Here is Helena von Ritz--even as you told me once before she sometime might be.

And here on my wrists are the imprints of your fingers! What does it mean, Monsieur?
Am I not an apt student?
See, I made up that little bed with my own hands! I--Why, see, I can cook! What you once said to me lingered in my mind.

At first, it was matter only of curiosity.

Presently I began to see what was beneath your words, what fullness of life there might be even in poverty.

I said to myself, 'My God! were it not, after all, enough, this, if one be loved ?' So then, in spite of myself, without planning, I say, I began to understand.