"Then I suppose the gardens of the castle interested him?" said Agenor.
"Certainly. Though he was never there."
"Why not?"
"He was not allowed. Admission is forbidden to Jews, as you will see on the board at the entrance. But do not think this embittered him. He always said: 'It is not the fault of the count; such a board stands on the park-gates of every castle in Podolia. If they should be removed, it would create great gossip.' Bergheimer is such a noble, gentle creature. He never dreamed of an exception being made in his favor, although he is so fond of flowers. 'Perhaps the gardener would allow it,' he used to say, 'but I do not wish for any advantages above my brethren.' And he was right."
"Then you, too, have never been in the garden?"
"Yes," she answered, blushing deeply. "I have often been there with Wanda and the burgomaster's daughters, and occasionally alone. The custodians know me, but they said nothing, and I was weak enough to be glad of it. I fancied I was superior to the others. But I have atoned! How I felt when I recognized--"
"By that scene in this house," he said, interrupting her. "I have only known since yesterday what an impression it must have made upon you, and a wrong one. Fräulein Judith! Believe me, this gulf--"
She listened intently, but he came to a stand. No, he could not, he ought not, lie.
"Well, the gulf?"
"Is not so deep, after all. But why talk about it? Your brother, then, is in Heidelberg!"