The two FrÄulein Dornau, with their mother, occupied the first floor of a small house in the suburbs; it was a very modest dwelling, cramped, with low windows. The paper in the reception-room, whose silver had gradually faded completely, while some of the showy purple strips which gave a gorgeous appearance to the tiny space between ceiling and floor, had become loose above or below, and played about freely in any chance current of air.

The sofa had enveloped itself shamefacedly in the sister's artistic crochet work, seat back and side cushions were covered with every variety of imaginary figures and arabesques. The venerable piece of furniture beneath would have disclosed a most deteriorated colour to the light of the sun, and the marvellous pliability of its stuffing inspired all who were obliged to seat themselves upon the place of honour with sudden terror.

The pride of the room was a writing desk of mahogany. It is well known that that wood possesses the same quality as good wine and good poetry, that its merits increase the older it becomes. The secretaire did indeed gleam in darkest brilliancy, it was only to be regretted that the effect of this show piece was sadly dimmed by several cracks in the wood, by one foot which had thoughtlessly loosened its connection with the organism of the whole, and from its crooked posture had given a sloping inclination to the desk, and by several ornamentations being broken off, which instead of forming the crown of the work, lay in melancholy ruins upon its summit.

The Dornau family was not blind to the shady side of its domestic arrangements; for many years these had been the subject of daily conversation; the necessity to send for the cabinet-maker and paperer was often discussed over the morning coffee, but always forgotten again under the pressure of circumstances. Sometimes the condition of their financial affairs did not permit of any extraordinary outlay.

The reception-room was merely divided by a curtain from the young ladies' boudoir, which left nothing to be wished for as regards cosiness, and only contained one little arm chair and two book shelves. The owners were therefore generally to be found in the front or reception-room, which served also as dining and work-room.

Thus they sat again to-day at a work-table, and looked into the street. Frau Dornau was busy in the kitchen.

"You have told me but little of Italy so far," said Olga. "You are very sparing with your communications."

"Everything can be found in guide-books," replied CÄcilie.

"But where were you after you left Nice? Our correspondence at that time came to a standstill for several months."

"Everywhere, in Florence, Rome and Naples."

"Did you see the Pope, and eat maccaroni?"

"The Pope, yes, at the feast of Corpus Christi, when he bears upon his back a gigantic sun which shines upon his mounted guardia nobile."

"And the maccaroni?"

"A horrible thing! Wearisome as is everything interminable! It is difficult to eat it gracefully."

After a pause, Olga said--

"Poor Wegen! He must have wearied for you? Have you not written to one another?"

"No," replied CÄcilie, coolly. "I do not believe in his love; daily it became more timid--any true lover has courage. He let himself be bullied by his aunts and cousins, whom I pleased but little."

"Such a good match," said Olga; "a pleasant, good-hearted man. It would be a pity!"

"You would like to have me married," said CÄcilie, while she threaded a needle. "You have your reasons for it."

"But, sister--"

"It is the best plan to get me out of the way; you, meanwhile, have had time to gain Paul's heart exclusively for yourself."

"That is not the case! Why, you know his theories."

"Theories? Dear child! you do not escape me thus! People are consistent in theory, but inconsistent in practice. Theories are for holidays, but for work-days a compromise exists. Men would be great thinkers, original geniuses; everything in the world has been thought of once already; people seek for a truth, which at least appears to be new, and prosecute it to the uttermost. This daring fills one with horror. In the world, however, provision is made against trees growing into the sky, and the lords of creation are not so stupid as to let their cleverness cause them to do anything inconvenient. They declare the impossible to be the law of the universe; in life they content themselves with the most practicable possibilities. Our mutual friend also is merely a Titan in his hours of leisure; when he cannot storm heaven with his hundred arms, he contents himself with two, with which to caress one single sweetheart."

"But we do not need to complain that he has become faithless to his theories."

"Towards me he was cool enough at our last meeting; a temperature in which at most the snowdrops of friendship flourish. The hot-house warmth for the marvellous flowers of passion he seems to reserve for you."

"But I can assure you, sister, he is just as he was."

