"How very kind of the young ladies to think of me!" he said.
Lilly remembered the flowers that she held in her hand. "Will you accept these?" she asked, offering them to him.
He took the bunch of roses and held them against his face without a word of thanks.
"They have no smell," he remarked. "They are the last roses, but my first, so you can imagine how much I appreciate them."
Lilly's eyes grew dim with delight. "Are you still in great pain, Dr. Mälzer?" she stammered forth.
He laughed. "Pain? ... Oh dear no! I am feverish now and then, that's all. It's quite amusing to be feverish. One's soul floats away in an airship far away over cities, land, and sea, over centuries; one is visited by distinguished persons, if not so beautiful as----"
He paused in the middle of his compliment, thinking of their relations as master and pupil. His confusion seemed to clear his vision. He fixed his eyes, which burned like two flames in blue cavities, on her and asked in a voice which sounded higher pitched and hoarser than usual:
"What's your name?"
"I am Lilly--Lilly Czepanek."
The name conveyed nothing to him, because he had not lived long in the town.