Did Eva really fail to understand the new feeling which had seized her
so swiftly and powerfully? Did she lull herself in the delusion that
she cared only for the welfare of the soul of the pious young knight?

Yes, it might be so, and prudent Els, who had watched her own little
world intently enough, said to herself that it would be pouring oil upon
the flames to tease Eva about the defeat which she, the "little saint,"
had sustained in the battle against the demands of the world and of the
feminine heart. Besides, her sister was too dear for her to rejoice in
her humiliation. Els resolved not to utter a word about the Swiss unless
compelled to do so.

Eva's prayers before retiring were often very long, but to-night it
seemed as if they would never end.

"She is not appealing to St. Clare for herself alone, but for another,"
thought Els. "I spend less time in doing it. True, a Heinz Schorlin
needs longer intercession than my Eva, my Wolff, and my poor pious
mother. But I won't disturb her yet."

Sighing faintly, she changed her position, but remained sitting propped
against the white pillows in order not to allow herself to be overcome by
sleep. But it was a hard struggle, and her lids often fell, her head
drooped upon her breast.

Dawn was already glimmering without when the supplicant at last rose and
sought her couch. Her sister let her lie quietly for a while, then she
rose and put out the lamp which Eva had forgotten to extinguish. The
latter noticed it, turned her face towards her and called her gently.
"To think that you should have to get up again, my poor Els! Give me