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stone；
Pores over books all day； and has no ear For his wife's singing。
Artists must have men； They need appreciation。 But it's queer What
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messes people make of their lives； when They should know more。 If
Gebnitz finds out； then His wife will pack。 Yes； shut the door at once。 I
did not feel it cold； I am a dunce。〃
Frau Altgelt tied her bonnet on and went Into the streets。 A bright；
crisp Autumn wind Flirted her skirts and hair。 A turbulent； Audacious
wind it was； now close behind； Pushing her bonnet forward till it twined
The strings across her face； then from in front Slantingly swinging at her
with a shunt；
Until she lay against it； struggling； pushing； Dismayed to find her
clothing tightly bound Around her； every fold and wrinkle crushing Itself
upon her； so that she was wound In draperies as clinging as those found
Sucking about a sea nymph on the frieze Of some old Grecian temple。 In
the breeze
The shops and houses had a quality Of hard and dazzling colour；
something sharp And buoyant； like white； puffing sails at sea。 The city
streets were twanging like a harp。 Charlotta caught the movement；
skippingly She blew along the pavement； hardly knowing Toward what
destination she was going。
She fetched up opposite a jeweller's shop； Where filigreed tiaras shone
like crowns； And necklaces of emeralds seemed to drop And then float up
again with lightness。 Browns Of striped agates struck her like cold
frowns Amid the gaiety of topaz seals； Carved though they were with
heads； and arms； and wheels。
A row of pencils knobbed with quartz or sard Delighted her。 And
rings of every size Turned smartly round like hoops before her eyes；
Amethyst…flamed or ruby…girdled； jarred To spokes and flashing triangles；
and starred Like rockets bursting on a festal day。 Charlotta could not tear
herself away。
With eyes glued tightly on a golden box； Whose rare enamel piqued
her with its hue； Changeable； iridescent； shuttlecocks Of shades and
lustres always darting through Its level； superimposing sheet of blue；
Charlotta did not hear footsteps approaching。 She started at the words：
〃Am I encroaching？〃
〃Oh； Heinrich； how you frightened me！ I thought We were to meet at
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Men； Women and Ghosts
three； is it quite that？〃 〃No； it is not；〃 he answered； 〃but I've caught The
trick of missing you。 One thing is flat； I cannot go on this way。 Life is
what Might best be conjured up by the word： ‘Hell'。 Dearest； when will
you come？〃 Lotta； to quell
His effervescence； pointed to the gems Within the window； asked him
to admire A bracelet or a buckle。 But one stems Uneasily the burning of
a fire。 Heinrich was chafing； pricked by his desire。 Little by little she
wooed him to her mood Until at last he promised to be good。
But here he started on another tack； To buy a jewel； which one would
Lotta choose。 She vainly urged against him all her lack Of other trinkets。
Should she dare to use A ring or brooch her husband might accuse Her of
extravagance； and ask to see A strict accounting； or still worse might be。
But Heinrich would not be persuaded。 Why Should he not give her
what he liked？ And in He went； determined certainly to buy A thing so
beautiful that it would win Her wavering fancy。 Altgelt's violin He
would outscore by such a handsome jewel That Lotta could no longer be
so cruel！
Pity Charlotta； torn in diverse ways。 If she went in with him； the
shopman might Recognize her； give her her name； in days To come he
could denounce her。 In her fright She almost fled。 But Heinrich would
be quite Capable of pursuing。 By and by She pushed the door and
entered hurriedly。
It took some pains to keep him from bestowing A pair of ruby earrings；
carved like roses； The setting twined to represent the growing Tendrils and
leaves； upon her。 〃Who supposes I could obtain such things！ It simply
closes All comfort for me。〃 So he changed his mind And bought as slight
a gift as he could find。
A locket； frosted over with seed pearls； Oblong and slim； for wearing
at the neck； Or hidden in the bosom； their joined curls Should lie in it。
And further to bedeck His love； Heinrich had picked a whiff； a fleck； The
merest puff of a thin； linked chain To hang it from。 Lotta could not
refrain
From weeping as they sauntered down the street。 She did not want the
locket； yet she did。 To have him love her she found very sweet； But it is
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hard to keep love always hid。 Then there was something in her heart which
chid Her； told her she loved Theodore in him； That all these meetings were
a foolish whim。
She thought of Theodore and the life they led； So near together； but so
little mingled。 The great clouds bulged and bellied overhead； And the fresh
wind about her body tingled； The crane of a large warehouse creaked and
jingled； Charlotta held her breath for very fear； About her in the street she
seemed to hear： 〃They call me Hanging Johnny； Away…i…oh；
They call me Hanging Johnny； So hang； boys； hang。〃
And it was Theodore； under the racing skies； Who held her and who
whispered in her ear。 She knew her heart was telling her no lies； Beating
and hammering。 He was so dear； The touch of him would send her in a
queer Swoon that was half an ecstasy。 And yearning For Theodore； she
wandered； slowly turning
Street after street as Heinrich wished it so。 He had some aim； she had
forgotten what。 Their progress was confused and very slow； But at the last
they reached a lonely spot； A garden far above the highest shot Of soaring
steeple。 At their feet； the town Spread open like a chequer…board laid
down。
Lotta was dimly conscious of the rest； Vaguely remembered how he
clasped