sn't hurt at
all.

"You see," she continued, when he did not answer, "I shall never be
happy in this world; very few are, and it is all ordered beforehand. So
why should I look on patiently while my few young years pass miserably
away? There is no one to miss me when I am out of the world. And if it
is all the same to _me_ whether I live or not, what does it matter to
any one else?"

As she said these words, she involuntarily let go his arm, and stood
still again for a moment, to recover breath after her quick speech.

He seized her hand.

"Will you do something for my sake, Zenz?" he asked, tenderly--"a very
great favor? Will you promise me to do what I ask you?--to go with me
wherever I lead you? You know well enough that I mean well by you."

She looked at him inquiringly. Then she laid her other hand in his,
too. A blush mounted to her cheeks, as if from a sudden glad hope that
was almost like a shock.

"Do with me whatever you like!" she said, in an almost inaudible voice.
"I have no one in all the world but you. Kill me or make me happy, it
is all the same to me."

"Come then," he answered, taking her arm again. He knew very well what
thought it was that had sprung up within her, and that he must
disappoint her hope. But he left her in her delusion, so that she would
follow wherever he should lead.

They walked for a quarter of an hour, both in silence, through the
dark, deserted streets. At length he stood still before a house, in
whose upper story the windows were still lighted.

"Here!" he said.

She gave a start. "Have you moved?" she asked, regarding the house with
a look of surprise.

"Here lives the man, Zenz, to whom I want to bring you; he will care
for you better than I myself could, even if I were willing to take you
with me to a new world. You know whom I mean, child. You did not think
of him when you said no one would miss you when you were no longer in
the world. Do you remember him now? No," he continued, as she made a
movement to escape from him, "I won't let you go; you know what you
promised me. The old man sitting there up-stairs--if you only knew how
he longs to make up to you for the wrong he did to your poor mother; if
you only knew him, Zenz, as we all do--and now he sits there in his
lonely room this Christmas-night. The lieutenant has told me of all the
things he has brought together, so that he might have some presents
ready for his grandchild in case she should hit upon th