ingarella had been broken to pieces.

Without greeting a single person present, without even looking at a
single one of them, he stepped into the circle, knelt down, and tried to
put the broken pieces of the mask together. But there were too many
small shreds. The nose, the chin, parts of the glorious forehead, a
piece with the mouth arched in sorrow, another piece of the cheek--there
were too many; they could not be put together.

He hurled the fragments to one side, and straightened up. "Philippina!
The broom!" His command was given in a loud tone. And when Philippina
came in with the broom, he added: "Sweep the dirt up on a pile, and then
throw it in the garbage can."

Philippina swept up, while Daniel, as silent and unsocial on going as he
had been on coming, left the room.

Frau Feistelmann made an indignant face, Edward Hahn breathed through
his nose, Herr Samuelsky, a fat man with a red beard, made a
contemptuous remark, Dorothea, vexed and annoyed, stood and looked on
while the tears took their unrestrained course.

Benda had been waiting down at the front door. "She has broken my mask,"
said Daniel with a distorted smile, as he came down to his old friend,
"the mask you gave me. You remember! Strange that it should have been
broken to-day of all days, the very day you come to see me after so long
a separation."

"Possibly it can be glued together again," said Benda, trying to console
Daniel.

"I am not in favour of glueing things together," replied Daniel. His
eyes flashed green behind his glasses.

XVI

When the guests left, Philippina came in and cleaned up the room.
Dorothea sat on the sofa. Her hands were lying in her lap; she was
unusually serious.

"Why don't your American ever come to see us?" asked Philippina, without
apparent motive.

Dorothea was terrified. "Lock the door, Philippina," she whispered, "I
have something to tell you."

Philippina locked the door, and went over to the sofa. "The American has
to see me," continued Dorothea, as her eyes roamed about the room in
timid waywardness. "He says he wants to talk to me about something that
will be of very great importance to me the rest of my life. He is living
in a hotel, but I can't go to a hotel. It will not do to have him come
here, nor do I wish to be seen on the street with him. He has suggested
a place where we might meet, but I am afraid: I do not know the people.
Can't you help me out, Ph