Several days had passed since that evening.

Bemperlein and Julius had gone to Grunwald, and the former had already written letters to Melitta and to Oswald. His pupil had found a home in the family of a government officer, who had two sons of nearly the same age as Julius. He wrote Oswald that he had a long and most interesting conversation with Professor Berger, the results of which he promised to tell his friend on his return to Berkow, some time in the next week, in order to take a final farewell. This only he added, that he was more decided than ever, and ready to enter immediately upon his new profession.

The day after Bemperlein's departure, the surveyor had arrived at Grenwitz; he had stayed only a few hours, however, to hold a conference with the baron and the baroness, and then he had gone to another estate which was to be surveyed, and where, as he told Oswald, he would "raise his wigwam" for the present. Oswald had found him to be a very lively, witty, and apparently well-read man, quite young yet, but well educated, and he was glad to have a prospect of seeing more of him, as Mr. Timm was soon to come to Grenwitz to make plats and drawings. The baroness, always looking forward, had already ordered two rooms in the same wing in which Oswald lived to be prepared for him, and large tables had been arranged there.

For next Sunday the family at Grenwitz, with Doctor Stein, had been invited to dine with Baron Barnewitz, Melitta's cousin. Oswald had been very much tempted to refuse the invitation at once, but he had yielded to Melitta's advice and accepted.

"What am I to do there," he had said to Melitta, "they only invite me either because they want partners for the dance, or to pay a compliment to the old baron, but surely not for my own sake. I shall be looked upon there like a Mohican among the Iroquois, like a spy in the camp. I know the nobles. The nobleman is only courteous and agreeable to the not nobly born as long as the two are alone; if there are several nobles present, they run together like mercury, and show their esprit de corps to the outsider. I tell you, Melitta, I know the nobles, and I hate them."

"But you love me, Oswald, and I also belong to the proscribed class."

"Unfortunately," said Oswald, "and that is the only defect, sweet one, which I have ever seen in you. But then you are so very sweet and good, and you go through all the mire without receiving a single stain on your robe. And much as you must gain by comparison with these vain, stupid peacocks, I can yet not help fearing that unawares some spark of the fiery hatred which I feel for the whole concern, may fall upon you also. Now you are my queen, my chÂtelaine, who has stolen away from her chÂteau to embrace her beloved by stealth for a moment, and I forget your rank, your greatness here in this charming forest solitude. You are nothing to me but she whom I love, whom I worship,--just what you would be to me if you were the beggar's daughter,--but there, in the brilliantly lighted rooms, surrounded by your great people, flattered and honored by everybody, there I cannot shut my eyes, and shall be painfully reminded that I ought not to have raised my eyes so high."

"Now, Oswald," said Melitta, fixing her eyes firmly on his, "is that kind in you? Are you mocking me when you talk so? I hear it in the harsh tone of your voice; I see it in the restless flashing of your eyes, which contrasts so strangely with their usual calm and steady light, that you feel very well how you appear in our midst like a born ruler, thanks to your mind, your superb manly beauty and strength. I have given myself to you; you are my lord and master; I would willingly accede to your maddest whim; I would bear everything from your hand, even death would not seem cruel to me coming from you--but why will you pour even a drop of wormwood into the cup of love, from which I drink with such thirsty, eager desire? Oswald, do not laugh at me."

"I do not, Melitta; I am sure of your love, although I deserve it so little; I know that your love is humble, as all love is which beareth all things and believeth all things--but you see, darling, that is the curse of these abominable institutions, that they sow distrust and hatred and discord in the hearts of men, even in such hearts which God has created for each other. And this poisonous seed flourishes and kills the roses of true love. I do not blame you for this; I blame no single person, who perhaps unconsciously suffers as much under these social distinctions as I do. But be sure it is so. The Catholic will never see his equal--his brother--in the Protestant, nor the noble in the humbly born, nor the Christian in the Jew--and vice versÂ. Nathan's pious wish, that man might at last be content with being a man, is still far from fulfilment: who knows whether it will ever be fulfilled."