"But only towards you he is so; I was foolish to remain so long away. I know, though, you are a coquette."

"Sister," cried Olga, while she gave an angry push to the work-table, so that it threatened to lose its equilibrium.

"I do not reproach you; it lies in your nature. You are an elementary being; you need life and pleasure, like a hundred thousand creatures between heaven and earth. Wherever you scent anything of the kind, you make bigger eyes than you possess naturally, and force aside everything that obstructs your path."

"I am no longer so foolish as I was formerly. Paul has lent me many books; I have educated myself, and you need not assume a tone of superiority towards me. Talk to me of what you will, of the Saint Simonites, of the nature of Christianity, of George Sand, of LÆlia and Pulcheria, of National Assemblies--I am ready. 'I think slowly,' says Paul, 'but I retain all firmly.' And you believe that I am still such a child of nature as formerly! But I am not coquettish, only ask Paul; he thinks I am too little so. I always show myself as I am; I am a nature clear as crystal, but too transparent. You call me coquettish? It is dreadful!"

CÄcilie sought to appease her sister--

"But, dear child, it is no insult! Who would not be coquettish? I am so! We only wish to please; it is required of us. We are forced to wish it. Without coquettishness we should be left sitting still at balls and through life, and we should not even be enabled to fulfil those serious duties of which so much is said to us."

Olga was soon pacified; the sisters kissed each other across the work-table, and glances of mutual affection passed between them.

Then the door bell was rung; Frau von Dornau, in her cooking apron and nightcap, which she thought was indispensable as a protection against the draught of the kitchen, rushed in to announce Herr von Wegen, who wished to speak to CÄcilie. Frau von Dornau was in a state of great perturbation; she was ashamed of the costume in which she had been surprised, and the strange gentleman looked so festive. If her sight had not deceived her, he carried a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Olga disappeared behind the portiÈre; her mother, who had hastily thrown on a bright-coloured shawl, admitted the gentleman, and then repaired to her cooking utensils. Herr von Wegen appeared, smiling pleasantly; he had summoned all the graces to his toilet, his fair little moustache was daintily curled, the colour in his cheeks seemed fresher than usual, even his hair, the contemplation of which in the mirror had filled him with well justified melancholy, was so artistically arranged and disposed, that a superficial glance did not perceive the sad deficiency which was concealed beneath the adroit grouping of the meagre supply.

The cross of the Order of St. John adorned his coat, and with his gloves, of the verdant colour of hope, he held a bunch of camellias, trumpet flowers and other hot-house plants, amongst which also a few half frozen asters from the autumnal beds had been mingled.

"My FrÄulein," said he, "I bid you heartily welcome to your home; may these flowers, at least, remind you of the beautiful south."

CÄcilie accepted the flowers, while expressing her thanks.

"And may you, at the same time, see in them a greeting of old friendship; I cannot make a long speech, FrÄulein, but I bid you welcome once more."

These effusions of Wegen's heart met with slight encouragement; the young lady, usually so loquacious, could not find a word this time, and silently awaited that which was to come.

"You know, my FrÄulein, that I am your true friend; we played and danced together even in Neukuhren, those were delightful days at the sea-side. How charming, too, was the dance under the pear tree! We spoke of many things there; I have not forgotten them. And again in Masuren! How every day on which I could see and speak to you, made me glad."

"That pleasure was not shared by your people," replied CÄcilie, with cold reserve.

"You are mistaken," said Wegen, losing somewhat of his self-possession.

"Indeed, altogether, I did not feel comfortable there, people did not understand me, I felt as if I did not belong to that circle."

"That is to be regretted," said Wegen, sighing.

"Regretted? The world is large enough, Herr von Wegen, some little sunny spot can always be found. I do not love the shade, least of all that in which I am placed."

"When I said to be regretted, I was thinking of myself, of my hopes and wishes--yes, the object of my visit to-day. Indeed, FrÄulein, I could wish that Masuren might become your second home, and that you should feel, not only comfortable, but also happy in it. You know the pleasant house there beneath the shade of the lime trees--no castle such as Kulmitten, but in summer buried amongst flowers--the cosy garden behind--thither I should like to conduct you, there I would prepare you a comfortable place for life, if you desire it, CÄcilie, because I love you, and beseech you to give me your hand!"

