'Yes, and the woman of the house doesn't approve of it.' The footstep of the personage in question had been audible in the passage, through the open door, which was presently closed, from within, with a little reprehensive bang. Something in this incident appeared to quicken exceedingly the Princess's impatience and emotion; the menace of exclusion from the house made her wish more even than before to enter it. 'For God's sake, Mr. Schinkel, take me up there. If you won't, I will go alone,' she pleaded.
Her face was white now, and it need hardly be added that it was beautiful. The German considered it a moment in silence; then turned and reopened the door and went in, followed closely by his companion.
There was a light in the lower region, which tempered the gloom of the staircase—as high, that is, as the first floor; the ascent the rest of the way was so dusky that the pair went slowly and Schinkel led the Princess by the hand. She gave a suppressed exclamation as she rounded a sharp turn in the second flight. 'Good God, is that his door, with the light?'
'Yes, you can see under it. There was a light before,' said Schinkel, without confusion.
'And why, in heaven's name, didn't you tell me?'
'Because I thought it would worry you.'
'And doesn't it worry you?'
'A little, but I don't mind,' said Schinkel. 'Very likely he may have left it.'
'He doesn't leave candles!' the Princess returned, with vehemence. She hurried up the few remaining steps to the door, and paused there with her ear against it. Her hand grasped the handle, and she turned it, but the door resisted.
