"With you music must take the place of everything!"

Indeed he had not been far from the truth. Music certainly had to takethe place of much.

But everything--? 0h, no!

What was that? Footsteps over the way....

Well, there was nothing remarkable in that. But they were sluggish, regularfootsteps, as though somebody was passing up and down. She stood up andwent to the window. It sometimes was quite unlit, and at first she could notrecognize the man who was walking outside. But she really knew that it wasKlingemann. How absurd! Was he going to haunt the vicinity like alove-sick swain?

"Good evening, Frau Bertha," he exclaimed from across the road, and she couldsee in the darkness that he raised his hat.