denly Frau Walter seized my arm and screamed: “Heinrich! Heinrich!” I, alone, should not have known him.
Covered with dirt, in ragged clothes, he was riding wildly along the street on a Tartar horse. A bright colored cloth was tied about his head, and the ends were fluttering in the wind. His hair hung in disorder about his dirty, sunburned face, and his beard was ragged. I limited my emotions to a smile, and said to the jubilant lady:
“Come in, please. I will inform him at once that you are here. I wish to dissipate once and for all your suspicions about his affection.”
She agreed and returned to her room. I went to meet Walter.
“You here!” He called in surprise.
“I changed my plans. Well, did you find the fugitives?”
“Upstairs I'll tell you all about it,” he replied in a sad voice with a shake of his head.
I led him through my room to the balcony. As we stood there he covered his face with his hands, sighed deeply and exclaimed:
“All lost! Why chase a woman whose heart is gone? I went in the wrong direction. In
