A week had passed since the last reception-evening: "a terribly fatiguing week!" the Frau President sighed, in a tone of exhaustion, which did not, however, prevent her from immediately afterwards finding a great deal of fault with her modiste for not arranging with sufficient taste the toilette in which she was to appear on the eighth of these fatiguing evenings. The train was not long enough; the lace not broad enough; and the silk not so heavy as was desirable. There had been several large festivities in aristocratic circles, and, in addition, Flora had been requested to compose and recite verses at some tableaux vivants arranged at a small fÊte at court. "There was hardly time to breathe."

Henriette, in consequence of her invalid condition, could take no part in these exciting entertainments, and Kitty remained at home with her, although she was always included in the invitations to the family. They drank tea alone together in the music-room, and Kitty was unwearied in her efforts to dissipate Henriette's melancholy, by lively talk, and music. Keen as was the invalid's power of discrimination, impressed as she was by the superficiality and unreality of a life given up to society, she was, and always must be, a child of the world of fashion; she had grown up in the drawing-room of her aristocratic grandmother, and often, when the sound of rolling carriages bound for ball or opera was heard in the distance, she would smile bitterly, and liken herself to a broken-down war-horse, weak and lame, who nevertheless at the blast of the trumpet pricks his ears and longs for the strife.

Lovely as a fairy, Flora would glide through the music-room before her departure. There was almost always a frown upon her brow and a sneer upon her lip at sight of her grandmother's youthful toilette; she would lament the loss of precious time as, throwing a lace veil over her flower-wreathed curls and gathering up her train, she passed on to the carriage which was to bear the "victim to the sacrifice."

The councillor had been absent in Berlin, attending to business affairs, for six days. He wrote every day to the Frau President, and seemed "intoxicated with money-making," she remarked, with a significant smile. Four days after his departure, however, there arrived from him for his sisters-in-law three magnificent bouquets, at which the Frau President did not smile. The gallant brother-in-law had ordered camellias and violets for Flora and Henriette, whilst Kitty's bouquet was composed almost entirely of myrtle and orange-blossoms. This tender message from a distance might have escaped the Frau President's observation; she took the flowers from the box in which they were packed, and was about to send up to Henriette's room those destined for the two girls, when Flora, with a laugh, called her attention to the expressive arrangement of Kitty's flowers. The old lady's face lengthened as she looked. "But, grandmamma, did you really suppose that Moritz would purchase rank at such an immense price and then allow his race to die out?" Flora exclaimed, in her arrogant, frivolous manner. "You ought to have known that such a man as he—still young and rich and handsome—would not remain a widower all his life. And he will not woo Kitty in vain,—I am well assured of that."

After this a shadow haunted Villa Baumgarten. Kitty never suspected its presence; she sprinkled her flowers, all attached to wires as they were, with fresh water, to keep them as long as possible from fading, and never noticed their sentimental signification. Nevertheless, the gray, menacing phantom glided hither and thither through the Frau President's rooms; its presence dimmed the splendour of the costly satin furniture, the beauty of the bronzes, and the priceless porcelain; it occupied the Frau President's own favourite seat in the conservatory, and embittered her enjoyment of existence. The old lady was as anxious as to her future as if but half of her life lay behind her. The councillor should not marry again: so much at least he owed to her. She had made him what he was, by her aristocratic connections, her social influence; her incomparable taste had transformed his home into a palace, that impressed even the spoiled habituÉs of the court. Had she not sacrificed herself most decidedly in first consenting to take charge of his comparatively simple bourgeois household? And now, when everything was at last arranged precisely as she liked it,—when her efforts had been crowned with success,—a youthful Frau von RÖmer was to arise to take the lead in these splendid apartments, and those who asked to see the Frau President Urach would be shown up-stairs to some retired rooms appropriated to her use. Why, she would not have liked to see even Flora, her own daughter's child, in this position, much less the grandchild of the castle miller! The Frau President immediately manifested a deep interest in Kitty's Dresden home; she expressed great regret that so wonderful a musical talent should lie fallow for four long weeks, and even spoke of accompanying Kitty to Dresden in her own august person.