Now Wegen had become warm, tears stood in his eyes, he had risen, and with real emotion had stretched out his hand to CÄcilie, who hesitatingly and cautiously placed hers within it. Olga could not suppress a slight coughing fit behind the portiÈre; it was a nervous cough, consequent upon sudden agitation.

"Will you be mine? I will cherish you all my life," continued Wegen, with overflowing fervour, "no one will dare to wound you; here and there they might, perhaps, gaze with unloving looks upon the strange girl who came into the country, but my wife will be respected and honoured, and all will meet her lovingly when she bears my name. That is one consideration which might make you doubtful, it is groundless, I assure you--and as regards the other, I see that you still are doubtful; well, I am no genius, no such promise was made by my cradle, I bow before your intellect, but would it not belong to me also, when we are one for life? I, however, possess sound common sense; I am a District Deputy, people have confidence in me, in my head, otherwise they would not select me for the post. Blanden, too, is my friend, and he is a genius. Tell me who your friends are--enough, that is a secondary matter! The principal one is that my heart is honest, and that I love you. They praise my model management in the district, but the real model management will then be found, not in the fields and stalls, but in my house."

"You honour me by your offer," said CÄcilie, "it comes most unexpectedly upon me. Certainly there was a time when I was more prepared for it than I am just now."

"Do not be angry with me that I hesitated formerly, that I let you go away; I never wavered in my love, because whatsoever takes root in my mind has a firm foundation. I only wavered in my belief in the happiness that I could bring to you, such contradictions hovered in the air, and I became timid simply because I loved you. It is different now; I have shaken off all doubt, I feel the power within me to make you happy. And if there be underwood that blocks our path, I shall have the whole forest thinned or cut down, so truly as my name is Wegen. Will you be mine, dear CÄcilie?"

"First take my hand in token of my thanks and true friendship. But then grant me time for reflection, even if it only be for a few days. I, too, must see all quite clearly, and in me, also, everything wavering must become firm. You are sure of my hearty affection, and to which ever decision I may come, rest assured that I shall always count this day amongst the most beautiful in my life."

Wegen asked when he might come for her answer: CÄcilie would give it him in two days' time. He rose with downcast air; he had hoped, at least, this time to receive a kiss as a trophy of victory. And how polite and amiable, but how little cordial was all that CÄcilie said to him; how differently had he painted the meeting with his beloved one, as he ascended the stairs! Then, after his declaration, she had melted into tears, she had fallen upon his neck, she, too, had told him that she had already loved him for long, and could not live without him, then, for the first time, he had been permitted to press her passionately against his heart!

The slight outlines of this imaginary picture still stood before his mind; but how totally differently this meeting had passed off! No acquiescence, no loving effusions, no moment of sweet self-forgetfulness. Friendly, but distantly she stood before him; certainly as desirable, as charming as ever! Even in the more comfortable house attire, her slender figure was so seductively displayed; the polite smile upon her lips, the animated glance of her clever eyes, that supple fascination in her whole person, Wegen would have deemed himself to be the most felicitous of mortals if it had been vouchsafed to him to receive the word of assent from that delicate fairy who seemed to glide through life with elf-like steps, the assenting word which should give her to him as his own for evermore. Instead, however, he must take up his hat and collect all his emotions in one friendly shake of the hand, but he consoled himself with the thought that it must be hard for a girl to utter the decisive word, that from shyness and shamefacedness, she would prefer to entrust it first to a little scented note, and would then be able to let the unavoidable consequences of a declaration of love flow over herself with more mental composure. It is true that an inner voice told him again and again, as he descended the stairs, that in reality CÄcilie had no girlish modesty about her--and his grounds of consolation were scattered again outside like faded leaves in a November wind.