"And until then," said Melitta, in her usual playful manner, pushing Oswald's hair from his brow, "until then, you dreamy dreamer, and incorrigible censor of the world, we will enjoy the fleeting moments, and that is why you must go to Barnewitz to-morrow. Pray, pray, dear Oswald, come,--and I will talk with no one else, dance with no one else,--I must go to this party in order to gain the right to refuse ten others, at which I--at which I--would feel less free than here. And without you I shall not have the least benefit from going; on the contrary, I shall be as sad as a little bird that has been caught and put in the cage. But if you are there, dearest, I will be cheerful and dance and sing--no, not sing--but I will look pretty, very pretty, for your sake. Shall I go in white? with a camellia in my hair, or a rose? You have never told me yet how you like me best. Oh! what a wooden knight you are!"

Next day, it was a Sunday, in the afternoon, at five o'clock, the gala-coach was waiting at the portal of the chÂteau at Grenwitz. The heavy bays had the best harness with the silver ornaments; the silent coachman wore his state-livery; the baron appeared in evening costume, with the decoration in his button-hole, which one of the many German princes in miniature had long ago bestowed upon him; and even the baroness appeared in a costume which made her exceptionably look only five years older than she really was. After the necessary ballast of cloaks and shawls for the return had been stowed away, and the baroness, already seated, had once more invested Mademoiselle Marguerite with the dignity of chÂtelaine--she would have much preferred going too--she stopped the coachman in order to examine the pretty French-woman once more for ten minutes on all the points on which she had obtained precise orders and regulations. Then only the order to start was given, and the coach moved with that solemnity which happily suited the disposition of the bays and the temper of the silent coachman equally well. As they passed under the bridge Bruno appeared above, at the head of Malte and a lot of hired boys who were weeding in the garden, and gave three cheers, an idea which induced even the grim baroness to smile. However, the good lady seemed to be to-day in an unusually mild and even communicative humor, perhaps in order to prepare herself for the party. She thought the weather quite fine, only a little too warm; the road excellent, only rather dusty; she hoped for cooler weather on the return, only she feared there might be a thunderstorm brewing, for a cloud on the western horizon looked to her very suspicious. Then they discussed the question whether Miss Marguerite, if the storm should really come up,--a case for which no instructions had been left,--would have the good sense to order the upper windows to be closed, and then, whether she would generally do her duty. As it was not feasible to obtain a majority of votes, the baroness denying the question at once, Oswald affirming it as positively, and the old baron being unable to form any opinion whatever, the discussion was abandoned, and they proceeded to inquire with far greater solemnity into more important questions. Had Count Grieben recovered from his attack of acute rheumatism, and would he be able to be present to-night? How would Baron Trantow's gout be, and so on, till they had easily drifted into the regular family gossip, which is as current among the high and highest nobility as among Tom, Dick, and Harry; only they speak there of Tom and Dick, and here only of Dick and Tom. Generally, when this favorite subject was mooted, Oswald had a habit of not listening, an art in which he had become quite an adept in the short time of his residence at Grenwitz; but to-day, when he was to see himself all the persons of whom they spoke, the topic had a little more interest for him, especially as Melitta's name was repeatedly mentioned. He learnt on this occasion that Baron Barnewitz and Melitta were first cousins, and that Melitta's father, Baron Barnewitz's brother, had been an officer in the Swedish service, had fought as such in the campaign against Napoleon, and died very soon after the marriage of Melitta with Baron Berkow.

"However, you know, Grenwitz," said the baroness, "Melitta will not be there to-night!"

Oswald listened attentively.

"How do you know, dear Anna Maria?" replied the baron.

"The servant showed me the list of invited guests; I always make him do so, in order to know whom I shall meet. I read it carefully. Frau von Berkow was not on it."

"Perhaps a mistake?"

"I think not. You know Melitta and her cousin, the baroness, are not very good friends. It would not be the first time they choose not to invite Melitta. But then there will be another remarkable personage there--just guess, Berkow?"

"The Prince of Putbus," said the old gentleman, almost frightened, and regretting in his heart that he was not in full official costume; "surely not the Prince?"

