The baroness had missed Helen's letter the same evening. This discovery caused her no small dismay. The letter might so easily fall into wrong hands--hands that might return it to the girl, and thus expose her in her own daughter's eyes to sad disgrace! She should then irretrievably lose all the advantage which she had obtained by this insight into Helen's state of mind, and which she thought of rendering profitable to herself by frequent allusions and threatenings. It was unlucky, extremely unlucky!

The baroness remembered very distinctly having put the letter into the pocket of her dress as Felix was coming up the avenue. The probability therefore was, that she had lost it near the chapel. She remembered also having pulled put her handkerchief once during the conversation, in order to play the offended lady with greater effect. But it was too late that night to make any search for it; she had to spend a sleepless night, and wake up next morning with a violent headache. As soon as she could, she went into the garden and to the chapel. There was no letter to be seen, neither there nor in the beech avenue nor in the bower. Very much disconcerted, the baroness returned to the house.

There new trouble awaited her. Oswald sent word that Bruno had passed a sleepless night and was very unwell; would it not be better to send a messenger on horseback for Doctor Braun? He also begged that Malte might be kept down stairs, as he wished Bruno to be alone till the doctor came. The baroness sent back word that she hoped his indisposition would soon be over, and cause no interruption in the regular lessons. As for the doctor, she would let him know when they sent to town.

A few hours afterwards Felix sent his excuses for not coming to breakfast; he was quite unwell, but would be certainly down to dinner.

Felix was indeed rather worsted by his encounter with Bruno. First and foremost, the burning disgrace of having succumbed to a boy, and of having escaped with his life only, thanks to an accident or a sudden fit of generosity. It required the whole power of his frivolity to get over that painful thought. He tried to persuade himself--and after a while he did persuade himself--that the thing had not been so serious, and that, if he had not slipped so unluckily just when Bruno had leaped upon him, and if his "abominable rheumatism" had not paralyzed his arms, he "would have shaken off the boy like a troublesome fly, and treated him, besides, to a sound drubbing." That, however, in the mean time he had received the drubbing, and the fly had taken good hold of him, was clearly shown by the brown and blue spots which Felix had carried off. On neck and shoulders as sure signs of his defeat. His great valet was not a little surprised when he found his master in a condition which reminded him forcibly of former days, when he was still a cadet, and Cognac and Goulard Water formed regularly part of his toilet. The great man, however, quickly proved that he had no more forgotten the art of curing contusions and discolorations than his master had forgotten the art of getting them, and by dinner-time Felix was in a fit state to present himself in the drawing room. Still, he was doubtful whether he ought to appear at table or not. It was extremely painful to him to think of meeting Bruno, to see the boy's dark eyes rest upon him, full of scorn and satisfaction, and perhaps to have read in Oswald's face that he had been fully informed of the events of last night. He felt, therefore, no small relief when Jean told him that the company would be very much reduced at dinner to-day, as Mr. Stein and Bruno would not appear. He only cast a glance at the looking-glass, dropped a little more Ess. Bouquet than usually on his lawn handkerchief, and passed through the door which Jean obsequiously opened as light and free and as irresistible as ever, although burdened with the memory of his recent defeat.

The baroness also felt no small relief when she found that Helen showed no change in her manner or on her face, and in her large eyes. The baroness was more attentive than ever to her daughter.

Nevertheless dinner was duller than usual, although Felix did his best to make conversation. The old baron had gone himself to inquire after Bruno, and was angry that the doctor had not yet been sent for, and said that "if a wagon was going to town in the evening, to bring various things for the ball to-morrow, that was no reason why one of the servants might not have gone in on horseback early in the morning." The baroness did not relish the imputed blame, and replied that it was true she had forgotten that it was for Bruno and not for herself, although she had suffered from a very bad headache, nor for Felix, who had been quite sick during the night and the forenoon. Helen hardly raised her eyes from her plate, and said nothing, while little Marguerite's eyes were even more inflamed from weeping than on the preceding days. Felix and Malte quickly exhausted their topics of conversation, and thus the whole company was soon as silent as if they had been attending a funeral meal in Egypt.

