"Why, Emil, you haven't brought your umbrella with you!"

"Won't you take me under yours? Wait a moment, it won't do like this."

He took the umbrella out of her hand, held it over both of them, and thrust his arm under hers. Now she felt that it was _his_ arm, and rejoiced greatly.

"The country, unfortunately, is out of the question," he said.

"What a pity."

"Well, what have you been doing with yourself all day long?"

She told him about the fashionable restaurant, in which she had had her dinner.

"Now, why on earth didn't I know about that? I thought you were dining with your cousin. We might, of course, have had such a pleasant lunch together!"

"You have had so much to do, I dare say," she said, a little proud at being able to infuse a slight tone of sarcasm into her voice.

"Yes, that's true, in the afternoon, of course. I had to listen to half an opera."

"Oh? How was that, then?"

"There was a young composer with me--a very talented fellow, in his own way."

She was very glad to hear that. So that, then, was the way in which he spent his afternoons.

He stood still and, without letting go her arm, looked into her face.

"Do you know that you have really grown much prettier? Yes, I am quite serious about it! But, tell me, first of all, tell me candidly, how the idea came to you to write to me."

"Why, I have already told you."

"Have you thought of me, then, all this time?"

"A great deal."

"When you were married, too?"

"Certainly, I have always thought of you. And you?"

"Often, very often."

"But ..."

"Well, what?"

"You are a man, you see!"

"Yes--but what do you mean by that?"

"I mean that certainly you must have loved many women."

"Loved ... loved ... yes, I suppose I have."

"But I," she broke out with animation, as though the truth was too strong to be restrained within her; "I have loved no one but you."

He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

"I think we might rather leave that undecided, though," he said.

"Look, I have brought some violets with me for you."

He smiled.

"Are they to prove that you have told me the truth? Anybody would think, from the way in which you said that, that you have done nothing else since we last met but pluck, or, at least, buy, violets for me. However, many thanks! But tell me, why didn't you want to get into the carriage?"

"Oh, but you know, a walk is so nice."

"But we can't walk forever.... We are having supper together, though?"

"Yes, I shall be delighted--for instance, here in an hotel," she added hastily.

At that time they were walking through quieter streets, and it was growing dusk.

Emil laughed.

"Oh, no, we will arrange things a little more cosily than that."

Bertha cast her eyes down.

"However, we mustn't sit at the same table as strangers," she said.

"Certainly not. We will even go somewhere where there is n.o.body else at all."

"What are you thinking of?" she asked. "I don't do that sort of thing!"

"Just as you please," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Have you an appet.i.te yet?"

"No, not at all."

They were both silent for a time.

"Shall I not make the acquaintance of your boy some day?" he asked.

"Certainly," she replied, greatly pleased; "whenever you wish."

She began to tell him about Fritz, and then went on to speak about her family. Emil threw in a question at times, and soon he knew all that happened in the little town, even down to the efforts of Klingemann, of which Bertha gave him an account, laughingly, but with a certain satisfaction.

The street lamps were alight; the rays glittered on the damp pavements.