Wegen had barely left the room before Olga stepped forth from behind the curtain, and folded her sister to her heart amid warm felicitations. The mother, too, whom Olga's powerful voice had intelligibly informed of the joyful event, was too happy at the offer.

"You dispose of me too quickly," said CÄcilie, drawing back; "it needs mature consideration first."

And she seated herself in the causeuse in her boudoir, her head propped upon her arm; sometimes gazing out upon the trees of the Philosopher's dyke, tossed about and stripped of their leaves by a ruthless north wind.

Olga and her mother did not disturb her in her silent reflections, which were, however, of a very different nature from what the former imagined. Her mother, with a heavy heart, was already thinking of the outfit. Olga was touched by the handsome man's kindliness and goodness, which were visible in every one of his words. CÄcilie was unmoved by these advantages. The language of the heart, of homely feeling, was not adapted for her; she merely looked upon Wegen as a figure upon the chess-board, with whom she could make a good move.

Towards evening Olga announced that she should visit her friend Minna, the daughter of the Kanzleirath; half-an-hour later CÄcilie informed her mother that she wished to breathe the fresh air, and should enquire after Major Bern's youngest child, who was seriously ill.

That evening Dr. Kuhl was sitting in his laboratory, a vaulted apartment with barred windows, only one door communicating between it and his study. His mother, a widow of ample means, owned the house, and, after his father's death, he had fitted it up comfortably in his own way. His mother allowed him perfect liberty, she humoured all his whims and fancies, even when she did not approve of them and when they could not be brought into unison with social forms. To conduct an intrigue for her Paul, in perfect secrecy, gave her intense satisfaction, and it was not to be wondered at that her son, by means of these principles of education, attained such singularity that he was brought, more or less, into evil repute in every circle.

There he sat now, amidst crucibles, retorts, bottles and tubes; here were covered utensils, heated over little lamps, there others stood open, so that he might watch the process of decomposition which the oxygen in the air calls forth in its contact with other gases.

The Doctor had just blown into the blowpipe, and laid it aside. The blow-pipe, thought he to himself, plays a still greater part in the world than it does here in the laboratory. How many flames, which burned upwards to the sky, has it not blown back, until they crept away upon the ground! And in all ages the sycophants of a State, and the false teachers of mankind, have blown their ruinous breath upon nations through the blow-pipe of egotism.

He went up to a retort and observed how in the process of heating two matters lost the unity of their elements, exchanged their constitutional parts with one another, so that, in consequence of this flow and dissolution, two other quite different combinations ensued.

"Those fatal elective affinities," said he to himself, "what evil have they not caused in the world! How can one apply the laws of dead nature to the human heart? As if two were the decisive numbers for it; although, however, Hindoostan's gods already formed a triune Trimurti, as if, at the accession of a third, the one must fly this, the other that way, instead of remaining together in one beautiful league. What does it matter to us if chloride and lead, hydrogen and oxygen, seek and find one another, whether they meet as oxyde of lead and chlorate of hydrogen? How can any one wish to rule the human heart according to this freak of nature? Our great poets are the most dangerous enemies of freedom of the heart, and of a glorious love in common."

Then the Doctor watched two utensils, in which, by a peculiar process, he sought to condense and harden carbon; he flattered himself with the hope of being able thus to obtain diamonds; but never was the result attained which his experiments should have given him. He consoled himself with a general observation. The hard coal becomes a diamond; strength of character alone creates great men, the sparkling jewels of mankind, but how seldom this process succeeds. Coal remains coal--with it the furnace only can be lighted.

"While contemplating the immature diamonds, with a hopeless gaze, he heard his mother's voice in the study--

"Where is the youngster, then?" and she soon entered the laboratory, leading Olga by the hand. "Here is a lady visitor, dear Paul! Entertain Olga a short time, I will prepare a little supper for our dear guest."

FrÄulein von Dornau ventured boldly into the chemical atelier, where everywhere, right and left, as upon the Pharsalian fields in the classical Walpurgis night, little flames glowed, certainly not fairy-like will-o'-the-wisps, but little altar flames in the sacred temple of knowledge.

Paul greeted her warmly, causing a glass to lose its balance and be scattered in pieces.

