's father!" whispered Dorothea. She was frightened. She ran up
the steps on her tiptoes, dragging her long veil after her. The maid
followed her.

"A devil, a regular little devil, _Maestro_," said Herr Carovius turning
to Daniel. "You must come in some time and hear how she can draw the
bow. She's a regular little devil, I say."

Daniel bade Herr Carovius adieu, and went walking down the street with
bowed head.

XII

In the province, Dorothea Doederlein, fresh from the Bavarian capital,
was a phenomenon that attracted general attention. Her conduct seemed,
to be sure, a bit liberal, but then she was an artist, and her name
appeared in the newspapers every now and then, so it was only natural to
make allowances for her. When she gave her first concert, Adler Hall was
almost completely sold out.

The musical critic of the _Herold_ was captivated by her capricious
playing. He called her an extraordinary talent, and predicted a
brilliant future for her. Andreas Doederlein accepted the congratulations
in the spirit of a seasoned patron of the arts; Herr Carovius was in the
seventh heaven of joy. He who had formerly been so captious never
uttered a critical word. He had taken to worshipping the Dorothea cult,
and this had made him quite indiscriminating.

At first Dorothea never suffered from want of invitations to all manner
of clubs, dances, and family gatherings. She was much adored by the
young men, so much so that other daughters of the city of matrimonial
age could not sleep from envy. In a short while, however, the youth of
more sterling character, warned while there was yet time by their
mothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts, withdrew in fear.

Dorothea reaped the disapproval of her acquaintances by walking with her
admirers in public, unchaperoned. Moreover she could frequently be seen
in the company of officers in the Eisenbeiss pastry shop, drinking
chocolate and having a good time generally. Once she had been seen in
the society of a big blonde Swede from Schuckert's factory coming out of
the Music Hall. The rumour was spread that she had lived an irregular
life in Munich, had gadded about the streets at night, contracted a
number of bad debts, and flirted with all kinds of men.

Yet there were a few serious wooers who, duped by Andreas Doederlein's
diplomacy, fell into the habit of coming around on Sunday evenings and
taking dinner with father and daughter. Dorothea, h