The young girl received this access of courtesy and interest in silence. She still hoped that Henriette might be induced by Doctor Bruck to visit Dresden. Hitherto he had made no attempt to do so, apparently for fear lest the invalid's irritability might be aroused in opposition; for just now she was irritable and excitable to the utmost. His visits were paid every morning at the same hour. The boudoirs of the two younger sisters were adjoining, and the door between them was almost always open. Kitty could hear his soothing tones, his gentle voice, and now and then a laugh so merry that the invalid could not but join in it. His ringing, musical laugh had a peculiar charm for Kitty: it seemed to come directly from a heart the youthful freshness of which was yet undimmed; it was a proof to her that he felt his future secure, that he was not in reality affected by the thousand trials which at present assailed him.

She herself seldom spoke with him. Sitting at her work-table in her room, she could see him walk to and fro at times; but, inseparable though the sisters usually were, Henriette always withdrew to her own room shortly before the time for his visit, and Kitty took care never to thwart her evident wish by taking part in the conversation either by word or by look.

She frequently saw the dean's widow, however, in the castle mill. The old lady paid Susie a daily visit, now that she lived so near, carrying her strengthening soups and jellies, and spending hours in cheering the poor old housekeeper, who was much depressed at being still unable to scrub or spin or even knit.

Those were happy twilight-hours in the old room at the mill. The widow would relate stories of her youth, when she had been the pastor's wife in her happy village home. She told of the sad, tearful time when she took her dear Leo, the doctor, then a boy only eight years old, from his home, where his parents had died within a few weeks of each other; and whatever else she talked of or dwelt upon, she was sure to return to the theme of which she never tired,—her delight in this nephew, who was, as she said, the very sunshine of her life.

Kitty used to accompany the old lady on her way home along the river-bank as far as the bridge across the stream. The little, wrinkled hand lay confidingly upon the girl's arm, and the two walked along as if they belonged to each other, and must together cross the bridge and enter the "Doctor's house" in its peaceful retirement among the trees in the twilight. The evenings were still cold, and from the dark forest the floating mists would moisten both hair and dress. The friendly roof and smoking chimney were very attractive. The lamp was usually shining brightly through the windows of the corner room, clearly illuminating the bridge. The old lady could not have missed her way even on a dark night. She would enter; the window-shutters would be closed; and there, in the cosy corner by the stove,—Kitty could see it all in her mind's eye,—where the faded green rug lay and the high-backed arm-chair stood, would be arranged the table for the pleasant evening meal, and his aunt would sit knitting until the doctor had finished his writing.

She had described it all often to Kitty as they walked along together, and she liked to pause for a moment upon the bridge and contemplate her pleasant home, pointing to her darling's head, with its dark curls, bending over his writing-table. He would suddenly spring up and open the window when the new watch-dog barked and rattled his chain at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Is that you, aunt?" the doctor would call from the window, and at his call Kitty would withdraw from the circle of light thrown by the lamp. With a hasty "good-night," she would run along the lonely avenue: she could not help feeling thrust out in the cold. And would not he at some future day, if he persisted in forcing Flora to be his, experience the same sensation when he went from the house here by the stream to his home in town and met but a cold greeting from his wife, or found her just arrayed for some evening entertainment?

On the seventh day after the councillor's departure, news arrived from Berlin that the factory was sold. The Frau President was so much pleased by the intelligence that she mounted the stairs in her dressing-gown and came into Henriette's room with the open letter in her hand. Flora happened to be already there.

The old lady seated herself in an arm-chair and imparted her news. "Thank Heaven, Moritz has done with it!" she said, in the best of humours. "He has made an excellent bargain; he himself is amazed at the price paid him." She folded her delicate hands upon the table before her and looked perfectly satisfied. "He can now break entirely with every connection with trade. There will be no more, I trust, of those dreadful 'business friends.' Only think how we have been forced to endure men at dinner whose proper place was in the servants' hall! Heavens! what moments of painful embarrassment I have had! Yes, yes; there has been much to be borne in silence."

Meanwhile, Kitty was standing at the window, whence she had a full view of the huge factory, with its still unfinished additions. The gravelled square in front of the building was swarming at present with people,—men, women, and children in a state of evident excitement,—gesticulating violently. The looms were deserted: there was not a workman occupied inside the factory.