"Sit down, Olga," said Paul, "we can talk here a little."

And he cleared a place for her upon a bench.

"Do not be afraid of this chattering workshop that talks of all the secrets of Nature. Do not be afraid of that which the elements tell, and if the gases and vapours of this witch's kitchen are not so sweet as the aromatic forest perfumes, it is yet just as much the breath of mother Nature, who here inhales it in somewhat deeper draughts than without in wood and field."

Olga coughed slightly, because the sulphurous vapour oppressed her chest.

"I have only to produce ozone out of these fugitive oils. Ozone--I rave about it; it is the genus of oxygen. Where it refuses the power of attraction to the latter, ozone can still work. That is the higher spirit or life! All passion is ozone; it is my element!"

Olga, who had noticed that Paul was fond of imparting instruction, enquired as to the origin and nature of ozone, and in return, after a lengthy explanation, received praise for her daily augmenting thirst for knowledge.

After the close of the lecture, and when several more experiments had taken place, Kuhl conducted his visitor into the study.

"I have something important to tell you," said Olga, able to breathe once more in the airy room, the walls of which were covered with high bookcases reaching to the ceiling.

"Go on," replied Paul, "one knows beforehand what seems important to you women; as a rule, they are the most insignificant matters in the world."

"Not this--it concerns us all--you, too."

"Tell it me, then."

"CÄcilie, my sister CÄcilie--"

"What about her?"

"She is going to be married."

"Impossible!"

"It has become very possible since this morning, yes, almost certain."

Kuhl sprang from the sofa and walked up and down the room several times.

"She is a faithless woman--I have known it for long--a calculating nature! She is not capable of grasping life in the spirit and in truth; she is a Philistine maiden, a Dalilah, and betrays me to the Philistines! Her home is there where cooking pots bubble on the domestic hearth; it is a pity, with such a mind! Of what use is the pure flame of oxygen when it only serves to make old iron rusty? But why do I wonder? Is it not an old tale; all I have to do is to enquire the name of the happy man."

"Herr Baron von Wegen has asked her hand to-day."

"And she has accepted?"

"Not quite irrevocably as yet; but she will--accept--I do not doubt it! And why should she hesitate? He is an honourable, handsome man; one's heart opens when one hears him speak. He is wealthy and a man of position, and I believe that CÄcilie thinks something of belonging to the nobility--it is a matter of indifference to me."

The Doctor had seated himself beside her. She looked so meaningly at him with her large eyes, that at the last words he started up as if he had been stung by a spiteful insect.

"She, too, only thinks of marrying," said he to himself; "I perceive it in every word. Therefore, she brings me this news so quickly; CÄcilie no longer stands in her way. Now she flatters herself she shall be sole sovereign of my heart."

And he cast hostile glances at the proud beauty who sought to soothe him, drawing nearer to him, and raising her Juno-like eyes, in which her love was written in German characters.

What should he do? He scolded her on account of her want of understanding; yet she always renounced her heresies at once. Proper guidance was only needed, and as all theory is grey as the uncertain future, and all practice green as the fresh present, he deemed it best not to trouble himself about her farseeing plans, held his forefinger up menacingly and pressed a kiss upon her full lips.

As he looked round, CÄcilie stood before him.

Olga blushed this time, although Paul had often kissed her in her sister's presence, and CÄcilie too appeared to be disturbed by an occurrence to which usage must really have hardened her.

"Your mother sent me here," said she to Paul in a somewhat sharp tone.

"Olga, you surely did not find Kanzleirath's Minna at home?"

"And I must almost fear," replied the latter, "that Major Bern's child is dead."

"I was not needed; the child has quite recovered."

A short truce ensued between the two powers at war.

Kuhl contemplated them with folded arms and sinister countenance; were they not a living picture of that outrageous weakness of mind, the most contemptible of all passions in which jealousy finds utterance?

In vain had he preached against it for many long years; in vain had he extolled a common alliance of hearts; there lay his work in ruins. But why was CÄcilie jealous on the very day on which she had sacrificed him to another?

