perhaps others were looking everywhere for me, I sat up in the attic of
an old friend not far from that shop--the only friend I had, an
asthmatic sempstress who used often to buy cough-lozenges from me, and
got fond of me because I would put in a stitch for her now and then.
The poor thing when at her worst was unable for weeks together to earn
anything. It was at her door that I knocked in the night, and actually
I remained a couple of months hidden there, for no one concerned
himself about her, and I used to help her with her sewing, and to cook
our frugal meals; but at last I could no longer endure life in such a
cage. I had saved a little money, and meant to cross over into France,
where no one would have known me. But I was stopped on the way, there
was something wrong in my passport, and so I was of course transported
back like a vagrant; and here in Berlin--but we will say nothing about
it. I already feel that nausea coming back, and here is our supper, and
I must not let that be spoiled."

He poured out for her a glass of the wine the waiter had brought, and
pledged her. "Thou and I," he whispered gently.

"No, thou alone," she replied, and sipped at the glass.

"Is the Rhine wine too strong for thee?" asked he. "Shall I order
Champagne?"

She shook her head vehemently. "I could not touch a drop of it. I drank
it too early, and in too bad company. But you must eat with me if I am
to enjoy my supper."

He put something on his plate, though he could not get a morsel down,
and kept watching her while she did full justice to their simple meal.
Her hair was cut as short as ever, her dress was quite as plain, her
form so full and so supple that each movement she made was enchanting
to contemplate. Every now and then she apologized for her appetite.

"It is only," she said, "because I am for once happy, and everything is
so good, and we are so delightfully alone--you and I. There"--and she
put a bit of game from her plate on to his--"you must positively eat
that, or I shall believe you have a horror of eating from the same dish
even as I. If things had been different, and we could really have
travelled off together through the world--that would have been
beautiful! But it cannot be, and some day you will be happy with some
one else, and she with you; lots are very unequally divided, and one
must put up with one's own till it gets too bad. But do pour me out
some wine--I drank that last glass off unconsciously.