restlessly to and fro. Then he seized his violin and wove all the
melodies be had heard from Isabella's lips into one. His music had
rarely sounded so soft, and then so fierce and passionate, and his
mother, who heard it in the kitchen, turned the twirling-stick faster and
faster, then thrust it into the firmly-tied dough, and rubbing her hands
on her apron, murmured:

"How it wails and exults! If it relieves his heart, in God's name let
him do it, but cat-gut is dear and it will cost at least two strings."

Towards evening Wilhelm was obliged to go to the drill of the military
corps to which he belonged. His company was ordered to mount guard at
the Hoogewoort Gate. As he marched through Nobelstrasse with it, he
heard the low, clear melody of a woman's voice issuing from an open
window of the Hoogstraten mansion. He listened, and noticing with a
shudder how much Henrica's voice--for the singer must be the young lady
--resembled Isabella's, ordered the drummer to beat the drum.

The next morning a servant came from the Hoogstraten house and gave
Wilhelm a note, in which he was briefly requested to come to Nobelstrasse
at two o'clock in the afternoon, neither earlier nor later.

He did not wish to say "yes"--he could not say "no," and went to the
house at the appointed hour. Henrica was awaiting him in the little room
adjoining the hall. She looked graver than the day before, while heavier
shadows under her eyes and the deep flush on her cheeks reminded Wilhelm
of Belotti's fears for her health. After returning his greeting, she
said without circumlocution, and very rapidly:

"I must speak to you. Sit down. To be brief, the way you greeted me