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Sitting down on
the floor she spread them all around her.
Despite the fact that she had not at once settled down to serious work,
she made sketches everywhere, just rough, hasty little things--"bubbles
of joy" she called them to Karl. It seemed now that these were counting
for more than she had thought. Everything was counting for more than she
had thought!
Something of the joy of it carried her back to the days when she was a
little girl and had had such happy times with her blackboard. The thought
came that now, out of her great happiness, she must pay back to the
blackboard all that it had given her in those less happy days. Work was
but the overflow of love!
During the last five months, when Karl had been working in Paris, she had
studied with Laplace. He had taken her in at once, rejoiced in her and
scolded her. One day in an unguarded moment he said she knew something
about colour. No one remembered his ever having said a thing like that
before. And Ernestine had seen a teardrop on his face when he stood
before her picture of rain in the autumn woods.


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