This vile passion surpassed even love itself.

CÄcilie, who when angry, spoke still more softly, but yet so that a hissing sound was blended with her fine, sharp tones, said to Olga--

"You have anticipated a right which does not belong to you--the right of speaking to others about the affairs of my heart, for only on this account have you deceived us and come here. You will surely grant me the right of speaking to Paul about them as undisturbedly as you have done. Frau Kuhl expects us to tea. You will have the goodness to precede us."

Olga was always accustomed to obey her sister's wishes when they were uttered in that tone of cutting decision. She therefore left the room silently, not, however, without having cast a speaking glance at the Doctor.

CÄcilie lighted herself a paper cigarette.

"Naturally, you know all; my sister has saved me a long introduction."

Kuhl remained standing with folded arms, and nodded his head gently.

"Wegen has asked for my hand; he has already paid me attention for a long time."

"But until now the outlines of his courtship were somewhat indistinct," said Kuhl, scoffingly.

"He offers me what hundreds of others would consider to be supreme happiness, and when I question myself calmly, I must confess that he is an honourable man, more goodhearted and honourable than most; that he is one of those natures in whom true devotion seems to be innate."

Kuhl laughed loudly.

"Indeed you have suddenly set up quite new ideals for yourself, new for you and us that is to say, as they can be bought by the dozen at Leipzig fair."

"You would scoff away all that is strange to you, yet it continues to exist, and to exist in honour before the world. Besides, it is only a question of a good match; my poor mother would find a new, comfortable home. I myself should no longer stand with a dark future before me, which offers nothing but loneliness to the toil and trouble and age of coming years."

The Doctor's mockery ceased at this turn; it contained too sad a truth.

"When I, therefore, ask my common sense," continued CÄcilie, while she blew a curling cloud of smoke into the air, "I receive an answer which really admits of no doubt, and the wicked world even maintains that common sense plays a preponderating part in me."

"Then the riddle is solved," said Kuhl.

"If I were to make comparisons they would certainly not all be drawn in favour of the deeply learned doctor of medicine, as he, in his self-complacency, may dream. Wegen is not so intellectual, but there is something dangerous, discomposing in intellect--and now even a chemist he would dissolve us into every variety of element; he would throw our characters into retorts, our advantages and failings into the scales, and once we are dismembered, what are we then? Wegen is not so intellectual, but neither is he paradoxical; he would not set the world upon its head. As regards beauty, well, that is a matter of taste. He is no Apollo, but a Hercules is not one either. His faults are those of his virtues, but others only possess the virtues of their faults, in short--"

"In short," interrupted Kuhl, "one does not need to be a great mathematician to see who would fare the worst in this problem. Certainly the bliss of former affection is not included in this calculation, the promises of that beautiful alliance, the recollections of happy hours, in which heart met heart, or elevated moments in which mind spoke to mind. It is the indifferent cold souls for which no past exists, when a pleasant future beckons to them."

"You do me injustice," said CÄcilie, laying her cigarette aside.

"Or," continued Kuhl, inexorably, "you are meditating treachery; you would destroy our alliance by force. It is a commercial transaction--a matter of business! I have for long already expected a decisive act--I will anticipate it. Perhaps I should be preferred to Wegen, if I would buy that privilege with the same price that he will pay."

Now CÄcilie interrupted him hastily, her eyes flashed fire, her whole body vibrated with passion.

"So little do you know me, Paul? So little do you all know me? What are the others to me, even if they possessed the crowns of princes, and the treasures of Golconda, and united all the virtues of the world within themselves? I have learned to see everything with your eyes--I should become blind if I were to lose you! If I must leave you, I should feel as if I were thrust out into an endless desert. How lonely I should feel in, the forests of Masuren--in the orange gardens of Italy! What is my life? Fire of your fire--soul of your soul!"

It was the language of unalloyed passion; in those words lay perfect truthfulness of feeling, which also ignites in her beloved one's heart; but he still stood hesitatingly, he did not dare to fold this slender girl, who so often had threatened to escape him, with perfect confidence to his heart. CÄcilie perceived his hesitation; she knew the cause, also, and what she now said, while coming insinuatingly towards him, was no longer the true meaning of her heart.

