u can help nothing." She stopped and put her hand to her
bosom. "Only death can help!" she cried, in a voice as if a physical
torture had its grip upon her; "and it is so awful when death alone can
help!" She looked at the ground and then up at him. "Oh," she sighed
miserably, "how can I dare to go where I may come to that pass again?
Don't ask that of me."

He turned his face away from her and she felt his fingers loosen, little
by little, their clasp upon her arm. Then he loosed her altogether, left
her side, moved away a space, and stood, his head bowed, his eyes bent
upon the water. There was a fearful horror of hopelessness in his
attitude.

Down from the Gasteig came a cab, an empty cab, and he looked up and
hailed it.

"We will ride home," he said, coming back to her; "I am bereft of
strength."

The cab halted and he put her inside.

"6 Maximiliansstrasse," he called to the driver, and got in himself and
banged the door behind him.

Then he threw himself back against the cushions, covered his eyes with
his hand, and remained silent and motionless the ten minutes that they
were _en route_.

She did not speak either; she dared not. The air was so heavy with
sorrow and despair that words would have seemed like desecration; and
the telepathic misery that emanated from him loaded her soul as if she
had been guilty of a crime.

When the cab stopped he opened the door, and as he turned to give her
his hand she caught one shocked glimpse of the grief in his face--of the
oddly drawn look of suffering in his half-closed eyes. The whole change
in him, in them, in it all, had come so quickly that as she stepped from
the cab she was conscious of a stunned sensation, a dazed lack of
feeling, a cold and stony power to bear much--for a little while.

"Go by the door," he said in muffled tones, "I must pay the cab."

She crossed the width of the sidewalk and stood by the great _porte_,
waiting.

When the cabman was disposed of he came to her side, and felt in his
pocket for the keys. Then he took his gloves off and felt again; as he
felt he stared steadily across the street.

"It's the round key," she said, when he finally produced them. "Have you
any tapers? I'm afraid that the hall will be dark."

He shrugged his shoulders as if tapers were of no earthly consequence in
such a time of stress. Then he fitted the key in the lock and swung back
the massive portal.

Because of that vast key system which is part of