end, when I told her, did
not think anything of it--and she could come with me. But that is
decided--it would make me so that I never could look anybody straight
in the face again. No--no--no! I will not do it--now or ever!"

"You are right, child," interrupted the sculptor, breaking in on her
excited words and, suddenly changing the form of his speech into the
more familiar "thou." "Nobody need know of it, and, if it is
disagreeable to you, I will not speak of it again. And yet--it's a
pity! I could make the figure from a single mould, so to speak; and in
half the time that I shall have to spend now in looking about for
something that will suit."

She made no answer, but of her own accord mounted upon the bench, and
leaned back again, hanging from the rod.

"Is that right?" she asked. "Am I standing just as I did before?"

He only nodded, without looking up at her.

"What makes you cross with me?" she asked, after a while. "I cannot
help it because I am not like my friend. To be sure, she has had a
great deal more experience than I. And then she has been in love more
than once."

"Have you never had a sweetheart, Zenz?"

"No; a real sweetheart, such as one would go through the fire
for--never! My red hair didn't have very good fortune out in Salzburg,
where I have generally lived. And, besides, I was too ugly. One of them
said I had a dog's face. It has only been within the last year, when I
have suddenly shot up a little, and grown a little stouter, that the
gentlemen have sometimes run after me; and with one of them--a right
nice young fellow--I had a kind of a flirtation. But he was so silly
that he tired me; and so it hadn't gone far between us when one fine
day he fell sick and died. And it was only then that I found I couldn't
have loved him so very, very much; for I didn't even cry about him.
Since then I have taken good care not to make a fool of myself again.
Men are bad; everybody says that that knows anything. As for me, if I
liked one--if I really liked him, 'von Herzen, mit Schmerzen'--"

"Well, Zenz, what would you do?"

She was silent for a moment, and then suddenly let her arms fall close
by her sides. It seemed as though a chill ran over her soft skin; she
shook herself, and shrugged her white shoulders.

"What would I do?" she repeated, as though to herself. "Everything he
wanted! And so it is better as it is--much better."

"You are a good girl, Zenz," he muttered, nodding his head slowl