"No," said Bertha.

She knew this for a fact because Herr Rupius had told her so himself on
one occasion when she had called on him and his wife was in Vienna.

At that moment Herr Rupius seemed to her to be a particularly pitiful
figure, for, as he was being wheeled past her in his invalid's chair, she
had, in reading the paper, lighted upon the name of one whom she regarded
as a happy man.

Mechanically she read the paragraph again.

"Our celebrated compatriot Emil Lindbach returned to Vienna a few days
ago after his professional tour through France and Spain, in the course
of which he met with many a triumphant reception. In Madrid this
distinguished artist had the honour of playing before the Queen of Spain.
On the 24th of this month Herr Lindbach will take part in the charity
concert which has been organized for the relief of the inhabitants of
Vorarlberg, who have suffered such severe losses as a result of the
recent floods. A keen interest in the concert is being shown by the
public in spite of the fact that the season is so far advanced."

Emil Lindbach! It required a certain effort on Bertha's part to realize
that this was the same man whom she had loved--how many?--twelve years
ago. Twelve years! She could feel the hot blood mount up into her brow.
It seemed to her as though she ought to be ashamed of having gradually
grown older.

The sun had set. Bertha took Fritz by the hand, bade the others good
evening, and walked slowly homewards.