Unfortunately, the next day was to give him ample occasion for practising that wicked art.

For that very morning, as he returned from his meeting with Baumann, who had been waiting for him in the forest at the appointed place to take his letter, he could not deny himself the pleasure of walking about a little in the garden. He intended only to stay a few minutes, to walk just once around on the great wall, but he had now made the turn twice from the great portal back again to the great portal, and was beginning to make it for the third time, for the morning was really delightful, and, if his eyes did not deceive him, a light dress was shining through the trees and shrubs on the other side. Probably one of the village girls at work in the garden. How he was surprised, therefore, when he found soon after that it was Miss Helen! He could not think of avoiding her. There were only a few flights of steps leading down into the garden. There was nothing left, therefore, but to cross his hands behind his back and to saunter slowly on, watching the birds as they fluttered about in the branches, and the ducks below in the moat, and to be a little surprised when he met Miss Helen precisely at the same time and the same place as yesterday.

Miss Helen returned his bow with that calm reserve which harmonized so well with the somewhat sombre character of her beauty, although it seemed almost too cold and too haughty for a girl of her youthful age. Perhaps her greeting would not have been quite so formal if Oswald had not on purpose suppressed every trace of pleasant excitement. Then followed a short conversation, by no means overflowing with cleverness, on the weather, and a few indifferent questions on Oswald's part about the promenade of last night, with short answers by Helen. Then once more a polite and cool exchange of formal phrases. Miss Helen continued her walk; Oswald had finished his promenade, which he "always enjoyed between six and seven on the wall,"--a statement by no means founded on truth,--and went back to his room. "What a pity," he said to himself, "that such splendid beauty should hold, after all, but an ordinary soul! What would Professor Berger say, if he saw his lovely bud unfolded now into a dark-red rose? Would he weave another wreath of sonnets and press it on her rich hair? Good, dear Berger, was it a suggestion of your good or your evil angel, both of whom continually struggle for the mastery in your great soul, to send me here into the camp of our enemies? I was to return laden with trophies, scalps of slain Iroquois which we were to hang up in our wigwams to feast our eyes--what would you say if you heard of the narrow escapes your Uncas has had from being scalped himself? But I will keep one promise: I will not fall in love with this early praised beauty--no, and if she were as clever as she is beautiful."

When Oswald came down to dinner he was most pleasantly surprised to find Doctor Braun, who had come a few minutes before, and had accepted the baroness' invitation to stay to dinner.

The doctor appeared in a larger circle to as much advantage as in private; an easy, sociable, and refined man, who evidently had very unusual powers of conversation and perfect self-possession. And what was still more attractive, and really won Doctor Braun the hearts of all, at least of all men of sense, was his real or apparent unconsciousness of all these advantages. Nothing was evidently farther from him than to make an exhibition of himself; on the contrary, he took pleasure in leading others to a clearer understanding of their views, and thus he was not less a good and patient listener than a skilful speaker--two virtues rarely found united.

Oswald saw with surprise that if the doctor distinguished any one in the company, it could only be Miss Helen, and with still greater surprise, that the young lady, when speaking to him, laid aside a part of her haughty reserve. They had made music together before dinner, playing a sonata for four hands; then Helen had sung a few songs, while the doctor accompanied her. At table they sat by each other, and conversed with animation about the different styles of music; the doctor displaying a thorough knowledge of composition, and Miss Helen at least a lively appreciation of matters of music; and when he took leave, directly after dinner, she regretted his eagerness to go so warmly, and begged him so earnestly to be sure and send the promised music very soon,--no, rather to bring it himself, so that they might play it together,--that the doctor might have boasted of a great success if it had been his intention to make a favorable impression on the young lady.

"You are not fond of music?" he asked Oswald, whom he had accompanied to his room for the few minutes till the horses should be ready.

"No, and the harmony of sweet notes has so few attractions for me that I closed my window last night when Miss Helen sang that barcarolle which seemed to give you such delight."

"That is indeed remarkable. I do not remember ever having heard such a--what shall I say--such a mystic alto voice."

"Might not the beauty of the performer affect the impartiality of the judgment?"

