l never see again. If not you, Franz, is
it not possible that Karen may love another man one day? But it is you
that she will love; nay, it is you she loves. I know my Karen's heart.
Tell me, Franz, am I not right in what I say?"

For some time now Franz had been looking at her and her voice grew more
tender and more soft as she saw that he found no word of protest. He sat
upright, still, at intervals, running his fingers through his hair,
breathing deeply, near tears, yet arrested and appeased. And hope,
beautiful, strange hope, linking itself to the intuitions of the dawn
when he had sat above Karen's sleep, stole into his heart. Why could it
not be true? Why should not Karen come to love him? She would be with
him, free, knowing how deep and tender was his love for her, and that it
made no claim. Would not her heart answer his one day? And as if
guessing at his thoughts Madame von Marwitz added, the dimness of tears
in her own eyes: "See, my Franz, let it be in this wise. I bring Karen
to your mother in a few days; she will be strong enough for travel in a
few days, is it not so? She will then be with you and yours in Germany,
and I watching over you. So you will see her from day to day? So you
will gently mend the torn young heart and come to read it. And you may
trust a wise old woman, Franz, when I prophesy to you that Karen's heart
will turn and grow to yours. You may trust one wise in hearts when she
tells you that Karen is to be your loving wife."

She rose, and the sincerity of her voice was unfeigned. She was moved,
deeply moved, by the beauty of the pattern she wove. She was deeply
convinced by her own creation.

Franz, too, got up, stumbling.

"And now, Franz," she said, "we say _au revoir_. I have come and it is
not seemly that you remain here longer. You go to Germany to make ready
for us and I write to your mother to-day. Ah!--the dear Lise! Her heart
will rejoice! Where is your room, Franz, and where is Karen's?"

There were three doors in the little sitting-room. She had entered from
the passage by one. She looked now towards the others.

Franz opened one, it showed a flight of stairs. "Karen's room is up
those stairs," he said, closing it very softly. "And mine is here, next
this one where we are. We are very quiet, you see, and shut in to
ourselves. There is no other way to Karen's room but this, and her room
is at the back, so that no disturbance reaches her. I think that she
still sleeps, _gn