'Alfred Mörch.'
I, inwardly horrorstricken, outwardly indifferent:
'But he does not know me at all.'
'He has seen you in the street. He was walking with a friend who knew who you were. I tell you, he was quite wild about you. I have never heard him speak with so much admiration of any other woman.'
'I ought, I suppose, to feel extremely flattered, but you must excuse me, I am not. I don't value Mr. Mörch's opinion of me in the least.'
But, of course, I value his opinion. That is, it amuses me that I did after all make an impression on this wooden figure that he has not quite forgotten me. Well, well, this pleases me muchly, dear sir.
I should very much like to know whether he has intentionally filled Erik's ears with my praises, so that it might travel back to me. Did he mean that Erik, without knowing it, should do service as postilion d'amour? It is a clever idea, but not very refined. But should Mr. Mörch have had such intentions, I am, at all events, pleased to know that the answer I have sent him through his messenger is not at all encouraging.
ERIK came this afternoon. When we were alone, he pulled half-nervously a letter out of his pocket and gave it to me. I did not know the handwriting, and asked 'Who is it from?'