"You think that I shall make conditions, I shall insist upon the right of exclusiveness which such glowing love demands? No, no, let all remain as before. May another offer his whole life to me. Your vicinity--your love is my felicity, and I do not ask if your heart belongs to me alone! Let there be other happy ones beside me, I will learn to understand you entirely."

Now only did Kuhl believe himself justified in folding the girl unreservedly to his heart.

"And as a seal upon our newly-formed alliance, dear Paul--an alliance for which, in the eyes of the world, I have made a great sacrifice, we will take a ride together, tomorrow, but this time without Olga--you and I alone. This little distinction you owe to me."

Kuhl assented! The supper with his mother and the two FrÄulein von Dornau passed off most cheerfully. Olga, as yet, knew nothing of CÄcilie's desperate resolution; she looked upon her sister as Wegen's bride, and, therefore, was in a most happy mood--the champagne stirred her blood to flow more briskly--she even made some droll remarks. But CÄcilie sparkled with intellect, and developed such bold theories, that Paul delightedly followed her dizzy flight.

On the following day, Wegen looked out of the window of his hotel. It was a cold day, but he must inhale fresh air--his heart was too full. He had put on a fur cap, and defied the rough wind that coloured his cheeks more deeply.

Suddenly the sound of horses' hoofs resounded on the pavement--a lady and gentleman riding! How proudly the slender lady sat, allowing her black horse to curvet! Wegen had at once recognised the gentleman to be Dr. Kuhl! But the lady--did his eyes deceive him? Had the wind dazzled them with the dust that was blown about? There could be no doubt--it was CÄcilie!

He became pale, and started back from the window. The sudden movement had swept away his fur cap, and his few fair hairs waved mournfully in the wind. The sound of the hoofs died away upon the pavement.

Wegen sat upon the sofa, his cigar had gone out; he was utterly void of thought. He rang for his servant, so as to go to bed, when he suddenly recollected that it was only noon. He had his frock-coat with the Cross of the Order brought to him, and put it on; then he remembered that it was not today that he was to pay the decisive visit.

And should he, indeed, still pay the visit? Had she had not openly set herself free? Was this ride not an intelligible reply?

To be sure, now she must write to him herself, must spare him the humiliation of once more knocking in vain at her door. He did not leave the house; he expected the letter that contained the verdict of his death, but the letter did not come.

The ride had not remained unnoticed in the town; Kuhl was a public character--he was talked of in all circles. He had often been seen on horseback with the two FrÄulein van Dornau; to-day he only appeared with the one. What had happened? The world's opinion is always ready to draw conclusions from facts, even if they be ever so premature. The intelligence spread from drawing-room to drawing-room, that Dr. Kuhl had come to a decision at last, and in favour of CÄcilie. Amongst the Dornaus themselves the liveliest scenes had been enacted. When CÄcilie had pronounced her immutable intention of rejecting Herr von Wegen's offer, her mother had sobbed and wept, and Olga even was roused to a fire of indignation that was almost unknown to her imperturbable calm; she pourtrayed Wegen's advantages in the most glowing colours, and cast the bitterest reproaches upon her sister. Were not her own secret hopes annihilated by such lamentable obduracy?

CÄcilie, however, with her wonted superiority, knew how to calm these excited emotions; she regained their entire sympathy by the declaration that she could not love Wegen, and would not marry without love; she moved Olga to tears by such noble sentiments. The sisters were soon perfectly reconciled to one another, and Olga even promised, at CÄcilie's desire, to receive Herr von Wegen, and impart the ungratifying news to him.

The following day, Wegen appeared in the frame of mind of a prisoner who is sure of a condemnatory verdict; it was a comfort for him that CÄcilie did not personally announce her decision. Olga received him, and from her lips the intimation that he was rejected sounded more consolatory.

CÄcilie desired the explanation to be, that, after mature consideration, she found she was not suited for the country, nor for the Masuren nobility; she should not be capable of making him happy, she therefore declined his offer with thanks, but counted upon his permanent friendship.

