"Leaving that aside," said Sophie, in whom the inclination to laugh gradually became too strong, "how can you, Franz's best friend, and--at least I have looked upon you in that light until now--my best friend----"
"I shall remain your friend; I shall remain Franz's friend," cried Bemperlein with great animation. "Love and friendship shall both find room in my heart; they shall become only the purer, the deeper, the holier, the one through the other."
"But, Bemperly, how do you reconcile it with such a lofty Platonic love to lie on your knees like a Don Carlos? If Franz should at this moment come in at the door----"
"And if he came," cried Bemperlein, jumping up, "'il n'y a que le premier pas qui coûte.' I feel, now that I have spoken--that I have spoken to you--the courage to tell it to all the world. Franz will approve of my choice when he knows her as I know her."
"As you know me?"
"And you also will approve of it," cried Bemperlein, utterly unmindful of her interruption, and waving the cushion like a flag in the air; "you will be a friend and a sister to the poor girl; you will do it for my sake, because I love you and esteem you so very much; you will do it for her sake, for you may believe me, Miss Sophie, she deserves it."
"But whom do you mean, Bemperly?"
"I thought you knew long since," said Bemperlein, suddenly, half frightened; and then he added in a very low voice: "Marguerite Martin, the governess at Grenwitz!"
Fortunately, Bemperlein's excitement was too great to allow him to observe the confusion created by this announcement in Sophie's mind. The knot was cut most unexpectedly. She had been so near committing a great folly by suspecting her friend of another great folly! And yet she was not quite free from a little disappointment that she was not the exclusive idol of Bemperlein! Such a feeling could of course only pass for an instant through Sophie's heart as a light breeze curls the mirror-like surface of a deep lake only in passing, and before Bemperlein had quite recovered his equanimity she was again wholly the sympathizing, prudent friend for whom Bemperlein had been longing in the anguish of his heart.
As to the fact that Bemperlein, quiet, old-maidish Bemperlein, had been seized with a passion--that did not surprise her so much. Her main apprehension was, that the modest, unsuspecting man, who in spite of his thirty years was utterly inexperienced, might have fallen into the net of a coquette; and this fear was all the more serious as she had heard the brown eyes of Marguerite spoken of more than once in connection with events which seemed to confirm her suspicion. Her first question was, therefore,