist it.  He grew jealous if he so much as saw her in company with either of the young men.  She had a hearty outspoken manner, which rekindled his former passion.

Now a new phase of his life began, divided between furious jealousy and passionate devotion.  This led, after her departure, to an interchange of letters, which ended in his following her to Christiania.

On board the steamer he overheard a conversation between the steward and stewardess.  “She sat up for him of nights till she got what she wanted, and now she has got hold of him.”

It was possible that this conversation did not concern him, but it was equally possible that the woman might have been in the pension at Christiania.  He did not know her.

It is strange that in all such intrigues as his with Angelika the persons concerned are always convinced that they are invisible.  He believed that, up to this time, no human being had known anything about it.  The merest suspicion that this was not the case made it altogether loathsome.

The pension—­Angelika—­the letters.  He would be hanged if he would go on with it for any earthly inducement.  Had Angelika angled for him and landed him like a stupid fat fish?  He had been absolutely unsuspicious.  The whole affair had been without importance, until they met again at Copenhagen.  Perhaps that, too, had been a deep-laid plan.

Nothing can more wound a man’s vanity than to find that, believing himself a victor, he is in truth a captive.

Rafael paced the deck half the night, and when he reached Christiania went to an hotel, intending to go home the next day to Hellebergene, come what would.  This and everything of the kind must end for ever:  it simply led straight to the devil.  When once he was at home, and could find out where Helene was, the rest would soon be settled.

From the hotel he went up to Angelika Nagel’s pension to say that some luggage which was there was to be sent down to the hotel at once—­he was leaving that afternoon.

He had dined and gone up to his room to pack, when Angelika stood before him.  She was at once so pretty and so sad-looking that he had never seen anything more pathetic.

Had he really kept away from her house?  Was he going at once?

She wept so despairingly that he, who was prepared for anything rather than to see her so inconsolable, answered her evasively.