Whatever his answer, the foundations of a new life would have been laid.
The street wore its usual appearance. Truck waggons rattled along; women doing their marketing crowded in front of the provision shops; young men, hastening by with portfolios or books in their arms found time to turn and look after her. Lilly perceived this as always with a sense partly of satisfaction, partly of chagrin.
The throbbing of her heart as she walked along said to her, "Yes."
She felt she was going to market to sell herself.
Herself--everything left of herself; her bit of pride, her bit of freedom, her faith that she was one of the elect, her faith in the miracle that some day was to be accomplished in her behalf.
She lost her way. She asked the policemen. She stood in front of shop windows to look at her reflection--she was afraid of not pleasing. And each time she saw the soft, slim contour of her tall figure with its air of pleasant self-sufficiency, she drew a breath of relief.
When she read the name of the street where he dwelt, she started in fright. She had secretly hoped she would not find it, and would have to return after all.
His house presented nothing remarkable. A grey, four-story structure with a broad, unadorned square carriage entrance, across the full width of which was a scaffolding
Liebert & Dehnicke Manufacturers of Metal Wares,
was inscribed in gold characters on an enormous iron plate stretching along half the front of the house.
From the opposite side of the street she scrutinised every detail, still oppressed by the question whether she had not better turn back.
The second story windows were closely hung with dainty écru lace curtains. On the sills were snowy white porcelain pots filled with geraniums and marigolds. That part of the house looked better kept and more prosperous than everything round about.
"That's probably where he lives," she thought, and felt a slight dread in the face of so much serene yet severe beauty.
Then she took heart, crossed the street, and made straight for the door with iron grill work, which was next to the carriage entrance and seemed to lead up to that awe-inspiring second story.
But the door was locked, and before ringing she peeped through the grating. She saw a dark staircase solemnly lined with cypress trees and laurel bushes. In the background at the head of the stairs was a window glowing blue and red and throwing rainbow colors on a white bust in front of it. Lilly recognized the bust, having seen it in the display windows of the art shops. It was Clytie, whom she had always loved because of her gentle melancholy.