"Done!" Ilse said triumphantly, pounding the nib pen on to the table. Moritz leaned over her shoulder to read: My dear Frau Stiefel, I sensed that you wanted to say a lot more than you did during the funeral of your son. If you desire, please join me for a private confession after sundown this Sunday. No one else will be attending. Do not bring Herr Stiefel. God be with you. Sincerely, Pastor Kahlbauch.

"You've got good penmanship, Ilse." he said sheepishly. She grinned; her mother taught her calligraphy for years, and was quite proud of it. "Now can we leave?" he asked. At least at Gustave's he felt safe, though not very comfortable. In Johan Farandorf's however, he was even more uncomfortable and scared for his life. Johan was a very scary-looking man, with a pointed black goatee and thin, skeletal features. He was thankful that Johan gave them some stale soup, but Thank God he was in the middle of a sculpture so he didn't bother them. Ilse sighed and sealed the letter in the envelope.

"Give me your address, then we can leave." she said. He dictated his address too quickly the first time, but finally after 3 tries they were out the door and into the cold night air. "I'll drop it off at the post." she said, going a little ways ahead. "Remember, nobody can see you." He nodded at watched her dart off like a deer in the direction of the house where mail was delivered. Following her, he found a small alley between the butcher's and the postal house, and took refuge from the oil lamps overhead. He peeked out to watch Ilse ring the bell in front of the postal house. He couldn't help but notice the pretty green dress she was wearing, and how different she looked compared to that night in Gustave's shirt... a wave of melancholy washed over him as his mind drifted back to that horrible night. He had been putting it out of his mind since Ilse's shoulder healed and the whole business with the funeral came up. He couldn't even conceive of his state of mind on that night; crazy and upset, willing to end his own life selfishly without thinking about the consequences. If it hadn't been for Ilse, none of this would be happening. Maybe this wasn't the greatest life, and it was most certainly not a life he had ever imagined for himself. But, for the first time, he felt genuinely excited about living. And it was all thanks to Ilse.

Ilse...

Another wave of melancholy settled on him, but this one was rather different. It had been plaguing his mind for awhile now, mostly at night when he lay awake on Gustave's sofa, looking up at the stars through the skylight. The old, unsettling feelings he used to discuss with Melchior were resurfacing, but they weren't the same, faceless, surreal fantasies his imagination tortured him with. No, these new visions and fantasies all had the same face, same body, same...everything. They all involved Ilse. That one morning after, when Ilse smiled at him and held him close...he had pulled away from her, twice in a matter of hours, and she still stayed by his side. To comfort him. He felt an odd tugging in his heart, a longing for that feeling Ilse gave him that day. That feeling that made his heart pound and his blood rush; he used to be terrified of that feeling, but since being with Ilse...he wanted it, now more than ever.

"Hey, there you are!" He nearly jumped out of his skin at Ilse's call. "You're really good at standing still, Moritz Stiefel!" Ilse giggled as she joined him in the dark. "That'll come in handy now!"

"Y-yeah..." he stuttered. He couldn't help but be nervous, as if Ilse could read his thoughts.

"What's wrong? Did someone see you?" Ilse asked, hearing his nervousness.

"No, no one saw me...I just..." He scratched the back of his head, unable to find words to describe the hurricane of emotions going on under his skin. Ilse however, could see right through him. She smiled at him; she had seen this confused, embarrassed look on many a boy's face, but none of them were as adorable as Moritz. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but what could she say?

"Come on, let's go; hopefully Hanschen has stormed off by now." she said finally, disappointed. Moritz looked a little disappointed as well, but nodded and followed her without a word. Why should he hesitate to say it? Ilse thought. Why should I prevent him saying... what I would most want to hear?