The baroness and Felix were left alone after dinner, as the old baron withdrew to his rooms. Felix had been considering during dinner whether he had not better mention the occurrence of last night--of course in his own way--before Bruno should have an opportunity of speaking of it to any one else beside Oswald. He therefore availed himself of the tÊte-À-tÊte with the baroness for that purpose. Laughing, and begging her not to let the odd story get any farther, he then told her how the beautiful moonlight had tempted him to go into the garden, how he had found Bruno hovering around Helen's room in a very suspicious manner, and how at last the boy, refusing to go to bed as he had ordered him to do, had begun a quarrel, and made him slip and fall. He added, that as soon as he had recovered from the surprise he had inflicted due punishment on Bruno, who was probably still suffering from the consequences.

The baroness was by no means pleased with this humorous account of a very serious matter. Her apprehensions about the letter were excited anew. Bruno late at night near Helen's windows! What could he have to do there? The circumstance looked very suspicious. Could Bruno have found the letter? Could he have wished to restore it to her? The baroness groaned at the thought.

"What is the matter, dear aunt?"

"Oh, nothing! I only sigh at the trouble that man Stein has already brought upon our house. If I regret anything in my life, it is that I did not send him off the very first time I saw him. I had a great mind to do so that evening, for hardly ever has anybody made so unfavorable an impression upon me as that young man."

"But, dear aunt, why don't you do now what you omitted to do then? Turn him out. I really do not understand why you hesitate."

The baroness was not disposed to acknowledge that she would have to pay Oswald a thousand dollars if she broke the contract during the first year. This sum she was by no means willing to sacrifice. But before she could get an answer ready, the Reverend Mr. Jager's voice was heard, inquiring if he would be permitted to see the baroness.

The next moment the reverend gentleman entered the room, accompanied by his wife.

There was no difficulty in seeing that something extraordinary had occurred to the worthy couple. The minister wore his new black dress coat, which he only displayed on the most solemn occasions, and Primula had adorned her bonnet with a most picturesque wreath of wheat-ears, which made her look a shade more yellow than usual. The minister's eyes tried in vain to assume their wonted expression of humility, the very glasses seemed to sparkle with triumph, and as for Primula, her poetic mind had evidently been freed from all earthly shackles; she could show herself now as she really was.

"I come, madam," said the minister, gallantly kissing the baroness' hand, "partly in order to inquire how you and all the dear ones are to-day, and partly to report to you an event which we--I hope I may venture to say we to my noble friend--which we have long looked for, I may add, long hoped for, and which yet has come at last very unexpectedly. I have received an appointment as professor at the University of Grunwald."

"At first only as adjunct professor," added Primula; "but the full professorship will follow soon."

"At the same time I have received a call to the University Chapel."

"Yes," added Primula, "Professor Darkling wrote expressly about that."

"Why, that is capital news," said the baroness. "Permit me to present my nephew, Baron Felix--the Rev. Mr., I meant to say, Professor Jager and Mrs. Jager, dear Felix--capital news indeed! At last, then! Well, I always said it must come sooner or later; it is true we shall be the losers, but then our friends will gain so much, and that ought to be our first consideration. Let me congratulate you most heartily."

"And me too," said Felix.

"Thank you, madam, thank you, baron, very much obliged indeed," said the professor, rubbing his hands with delight; "yes, yes; better late than never. I have been looking for this ever since the reviews spoke so--I may be permitted to say--so very handsomely of my last important work, in which I established beyond all dispute the real text of the long-lost works of Philochrysos, one of the fathers of the church."

"When are you going to leave us?"

"Well, probably in the fall; but possibly sooner. I propose to deliver during the winter session three courses of lectures, and one special course on the lost writings of Philochrysos."

"You attempt too much, Jager, too much!" breathed Primula in tender accents: "oh these men! these men! Every one of them is a Prometheus ready to take Olympus by storm."

"And who has inspired me with such bold hopes, if it is not you yourself?" said the minister, gratefully pressing Primula's hand.

"Do you like pistol-shooting?" asked Felix, to turn the conversation.

"Well, a little, that is, no, I cannot say I like it. I used to be tolerably successful in shooting hares and partridges, but since the higher church authorities have pronounced very energetically against such amusements, 'my irons lie idle in the hall,' as the poet says."

"Perhaps you might take up again the noble sport, now that you are a professor," said Primula. "Ah, I think it must be glorious to meet an enraged boar with a loaded pistol in your hand ..."

"I should advise your husband," said Felix, laughing, "not to venture upon such an encounter without a rifle, and possibly a good stout hunting-knife by his side. But seriously, professor, will you come and let us have a little shooting at a mark?"

"Certainly, certainly!" cried the minister, starting up; "I am at your service, at your service."

The reverend gentleman had turned rather pale; from his excitement one might have imagined he was rushing to fight a duel where his life was in deadly peril.

