“Shall I?” I said, wistfully. “Shall I indeed?”
And he said—“Ay, indeed.”
But I felt, somehow, that it would never come to pass.
After this, we got up and walked on again, very silently; he thinking of the new life before him; I, of the sorrow of parting. By-and-by, a sudden recollection flashed upon me.
“But, Monsieur Maurice,” I exclaimed, “who was the brown man that stood behind your chair last night, and what has become of him?”
Monsieur Maurice turned his face away.
“My dear little Gretchen,” he said, hastily, “there was no brown man. He existed in your imagination only.”
“But I saw him!”
“You fancied you saw him. The room was dark. You were half asleep in the easy chair—half asleep, and half dreaming.”
“But Hartmann saw him!”