But what would
you? As I remarked to him afterwards--dear friend, it amounts to this:
if one wishes to satisfy the desires of nature one must be strong enough
to ignore the facts of nature... The conversation is not out of your
depth? I have so seldom the time or opportunity to open my heart to a
woman that I am apt to forget."

I looked at him brightly.

"See what a fat one!" cried the Herr Professor. "That is almost a
mouthful in itself; it is beautiful enough to hang from a watch-chain."
He chewed it up and spat the stone an incredible distance--over the
garden path into the flower bed. He was proud of the feat. I saw
it. "The quantity of fruit I have eaten on this bench," he sighed;
"apricots, peaches and cherries. One day that garden bed will become
an orchard grove, and I shall allow you to pick as much as you please,
without paying me anything."

I was grateful, without showing undue excitement.

"Which reminds me"--he hit the side of his nose with one finger--"the
manager of the pension handed me my weekly bill after dinner this
evening. It is almost impossible to credit. I do not expect you to
believe me--he has charged me extra for a miserable little glass of milk
I drink in bed at night to prevent insomnia. Naturally, I did not
pay. But the tragedy of the story is this: I cannot expect the milk to
produce somnolence any longer; my peaceful attitude of mind towards it
is completely destroyed. I know I shall throw myself into a fever in
attempting to plumb this want of generosity in so wealthy a man as the
manager of a pension. Think of me to-night."--he ground the empty bag
under his heel--"think that the worst is happening to me as your head
drops asleep on your pillow."

Two ladies came on the front steps of the pension and stood, arm in
arm, looking over the garden. The one, old and scraggy, dressed almost
entirely in black bead trimming and a satin reticule; the other, young
and thin, in a white gown, her yellow hair tastefully garnished with
mauve sweet peas.

The Professor drew in his feet and sat up sharply, pulling down his
waistcoat.

"The Godowskas," he murmured. "Do you know them? A mother and daughter
from Vienna. The mother has an internal complaint and the daughter is
an actress. Fraulein Sonia is a very modern soul. I think you would find
her most sympathetic. She is forced to be in attendance on her mother
just now. But what a temperament! I have once described her in her
autograph al