"No. Can you guess, doctor?"

"The man from the moon?"

"Well, a man who is scarcely less famous: Baron Oldenburg. His name stood close behind ours on the list."

"The Oldenburgs are of ancient family?" asked Oswald, who had learnt to understand the meaning of that remark.

"The Oldenburgs are, after the Grenwitzes, the oldest noble family in the country," said the baroness, with grand self-satisfaction. "The Grenwitzes can trace their pedigree up to the beginning of the twelfth century; the Oldenburgs date from the end of the thirteenth century, when Adalbert, the founder of that noble family, was created a baron by the Emperor."

"And the name of Oldenburg?" asked Oswald.

"The Oldenburgs would be sovereigns, like the dukes of their name, if they were legitimate."

"And what makes such a remarkable personage of the baron, aside from his illustrious descent?" asked Oswald.

The baroness was rather embarrassed by his question. What was in her eyes so very remarkable in the baron, his sovereign contempt of rank, his sarcastic, ironical manner to those of his own caste--this remarkable feature, which appeared almost immaterial in her eyes, was not exactly a fit subject to be discussed with a man of low birth. She contented herself; therefore, with the vague answer:--

"The baron has very eccentric views about most things in the world, so that I am often afraid for his mind."

At that moment a horseman came galloping from a by-road and stopped his horse as the carnage passed. It was a young man with a pleasant, dark face, on which a blond mustache appeared to advantage.

"Ah, baroness--baron--delighted to see you," he called out, doffing his hat and riding up to the coach--"have not had the honor for an eternity----"

"That is, mon cher," said the baroness, with her sweetest smile, "because you have not been at Grenwitz for an eternity."

"Ah, very kind, baroness--very kind--baroness, you have not had the goodness yet to introduce me--Baron Felix, I suppose?" continued the dandy, lifting his hat to Oswald.

"Doctor Stein," said the baroness, "my son's tutor--Baron Cloten----"

"Ah, ah, indeed," said Baron Cloten; "delighted--indeed--yes, yes, what I was going to say, baroness, where are you going? if I may ask."

"To Barnewitz."

"Ah, just my way--quiet, Robin, quiet!"

"But, Baron Cloten, it will be a large party," said the baroness, looking at his top-boots and hunting-coat.

"Impossible, baroness; Barnewitz asked me yesterday, as I met him accidentally, to come over to a game of whist; but he did not say a word about a dinner-party."

"It was a joke of his, you may be sure."

"Ah--very likely! Barnewitz has such funny notions. Quiet, Robin!--devil of a fellow, that Barnewitz--no doubt thought it great fun to see me come into the dining-room in top-boots--spoil the fun--I beseech you, baroness--gentlemen--tell nobody you have seen me. In a quarter of an hour at Barnewitz. Au revoir!"

Thereupon the young man threw his horse round and galloped off at full speed in the direction from which he had come.

Soon afterwards the carriage drove across a rather rough corduroy road, which led straight across the farm-yard of Barnewitz up to the lawn before the great house.

A servant approached to open the carriage door; in the door appeared the figure of a broad-shouldered, bearded man, who would have been superb-looking if indolence and high living had not seriously impaired the harmony of his features. It was Melitta's brother, Baron Barnewitz.

"You are the very first we see," he said, showing his guests into the large room on the right hand of the hall, where they were received by Frau von Barnewitz, a pretty blondine.

"You know how much I value punctuality," replied the baroness, taking the offered seat on the sofa.

"Capital quality," replied Baron Barnewitz; "entirely my conviction--always been--main thing in life and at snipe-shooting--snipe comes up--puff--lies--punctually! Ha--ha--ha!"

"How is it?" asked the baroness, turning to her hostess; "are we going to have a large company?"

"Only forty, or fifty at most."

"That means pretty nearly our whole circle."

"Pretty nearly."

"And--we were discussing the question on the way--will your charming cousin be here also?"