Wegen having expected this intimation, it had lost its crushing weight for him, but what he had not expected was such a kindly bearer of the fatal decision.

In his blind passion for CÄcilie, he had never troubled himself about Olga; she was cast too far into the shade by the radiance that proceeded from her sister. He had often hardly remarked her presence, and yet her appearance was grand and imposing enough.

In fact, he had been very blind; to-day he must confess it to himself, when he, like Scipio upon the ruins of Carthage, sat upon those of his first love. From want of an appropriate reply, which it is not so easy to find to such disclosures, he contemplated Olga at first with a mournful glance and rather absently, then with increasing interest, for she spoke in such a cordial tone to console him, and the more he looked at her, the more did he discover that she was a handsome girl, not so intellectual as CÄcilie, but certainly more calculated to make an impression upon peoples' minds in Masuren than her sister. These were vague ideas, which were reflected in the most shadowy outlines upon the remotest background of his mind; he would have repelled them energetically had they ventured farther into the light, as unseemly and impious.

Nevertheless he had already sinned against well-founded custom of immediately taking up his hat, after such an intimation, and retiring from the scene. Olga chatted so innocently, she led the conversation with such tact to indifferent matters, but these indifferent matters were full of a special interest for Wegen. Olga's heart was not with George Sand and the pÈre Enfantin, even although she must talk about them with Dr. Kuhl, and was fairly at home in the great questions upon which the welfare of mankind depended, had even made a note of several stock-phrases; but when dress, family events, engagements, or the affairs of relations were under discussion, then her whole nature warmed, and she quite forgot that all these subjects were most heterodox, and in part were even opposed to the social programme of the future, by which she had been obliged to swear in Dr. Kuhl's chemical laboratory. She gave Baron von Wegen great pleasure by her unexpected knowledge of all his extensive family; she knew the Wegens of Labiau and the Wegens at Insterburg. She had even once spoken to the old uncle, whose heir he was, and who lived close to the Memel in the Lithuanian woods; she was able to distinguish between first cousins and those who were more distantly connected. She planted the family tree of the Wegens before him with as steady a hand as did Joan of Arc the standard with the lilies of the Valois; and he must indeed be a degenerate nobleman who would not thus be flattered and reminded of home.

And as a good genius watched over this conversation, seeking with a soothing salve to heal a wounded heart, the discussion, by means of a sudden turn, was led to the East Prussian cookery. That was a subject of conversation to which Wegen brought a cultivated mind, and Olga, too, was quite at home in it, although she did prefer to contribute her share more to the enjoyment than to the creation of great performances in the kitchen; but she was able to give accurate information about every fish in the sea, every beast in the forest, yes, even the dwellers in carp-ponds and pheasantrys, and to determine all the sauces which, as it were, are ordained for each. This conversation was so interesting to Wegen, that when he took up his hat he had quite forgotten the cause which brought him, the terrible defeat he had sustained. As the friendship which CÄcilie had promised to him was however not possible without continuing some intercourse, Wegen easily obtained permission to repeat his visits, and, in CÄcilie's name, Olga believed herself justified in granting it.

When he left the house, Wegen was not at all in the mental condition of a rejected candidate for matrimony, which is indeed one of the most crushing which paralyses and benumbs mortal nerves. He was astonished at himself when he hummed a Lithuanian popular air, which did not breathe the elegiac spirit of the prose of an expiring race of people, but which sounded quite lively and full of enterprise. He immediately called himself to order, but he could not quite suppress a disagreeable sensation; upon close self examination he discovered in himself, although in faint outlines, a dawning resemblance to Dr. Kuhl, whom he abhorred with all due sense of propriety. CÄcilie meanwhile had come out from behind the portiÈre, and imparted a warm eulogium to her sister for the delicacy and adroitness with which she had acquitted herself of the disagreeable task.

When CÄcilie seated herself at the worktable, a slight smile of contentment hovered round her lips. Everything was going as she wished and had planned, and she flattered herself that she had attained the desired object.