"I am very sorry, I am very grateful; believe me I am, Herr Von Barwig, but—" she shook her head rapidly. She could not trust herself to speak.
"I—do—not—understand," he said, and his voice was almost inaudible, for his heart was beating so furiously that he could feel its palpitation. She could only shake her head in reply. Von Barwig suddenly found his voice, for he was desperate now.
"A moment ago we were here, good friends, and—" suddenly an idea occurred to him. "Some one has told you that I played at the Museum, the Dime Museum. Ah, is that Indeed so terrible? I do not play there from choice, believe me, dear—dear Fräulein! It is poverty."
"Yes, yes; I know, I know!" cried Hélène. She was nearly frantic now. "It is not your fault, but please, please, dear Herr Von Barwig, let us say no more! Good-bye," and she held out her hand, "good-bye! I hope better fortune may come to you."
"No better fortune can come if you—if you are not there," wailed Von Barwig. "You don't know—what I know; if you did you would realise that—" he paused. "I cannot stay away! It is simply impossible—I cannot!"
"You must," said Hélène firmly. "Please go! Don't you understand that it is as hard for me as it is for you?"
"Why do you so punish me?" pleaded Von Barwig. "For what? What have I done?"
"I am not punishing you, Herr Von Barwig. I— Don't ask me to explain! You must not call again. Please go; go! There, I've said it; I've said it!" cried Hélène in despair, and she walked to the window to hide her emotion.
Von Barwig looked at her in silence.
"Very well," he said after a few moments and then he looked around for his hat, which he always brought into the room with him.