"You must ask my husband; he has attended to the invitations."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the latter. "Capital joke--must tell you before the others come. You know we travelled with Melitta all over Italy, and there Baron Oldenburg joined us. Well, we had a very merry time--for Oldenburg can be very pleasant when he chooses. All of a sudden our peace is gone!--all to the devil--excuse me, ladies--one went here, another there. Melitta and Oldenburg said nothing but sharp things to each other, and one fine morning Oldenburg had disappeared--gone--left a note; the air in Sicily too oppressive for a consumptive--would make a little trip to Egypt. Since then three years are gone--now Oldenburg back again--but he only called here to see me, as he said--to see my wife, as I say----"

"But Charles----"

"Well, dear Hortense, among friends--you know, a mere joke--well then, to see us both. When I ask him to come, he says: Yes, if your cousin is not to be there. A few days ago I meet Melitta--I ask her and she says: Yes, if your friend Oldenburg is not to be there. Of course, I assured both of them they might be quite sure they should not meet the object of their detestation. To make the thing still safer, I sent out two servants with two different lists--on one was Melitta's name--on the other, Oldenburg's. And now they will both come--is not that a capital joke?--Excuse me, I pray, I hear a carriage coming up."

Gradually the room filled up, and then the adjoining suite of lofty and superb rooms, which ended in the rear of the house in a large hall, from which two steps led through folding-doors into the garden.

Oswald had been presented to several ladies and gentlemen, who returned his bow with that cold politeness which the nobles always adopt towards a man of low birth, especially when he fills a position which, in their eyes, is a very subordinate one. He had then withdrawn to one of the deep bay-windows, from which he could observe the new arrivals outside and the company inside at once. A young man with pleasing features and kindly blue eyes joined him there.

"I have the pleasure of addressing Doctor Stein?" he said. Oswald bowed.

"My name is Langen. I am told you were a student at Berlin. Did you know a Mr. P. there? He studied physiology and was my best friend there. I should like to know what has became of him."

It so happened that Oswald knew him and could give Baron Langen the desired information. The sincere interest which the latter manifested for a man who, as Oswald knew, had no earthly recommendation beside his natural abilities and unwearied industry, prepossessed him in favor of his new acquaintance. He was well pleased, therefore, in spite of his inner restlessness, to see the conversation go on, and he felt somewhat more at ease in thus having found one man among so many unknown ones who cared to make his acquaintance.

"What do you say, Baron Langen," he said, after some time, "if in return for my information you were now in your turn to give me some information about the company? Who, for instance, is that old gentleman there in the blue dresscoat with the white hair and red face, who speaks so fearfully loud, as if he wished to make himself heard by somebody standing on the other side of a mountain torrent?"

"That is Count Grieben, one of our richest noblemen. Do you know the pretty story they have about him and the king?"

"No, please let me hear it."

"The king was on a journey and came to our seaport. At the wharf, where the highest officials, the nobility, and so forth had formed in order to receive him, stood the count's carriage with six magnificent bays; on each wheel-horse a jockey in the count's rich livery. The king admired the superb turnout 'All my own raising, your Majesty,' cries the count, with a bold gesture of the hand. 'Including the jockeys?' replied the witty monarch."

"Not so bad," said Oswald; "and who is that fat lady with the masculine features who is just coming in with her three pretty daughters?"

"A Baroness Nadelitz. She is a Catherine of Russia in miniature. Formerly she kept the geese of her future husband. She is said to have been so wonderfully beautiful that everybody fell in love with her, and yet so kind-hearted that no one went away mortified. Their marriage, however, was not over happy."

"At all events, she has very pretty daughters," said Oswald. "Then the baron is dead?"

"Yes, and since then she is virtually the master. She shows it literally, for I have seen her myself walking across the fields with her steward, in top-boots and heaven knows what. To be sure the soil was clay, and she sank every moment in above the ankles."

"Who are the two pretty girls who are just now coming across the room, walking arm in arm?"

"Emily von Breesen and Lisbeth von Meyen. They have but just been confirmed last Easter, and wear to-day, as far as I know, for the first time, long dresses. Shall I introduce you?"

