The first story in the Hoogstraten mansion was brightly lighted, but in the second a faint, steady glow streamed into Nobelstrasse from a single window, while she for whom the lamp burned sat beside a table, her eyes sparkling with a feverish glitter, as she pressed her forehead against the marble top.  Henrica was entirely alone in the wide, lofty room her aunt had assigned her.  Behind curtains of thick faded brocade was her bedstead, a heavy structure of enormous width.  The other articles of furniture were large and shabby, but had once been splendid.  Every chair, every table looked as if it had been taken from some deserted banqueting-hall.  Nothing really necessary was lacking in the apartment, but it was anything but home-like and cosey, and no one would ever have supposed a young girl occupied it, had it not been for a large gilt harp that leaned against the long, hard couch beside the fireplace.

Henrica’s head was burning but, though she had wrapped a shawl around her lower limbs, her feet were freezing on the uncarpeted stone floor.

A short time after the three gentlemen had entered her aunt’s house, a woman’s figure ascended the stairs leading from the first to the second story.  Henrica’s over-excited senses perceived the light tread of the satin shoes and the rustle of the silk train, long before the approaching form had reached the room, and with quickened breathing, she sat erect.

A thin hand, without any preliminary knock, now opened the door and old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten walked up to her niece.

The elderly dame had once been beautiful, now and at this hour she presented a strange, unpleasing appearance.

The thin, bent figure was attired in a long trailing robe of heavy pink silk.  The little head almost disappeared in the ruff, a large structure of immense height and width.  Long chains of pearls and glittering gems hung on the sallow skin displayed by the open neck of her dress, and on the false, reddish-yellow curls rested a roll of light-blue velvet decked with ostrich plumes.  A strong odor of various fragrant essences preceded her.  She herself probably found them somewhat overpowering, for her large glittering fan was in constant motion and fluttered violently, when in answer to her curt:  “Quick, quick,” Henrica returned a resolute “no, ‘ma tante.’”

The old lady, however, was not at all disconcerted by the refusal, but merely repeated her “Quick, quick,” more positively, adding as an important reason: 

“Monseigneur has come and wants to hear you.”

“He does me great honor,” replied the young girl, “great honor, but how often must I repeat:  I will not come.”

“Is it allowable to ask why not, my fair one?” said the old lady.

“Because I am not fit for your society,” cried Henrica vehemently, “because my head aches and my eyes burn, because I can’t sing to-day, and because—­because—­because—­I entreat you, leave me in peace.”