n there was a merry laugh.

The two rode unsuspectingly by, and long after their voices had died
away, Felix stood gazing listlessly after them in the darkness without
rousing himself from his thoughts.

It was he--Irene's uncle. But how did he come here? True, he had
distant relatives in Munich; but it was years since he had left off all
intercourse with them. Did he know, perhaps, that Felix was here in the
city? Was that why he had come, and had he perhaps brought his ward
with him? And even if it were all an accident--even the acquaintance
with Schnetz--must not he inevitably learn from the latter that the
fugitive had hidden himself here under the disguise of a sculptor's
blouse?

"What is the matter?" asked the girl, at last growing impatient. "Do
you know these gentlemen?"

"Ah! Yes," he answered, suddenly recalling where he was and with whom
he was standing here in the street. With a deep sigh he brought himself
back to the _role_ of protector to this poor child. He stammered a
meaningless remark about the breed of the horses and about skill in
riding, and once more offered Zenz the arm he had withdrawn in his
momentary confusion.

He led her thus across the street and into the house.

When they had reached his rooms, where the windows stood open toward
the garden, he hastened to light a lamp. And then he forced himself, in
his character of host, to show the now somewhat silent and shy girl the
arrangement of his rooms, and all the curiosities that he had brought
back from his travels. On the table lay a little Damascus dagger, which
she took up and looked at curiously. He told her how a young Spanish
lady had given it to him in Mexico. And then he remembered a bottle of
sherry that was standing in his closet, and brought it and drew the
cork.

"This is all the hospitality I can offer you," said he, still very
absently, setting down a full glass before her.

She shook her head, and could not be prevailed upon even to taste the
wine. And in all that she did she had grown very shy and timid, like a
young swallow that has flown into an inhabited room, and keeps close
pressed into a corner, where you can see the frightened heart beating
under its feathered breast.

"Will you not look and see whether you can make yourself comfortable on
the sofa?"

She did not answer, and sat still in a chair by the window, her hat
still on her head, and her shawl wrapped closely about her.

"A beautiful night," she sa