"And now let us think no more of it," Olga cried, her mood changing to one of gayety.
She ran over to the door, turned and faced Karl, knocking loudly on the panel.
"Now for work; we have done nothing," she said. "Monsieur, I have come to have my portrait painted."
"Come in, madame," Karl said, bowing gravely and entering into her play. "Good-morning."
"I have come to have my portrait painted," Olga said again.
Karl forgot the playing and exclaimed seriously:
"Ah, last night I made a memory sketch of you after I got home. I have made many, very many, but now I see you differently."
"Why?" Olga asked, startled again by his vehemence.
"Yesterday I saw the lines of your figure; to-day I see your soul," he said. "Yesterday you were a model; to-day you are an inspiration."
"Please, Karl; please, don't; we agreed to end everything," she pleaded.