"Well, Zenz, what would you do?"
She was silent for a moment, and then suddenly let her arms fall close by her sides. It seemed as though a chill ran over her soft skin; she shook herself, and shrugged her white shoulders.
"What would I do?" she repeated, as though to herself. "Everything he wanted! And so it is better as it is--much better."
"You are a good girl, Zenz," he muttered, nodding his head slowly. "Come, there is my hand; shake hands, and I promise you now that there never shall be a word again between us of what you are not willing to hear."
CHAPTER II.
She was just about to lay her round, white little hand in his, which was rough and muddy from kneading the clay, when a knock at the door caused them both to look up and listen.
The janitor called out through the key-hole that a strange gentleman wished to speak with Herr Jansen. When he heard that the sculptor had a model sitting to him at the moment, he had asked the janitor to take in his card. With this the janitor pushed the card through a narrow hole in the door made for the purpose.
The sculptor, grumbling, went toward the threshold and picked up the card. "Felix, Freiherr von Weiblingen." He shook his head thoughtfully. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of joy. Under the printed name was written, with a pencil, "Icarus."
"A good friend of yours?" queried the girl.
He made no answer, but threw down his modeling-tool hastily, hurriedly wiped his hands on a towel, and hastened to the door again. As he opened it, he turned around.