The young girl pointed this out to her companions.

"I know it," the Frau President said, smiling, as she arose and came to the window. "The coachman told me awhile ago that they were in a very agitated state over there,—quite beside themselves,—because the factory has been sold to a joint-stock company, principally, they say, under the management of Jews. Yes, yes, they are now reaping what they have sown. Moritz would never have made such a sudden tabula rasa,—he clung to the factory in a manner to me perfectly incomprehensible,—but these last outrages have disgusted him: he does not want to have anything more to do with it."

"It looks very much as if our excellent Moritz were afraid," Flora remarked, with a contemptuous curl of her lip. "I, for my part, would not have parted with the factory at present for millions. Those scoundrels should first have been taught that they are beneath notice, that we laugh at their threats. I fairly burn with indignation at the thought that they may suppose their menacing letters to me have frightened us!"

"Make yourself easy, Flora. No one will suspect you. You have only to be seen to be recognized as an impersonation of daring and courage," Henriette said, with a sneer.

Her beautiful sister silently moved towards the door, ignoring the invalid's remarks with her usual cold smile, and her grandmother arose to go to dress for dinner.

"Bruck ordered you to take a short walk to-day, Henriette, did he not?" the old lady asked, as she was leaving the room.

"He wishes me to spend half an hour in the pine forest, bordering the town, for the sake of the resinous air."

"I will go with you," said Flora. "I also need air, air to prevent me from suffocating beneath the burden of annoyances which fate imposes upon me."

She offered the Frau President her arm, and they left the room together.

Henriette stamped her foot angrily; she could have cried for vexation, but she could not prevent her beautiful sister from presenting herself in the afternoon in a white felt hat, fan in hand, ready to accompany her upon her woodland walk.

It was a glorious April day: the blue skies were cloudless, the glistening sunshine was bright on forest and fell, and the balmy air was fragrant with the odour of the first violets. The strip of forest which bordered, as it were, the dark mantle of pines was still light, light as if the dome of dark green had been removed from its shady aisles. The wealth of leaves that would shortly overpower each knotty bough and transform it to youth and beauty still lay compressed, a soft down, in millions of brown buds; the underbrush alone showed a pale, misty green, and from the damp moss the snow-drops hung upon long, slender stems. Kitty strayed aside, plucking these flowers, while Flora and Henriette walked on in the narrow path leading to the pines.

It was not quiet here to-day: it was the day upon which the poor of the town were allowed to gather fagots. There was the noise of the cracking of dry wood and of loud human voices, and in among the thickest bushes Kitty suddenly came upon a swarthy woman who was just tearing down a branch as thick as her arm that had been sawed from the parent stem. Irritated, perhaps, by being detected carrying off green instead of dead wood, perhaps by the sudden appearance of the commanding figure, the woman cast from beneath the purple kerchief she had tied over her head a savage glance at the intruder, and by the manner in which, standing erect, she trailed the bough to and fro upon the ground, seemed to challenge expostulation.

Kitty was not in the least afraid: she stooped to pluck a tuft of anemones from beneath a bush, when suddenly she heard a cry from the path,—a faint scream, followed by a tumult of voices in an under-tone.

The woman listened, tossed aside the bough, and dashed through the underbrush in the direction of the noise. Again the scream was heard: it was Henriette's thin, feeble voice. Kitty followed close upon the woman's heels; the thorns tore her dress, and the bushes which her forerunner parted with a strong arm flew back into her face, but she quickly emerged upon the path.

At first she saw only a knot of women and ragged lads gathered about the trunk of a pine-tree; but through the openings made here and there by the gesticulations of the throng Flora's white hat and blue feather could be seen behind the mass of bristly heads and dirty kerchiefs.

"Let the dwarf go, Fritz!" exclaimed a huge woman.

"But she screams like a fool!" said a boy's voice.

"What of that? not a soul can hear her little pipe." The woman had a broad snub-nose and small, wicked eyes, and towered like a giantess above all the rest.

Flora now spoke,—Kitty scarcely recognized her voice.

She was answered by a burst of contemptuous laughter.

