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She turned and stood at the window and looked at Cordt. He had moved his chair round towards the fireplace. She could see nothing of him but one shoulder and arm, his thick hair and his legs.

“The carriage is there,” she said.

He rose and went to her.

“You must not be angry with me,” he said, gently. “I am out of sorts.”

“Are you ill?”

“Yes ... perhaps.... No, not that.”

“Well, for all that I care, we can stay at home. You have spoilt my pleasure.”

“Have I?”

“Of course you have. It was for you I made myself look so nice ... it was with you I wanted to go out.”

“Was it?”

He took her hand and drew her to the fire:

“Sit down, Adelheid ... there ... only for a minute. Shall we stay at home to-night ... get some wine ... have a party of our own...?”

“Yes ... you’re in such a festive mood!”

“Now be good, Adelheid. You are my only dissipation.... You know you are ... there have been hundreds of delightful days to prove it. If you are of my mind to-night, we will do this. And you will be beautiful for me and I for you and our eyes will sparkle together.”