"Run after him?" she repeated. "No, Fräulein, I should never think of such a thing; that would be stupid. For Black Theresa, where I used to live, has often told me that men only like a poor girl so long as they have to run after her. And because I didn't feel sure of myself, and knew that if I lived in the same city with him I could not live without seeing him and watching for him at the places where he usually went--so that I should grow hateful to him at last, while now he is at least kind to me--I came out here into the country and hired myself out as a waiter-girl in the inn over yonder. But you see for yourself I was not to get away from him; and now, when he lies at the point of death, all along of a silly thing like me, and needs my help--no, Fräulein, I didn't blame myself at all for having run after him, and I should consider myself a very bad and heartless girl indeed, if I thought anything about myself and what people might say. I would follow him through a forest of wild beasts just to nurse him, and why not into a house full of good friends of his, none of whom would bite me, just because all have seen that I don't do it for love of them, but only for the sake of him who doesn't care the least bit about me. There, now, don't be angry with me for having told you this right out. I must go back into the house and see whether Herr Kohle needs any fresh ice from the cellar. Shall I give him any message from you; tell him that you called, and hoped he would soon get well?"
Irene had turned away. She felt herself so put to shame by the nature of this girl, whom she had thought so far beneath her; her own behavior looked so mean, narrow, and selfish reflected in the mirror of this absolute, humble, joyful self-sacrifice, and the thought that she must relinquish to another the place at his sick-bed so cut her to the heart that she could not restrain her tears, and did not even think of trying to hide her overflowing eyes from the astonished girl.
"Go back to him and give him a message from me!--and nurse him--and--I will come again--to-morrow, at this time--no one need know about it besides yourself. What is your name?"
"Crescenz. But they only call me Red Zenz."
"Good-by, Crescenz--I did you wrong! You are a good girl--far, far better than many others. Adieu!"
She held out her hand to the bewildered girl, who was at a loss how to reconcile the Fräulein's sudden kindness with her former coldness. Then she turned hastily, and disappeared among the cedar-trees in the park.
Shaking her head, Zenz stood gazing after her.
"She is in love with him, too, that is certain!" she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Felix had immediately asked her about this Fräulein, yesterday at the inn. In her thoughts she placed the two side by side, and was forced to admit, with a quiet sigh, that they looked as if they were made for one another. She did not trouble herself particularly as to how far matters had gone between them. For that matter she never had any thoughts for anything except what was near at hand; and, as she looked at her bouquet and said to herself that she should be praised for bringing it, her round face broke into a smile again and she tripped gayly into the house.
In the studio up-stairs, by the side of a low couch on which Felix was lying in a feverish sleep, sat Fat Rossel, who seemed to have completely shaken oft his indolence, now that he had to do with so serious an affair. He had, it is true, had his American rocking-chair brought upstairs, but otherwise he vied with his friends in performing the duties of the sick-room. It is possible, too, that the proximity of the girl, whose sudden appearance under his roof had made him very thoughtful, had been instrumental in working this miracle. Not only the sarcastic Schnetz, but even the innocent and artless Kohle, had been struck, from the very first, by the respectful and almost chivalrous manner with which he, usually so hard to move, bore himself toward the girl, little grateful or susceptible as she showed herself for his homage. She sought to be nothing in the house but an extra servant, and conducted herself quietly and modestly toward old Katie; and it was only when a question arose about the care of the wounded patient that she expressed her opinion unasked. It was soon evident that, with all her narrowness and her extremely limited education, she had a natural preference for everything tasteful, convenient, and pleasant, so that the little household ran like clockwork, and old Katie found no time to grumble at the increase in the number of the family, but could give herself up, just as before, to her quiet vice.
Kohle stood at his easel. In spite of the excitement of an almost sleepless night, his tireless fancy still kept on working, and he was engaged at this moment in transferring the little sketch of the second picture to a sheet of the size of the first completed cartoon.