"Get out of the way?" the tall woman repeated. "This wood belongs to the town, FrÄulein; the poorest has just as good a right here as the richest. I should like to see any one drive me away!" She planted herself in the path more broadly than before. "Come, look, all of ye! Such as we don't often have a chance to see that face, except in a grand coach, with the horses tearing around the corners and trying to drive over poor people. You are a beauty, FrÄulein: your worst enemy can't deny that. All real,—nothing laid on,—a skin like silk and velvet,—good enough to eat." She thrust her face close under the white hat.

The woman who had run before Kitty pushed herself into the circle. "Here comes another!" she cried, pointing back towards the young girl.

Those nearest her involuntarily turned to look, leaving an opening in their midst. There stood Flora, her lips and cheeks white as snow, evidently hardly able to stand, in vain attempting to retain her haughty carriage.

"We don't care for her!" a boy cried out, and the circle closed again more densely than before.

"Kitty!" Henriette's voice was heard in helpless terror from behind the living wall; but the cry was instantly smothered, evidently by a hand laid upon her mouth. In an instant three or four of the boys were thrust staggering aside, and even the gigantic woman yielded to Kitty's strong arm as she made her way to her sisters and placed herself in front of them. "What do you want?" she asked, in a loud, firm voice.

For one moment the assailants were dismayed; but only for one moment. This was but a girl, and of what avail could she be to help? They closed around her with loud bursts of laughter.

"Body and bones o' me! she asks her questions like a judge on the bench!" cried the giantess, putting her arms akimbo on her broad hips.

"Yes, and looks as proud as if she were come direct from the three kings of Cologne," added the woman with the purple kerchief on her head. "Hark ye! your grandmother belonged to my village; never when I knew her did she have shoe or stocking to her foot; and I remember very well, too, when your grandfather fed and drove old miller Klaus's horses——"

"Do you suppose I do not know it, or that I am ashamed of it?" Kitty interrupted her, calmly and coldly, although her stern face had grown very pale.

"What need?—you have his money,—heaps of money!" cried a third, pressing close to the young girl and snatching at the skirt of her dress, which she rubbed in her grimy fingers. "A fine gown this!—a holiday gown!—and worn, too, o' week-days, and in the woods, where the thorns might tear it to shreds! No matter for that,—there's money enough: they found basketfuls of it when the old man died. But no one asks where it came from. It's all the same to you, FrÄulein, if the castle miller did buy away the grain from poor people who needed it, and lock it up in his granaries, and then declare he would not sell a shovelful of it until the price had risen to what he wanted,—no, not although the people squeaked like starving mice——"

"Lies!" exclaimed Kitty, exasperated.

"Lies, indeed? And is it a lie, too, that we are given up to usurers now, who will take our last potato from us? 'Tis shameful! My daughter shall drown herself sooner than work for those skinflints!"

"And my brother will shoot them dead if they show their faces here!" bragged a half-grown boy.

"Yes, like the dwarf's doves," said another, with a grimace, pointing to Henriette, who was clinging to Kitty, half wild with terror.

Suddenly the bark of a dog was heard near at hand. In an instant Flora stood erect, and all the haughty arrogance of her nature mirrored itself in her face. "What have I to do with the sale of the factory?" she asked, scornfully. "Settle that with the councillor. He will know how to answer you. And now begone, all of you! You shall suffer for your insolence, rely upon it!"

She extended her hand with a lordly air; but the tall woman seized it as if it had been offered for a friendly grasp, shook it with well-feigned cordiality, and burst into a noisy laugh, in which the others joined uproariously. "Oh, FrÄulein, have you grown so brave all of a sudden because"—and she pointed with her thumb over her shoulder—"a dog barked over there? That is Hans Sonnemann's terrier: I know his voice well. He will not stir from his master, who is stone-deaf. They are going to the tavern together, as they do every afternoon. Make yourself easy,—they'll not come near here. And you have nothing to do, my fine FrÄulein, with the sale of the factory, eh? You'll find no one to believe that. They need only look at you to see which way the wind blows. You and the old madame rule the roost; the councillor must obey, and, now that he is rich enough, shake himself clear of all the common people who have earned him his money. No, we can't help it, but we can thank you for it, FrÄulein."

She drew nearer, and her small, sharp eyes gleamed with a cat-like cruelty.

