knowledge of Heine, and I suppose that I did not look very cheerful. Minna, who seemed to read my thoughts, sighed deeply. Stephensen placed the sketch-book on the table, and leaned back with his hands behind his back.
I think we were all surprised by being so suddenly brought back to ourselves and our conditions, and that we felt how impossible it was to get away from them.
Mrs. Jagemann came in with the table-cloth, and Minna got up and offered to help her to lay the table. But at supper our silence was much greater than our appetites.
Still the picture was unfinished, and Stephensen started again directly after we had risen from the table.
"Well, now it will have to be finished, it is also getting late, and I suppose Minna will have to rise early on account of the journey," he said, after having worked for about a quarter of an hour.
I went up to him and could not restrain an outburst of admiration. The drawing was not so firm and boldly worked as the one of me, but even this apparent anxiety gave it a certain pleasing grace, and the expression was none the less successful from being given very sketchily; one anticipated something more than was seen.
"It might be better, but even if I had the time I should be afraid to try and improve it."
He also loosened this leaf with his penknife.
"And who is to have that one?" Minna asked.
Stephensen handed it to her: "You, Minna, in order to give it to the one of us whom you think will need it most."
There was a deep and sad earnestness in his voice, which trembled just a little with an exceedingly sympathetic sound. It was the only hint that had been given in the course of the evening of the decision on hand, and nobody