"No; I assure you I judge quite impartially, although I must admit that such spiritual beauty seems to belong more to the realm of dreams than to stern reality."

The doctor had taken a seat in Oswald's arm-chair, and blew the smoke of his cigar, which he had just lighted, in blue clouds through the open window.

"Hers is a beauty," he said, "that would drive a painter to despair, because her most delicate bloom cannot be expressed by lines and colors; music alone can translate it. I wish Beethoven had seen her, or Robert Schumann, and then you ought to hear the ghost-like, demoniac composition which she would have inspired!"

"But which of us is now the enthusiast?" asked Oswald, smiling; "you or I?"

"You!" said the doctor, "for the highest grade of ecstasy is silence. He who still finds words for his enthusiasm has the reins still in his hands. And then I can see a beautiful girl and admire her, without enjoying, as you see, my cigar any the less. But you are capable of forgetting eating and drinking and everything else, of throwing yourself head over heels into the Charybdis of your enthusiasm, without bestowing a thought upon the way out!"

"Are you quite sure of that?"

"Quite sure; I have studied you of late thoroughly, and I have found that you are one of the finest specimens of a species of our race, which is quite common in our day--descendants of the departed Doctor Faust, faustuli posthumi, so to say, who have cut off their long doctors' beards and exchanged the romantic costume of the Middle Ages for the modern dress coat, without, however, losing their relish for all kinds of enjoyment, and, like Faust, starving in the midst of enjoyment."

"Problematic characters, Baron Oldenburg calls them," said Oswald.

"A capital definition," answered the doctor. "To be sure, the baron ought to know, for he belongs to the brotherhood, and I dare say he ranks high among them. At least I judge so from what I hear, for I have never spoken to him, and seen him only once."

"The baron is an enigmatic character, whom it is very difficult to judge fairly."

"How else could he be a problematic character? I am told you are one of the baron's special friends--one of the few he has on earth. And that is why I speak frankly. I cannot approve it, that a man of such eminent talents should waste his life in idleness--in a kind of busy idleness, the greatest reproach, in my opinion, that can be made against a man in our day, when there is so very much to be done."

"How can the poor baron help it, if the bread and butter of every day's life are not to his taste?"

"Do you think I like it?" said Doctor Braun, and he flushed up and his eyes sparkled; "do you think that the great god Apollo, when he watched the cattle of Admetus, and ate the mean food of a slave in the shade of an oak-tree, did not long for the ambrosia and nectar on the golden tables in the house of Zeus? Nevertheless he bore his fate and endured it, as a greater one did after him. But I have always thought that the true lot of man upon earth is to be subject to all that is human, and yet never to forget the heavenly part within him; to contend until death with the raving wolves of tyranny and falsehood, and to bear the cross of all that is vulgar and mean, for the sake of that which follows after Golgotha."

The doctor had risen; he walked a few times up and down the room with rapid strides; then he stopped before Oswald and said, with heart-winning kindliness: "Pardon me if I have offended you by one or the other word I have spoken; perhaps I have been inconsiderate. But it always excites me to see a superior man remain idle or follow false lights. The former is the sin against the Holy Ghost, the gravest of all our sins; the other is less grave, but almost equal. I absolve you from the former, but I cannot but declare you guilty of the latter. You know what I told you the other day about your position here; now, after having seen you myself in this circle, I consider it still more objectionable. Give it up before it is too late! It may be unwarrantable indiscretion in me to speak to you thus, but you know we physicians have the privilege of being indiscreet. Are you angry?"

"I should be the greatest fool if I were so weak," replied Oswald. "On the contrary, I am very grateful to you for the sympathy you show me, and which I am not deserving, I fear. But I think you look upon things as a little too dark----"

"Only too dark?" said the doctor, laughing; "I do not see them gray nor black; I do not see them at all; I am blind, purblind, in both eyes. Adieu, mon cher, adieu! If after some days you should not feel quite as well as you do at this hour, send for me! You shall see I am not a doctor for the well only, but also for the sick!"

With these words the doctor hastily left the room, and a moment afterwards Oswald heard the grating of the wheels on the gravel before the portal of the chÂteau.