Flora, in horror, covered her face with her hands. "God of heaven, they will murder us!" she gasped, with white lips.

The whole rabble laughed.

"Not a bit of it, FrÄulein," said the woman. "We're not such fools. Where would be the use of putting a rope here?" And she passed her hand beneath her chin, with a significant gesture. "But you shall have something to remember us by."

Suddenly, Flora, as in obedience to a momentary impulse, took from her pocket her porte-monnaie, opened it, and scattered its contents, gold and silver, upon the ground. Instantly the circle widened, and the foremost boys were about to scramble for the money. "Stop that!" yelled the giantess, pushing them back into a close crowd with her powerful arms. "There will be time enough for that afterwards. Afterwards, FrÄulein." She turned slowly, and with an air of coarse irony, to the beautiful woman. "First, a token for you!"

"Take care how you touch us!" said Kitty. She perfectly retained her composure, while her two sisters were nearly fainting.

"Ah, you! What business is it of yours? Why should I take care? What signifies a couple of weeks in the cage?" She made a scornful gesture. "'Tis nothing; and the judge never gives more for—well, for a box on the ear, or a couple of scars on the face. And those you shall have, FrÄulein, sure as I stand here!" And she turned to Flora and elevated her voice. "I will paint your snowy skin so that you will remember me as long as you live. You shall show as fine a striped face as any tiger in the menagerie!"

Quick as lightning she lifted her hands to bury her dirty nails in Flora's cheek; but Kitty was as quick. She seized the bony wrists, and with one vigorous thrust sent the huge woman backwards among the rabble, making a wide breach in their circle. An indescribable tumult ensued. The mob rushed upon the strong, steadfast girl, who stood full in front of her sisters, still deadly pale, but undaunted. Flora had sunk on the ground and thrown her arms around the trunk of the pine, pressing her menaced face against the bark. Her white hat had fallen off, and was trampled beneath the feet of the assailants.

"Help! help!" screamed Henriette, with one last superhuman effort, as the rush was made upon Kitty, whose black lace mantle was torn to shreds in an instant. Her hat was snatched from her head, and the loosened braids of hair fell down her back, when the boy who had again clapped his hand upon Henriette's mouth gave a howl of dismay. "Good God! what ails her now?" he yelled, and dashed in among the crowd to escape.

A crimson stream was trickling from the invalid's lips, as, with failing glances, she clutched wildly at some support, while all recoiled in horror. Blood! In an instant the mob scattered in every direction. The bushes snapped and cracked on all sides, as when a herd of deer break through the underbrush, and then came a silence so profound that it seemed as if the rabble rout had sunk into the earth. Even if here and there a boy's head emerged from the bushes to peep greedily at the money scattered about, it did so without noise and with great caution.

Kitty threw her arms around her sister and sank with her upon the ground, leaning against the trunk of the pine and pillowing the invalid's head upon her breast. In this position the blood gradually ceased to flow.

"Go for help!" she said, without turning her tearful eyes from Henriette's death-like face, to Flora, who was gazing down upon the group, her hands clasped to her bosom in impatient terror.

"Are you mad?" she exclaimed, in a suppressed tone. "Would you have me run into the arms of those wretches? I will not stir from here alone. We must try to get Henriette away."

Kitty answered not a word: she saw how vain would be any appeal to such selfishness. With Flora's assistance she got upon her feet, Henriette lying like a child in her arms, perfectly unconscious, her head resting upon her sister's shoulder. Thus she actually glided over the ground, avoiding even the smallest stones that could jar and thus endanger her precious burden. Of course this precaution increased the difficulty of her task; but she could neither pause nor draw a long breath.

"Rest as long as you choose when we have reached the open fields,—but not here, if you would not have me die of terror," Flora said, authoritatively. She walked close by Kitty's side, her head held high with her usual haughty air, nevertheless keenly scanning each bush on either side of the path, ready to take to flight at the first suspicious noise. Where was the courage to which Henriette had ironically alluded? Where the self-reliance, the masculine energy, she had herself so vaunted? In this terrible hour Kitty could not but reflect that where a woman ceases to think, to feel, and to struggle like a woman, her life is a farce, and a farce only.