"Had you not better stay here?" asked Primula, who suddenly took a very dismal view of the matter. "You are not quite as composed to-day as usual. If an accident should happen just now, when you have reached the goal of your wishes, Jager, I should not survive it," and the poetess broke out in tears and clung to her husband, whose efforts to relieve himself of the sweet burden were by no means very energetic.

"Gustava," he whispered, "dearest Gussy, it is not so dangerous as you fancy. Are your pistols provided with hair-triggers, baron?"

"Certainly," replied Felix, not a little amused by this scene. "When they are cocked you must not sneeze, or I will not be responsible for the consequences."

"Stay, oh stay! husband mine!" Primula said imploringly.

"I suppose there is not much danger," said the minister, his lips pale with terror.

"So said a friend of mine the other day," added Felix. "Have a care, said I.--Nonsense said he, and took the pistol by the mouth. The next moment he had lost one of his fingers."

"That is decisive," said Primula, rising; "Jager, you stay, I insist upon it, I command you to stay. Do not meddle with things of which you know nothing. Pistol-shooting is no child's play."

Such strong arguments were irresistible even for a great mind like the Reverend Mr. Jager's. He sank back in his chair and said, wiping the perspiration from his brow:

"You see, baron, married men are not their own masters. When you are married you will see how the brilliant cavalier will change into the prudent father of a family. But how is it, may I not offer you my congratulations?"

And the minister inclined his head on the right shoulder, to smile at the baroness, and then on his left shoulder, to bestow the same favor on Felix.

"You may ask me again a few days hence," replied the baron, evasively. "But, as I was going to say: Your appointment will make up for the loss the university has suffered in Professor Berger. Are the two events perhaps connected with each other?"

"Not directly, at least," said the minister, "although I am not disposed to deny that Professor Berger would have used his influence by no means in my favor, and thus his attack may be looked upon as a favorable event, as far as I am concerned."

"Is there any explanation how this sudden attack has come on?" asked the baroness.

"No, madam, sudden it can hardly be called," replied the new professor, assuming a most grave manner, and drawing down the corners of his mouth; "I confess I was by no means surprised, because I have always looked upon the professor as partially insane. A man who can maintain, as he did, that all so-called arguments in favor of the existence of God, the Almighty Maker of heaven and earth, are but a false conclusion, a petitio principii, such a man is already half insane. A man who can talk frivolously about the sacred institutions of kings, ruling by the grace of God, and of an hereditary nobility, is already mad, although he be a professor and his lectures be attended by hundreds of admiring listeners. I know very well it is written: Judge not, that ye be not judged; but, nevertheless, I cannot but say that I see the hand of God in this punishment."

"How would you like a game of ten-pins?" said Felix, who had been standing in the open door, and who had heard nothing of the conversation.

"With pleasure," replied the professor; "I understand all about those balls. I used to be great at ten-pins when I was a student at Grunwald."

"After coffee, dear Felix," said the baroness; "I have to talk with Mr. Jager about some important business.--Is it not terrible, dear Mr. Jager, that we must have a pupil of this abominable man in our own house? That I should have to leave the innocent soul of my poor child in such hands? For Heaven's sake advise me, what must I do to get rid of the man in a decent way?"

"You cannot send him off unceremoniously?"

"We are mutually bound for four years, and therefore if we----"

"I see, I see," said the professor, who was fully aware of Anna Maria's avarice; "hm, hm! We must find out some good reason! There is a law which requires tutors, who are at the same time candidates for the ministry, to obtain testimonials from the nearest minister, showing their good standing as to morals, etc. We might make it very difficult for Mr. Stein to obtain such a certificate," and the reverend gentleman smiled cunningly.

"Do you know the last news?" cried Felix, holding a note in his hand, which one of the servants had just brought him, as coffee was served in the bower; "Cloten is engaged to little Emily; here he sends me, as his best friend, the first information; others will not hear of it till to-morrow."

"I can beat you there," said the professor; "who do you think, madam, returned last night?"

"Well?"

"Frau von Berkow."

"Impossible!"

"I am quite sure of it. She has, in compliance with her husband's wishes, brought his body to be interred at Berkow. The coffin will arrive to-night, and to-morrow I shall hold the usual services."

"Then we cannot invite the fair lady to our ball to-morrow?" asked Felix.

"But, Felix!" said the baroness, with a reproachful glance.

"Coffee is served," announced the servant.

"Then let us go in," said the baroness.