"Allow me to say," returned the Professorin, "that in my case this would be a breach of faith. I have nothing left in the world but fidelity to myself."
"You fill me with admiration," said Sonnenkamp, hoping to gain his point by expressions of admiring respect.
He was obliged to assume a gracious and smiling exterior while inwardly chafing, for the Professorin was immovable. There was an imploring manner about him; as if he would say: I know no way of help but through you; yet he found himself unable to put it into words.
The Professorin felt that she must do something kind to the poor rich man, must give him something to restore his cheerfulness and courage, and with hearty sincerity she said,—
"Let me express to you the thanks of the hundreds whom you have fed and comforted. You have made me very happy by employing me as the medium of your benefactions, and I desire that you should feel yourself the source of happiness to others."
With great animation she described the excellent order into which the neighborhood had been brought, and how her help had not waited for sickness, either physical or moral, but had helped forward those who were sound. She told so many beautiful and touching incidents, that Sonnenkamp could only stammer out as he gazed at her:
"It is all well—very well—I thank you."
He once more gave her his hand and left the room. At the front door he encountered Fräulein Milch, but hurried by almost without looking at her.
Fräulein Milch found the Professorin washing her hands with all her might, as if she feared she should never wash them clean from the man's touch.
"Did he tell you he was to be raised to the ranks of the nobility?" asked the Fräulein.