Oswald did not reply, for at that moment the door opened, and Baron Barnewitz, whose face was beaming with delight at the surprise he had so cunningly contrived, ushered in a gentleman whose appearance evidently created quite a sensation. The loud voice of Count Grieben was hushed, several gentlemen put their heads together, and in the circle of the ladies around the hostess there followed quite a pause of expectation. The new-comer was a man of tall, but almost too slim figure, whose careless carriage brought out still more forcibly the disproportion between height and breadth. Upon the long body sat a small head, whose well-formed outlines were partly hid by the short, thick black hair. A beard of the same kind covered chin and cheeks and mouth, so that only the upper part of his face could be examined successfully. But on this half more than one riddle was clearly written. The forehead was rather high than wide, but surrounded by exceedingly fine and yet bold outlines. The brows, drawn as with a pencil, passed in a bold curve over the gray eyes, the expression of which was not very pleasant, at least as they swept at that moment over the company; as unpleasant was the smile which flashed like sheet lightning every now and then around the finely chiselled nose with the sensitive nostrils. Both smile and glance seemed to be all the answer the man vouchsafed to give Baron Barnewitz, who overwhelmed him with polite speeches as he led him up to the place where the lady of the house received her guests. She rose to greet the new-comer, who kissed her hand, and, after a slight bow to the other ladies, fell into an empty chair near her, beginning at once a lively conversation with her, without paying the slightest attention to anybody else.

Oswald had watched the new-comer with the eye of an Indian who follows the track of his mortal enemy, for he had instantly recognized that horseman who had met him and Bemperlein in the forest. It was Baron Oldenburg.

"Now look," said Baron Barnewitz, walking up to Oswald and rubbing his hands with delight.

"I am all eye," said Oswald, with a somewhat constrained smile.

"What are you to look for?" asked Langen, while Barnewitz was turning to another group.

"Baron Barnewitz has had the goodness to call my attention to Baron Oldenburg, as a most interesting man."

"Ah! That is Oldenburg!" said Langen; "I had not seen him yet."

Another carriage drove up, and Oswald recognized Melitta as she stepped out. It was fortunate for him that Langen was eying the party on the sofa at that moment, for he would not have been able to conceal his excitement. The few minutes which Melitta spent in the dressing-room appeared to him an eternity. At last she entered through the open door, and Oswald thought the whole room was filled with light and with roses. Melitta wore a white dress, which covered up bosom and shoulders, while the delicate neck was enclosed in a lace frill. A light shawl hung around her sloping shoulders. A deep red camellia in her hair, this was her only ornament. But what ornament is needed where beauty and grace are combined, and Melitta's appearance was so beautiful and graceful that her entrance created even a greater sensation than Oldenburg's. The older men broke off their conversation to pay their respects to her; a few younger men hastened up to get, if possible, the first waltz, the second polka--anything that could be had, and she smiled at old and young, answered here a question, begged there for patience, and all this while she was crossing the large room to join the other ladies. Baron Oldenburg had quietly remained sitting on his chair while the lady of the house had risen to advance toward her cousin. His arm resting on the back of the chair, he did not even turn round to look at the cause of the general commotion. But then Melitta's name must have struck his ear, for he started up, looked around, and stood face to face before Melitta, whom her cousin held by the hand. Oswald had been drawn, as by a magnetic power, toward the place, so that not a word, not a look escaped him. He saw Melitta turn pale, and her eyes flash as if in anger, when Oldenburg made her a low bow.

"Ah, madam," he said with a peculiar smile, "when we met last the sun of Sicily was shining over us, and now----"

"The moon shines--you mean to say," replied Melitta, and around her lips there appeared a line of bitter irony which Oswald had not yet seen. "On the contrary, dear baron, when we met last the moon was shining. Do you not remember, it was in the garden of the Villa Serra di Falco, near Palermo--and now that we meet again, the sun is shining, at least for myself."

The meaning of these last words was probably a secret for all except for him for whom they were spoken. Melitta had noticed Oswald, as she turned half round to speak to Oldenburg, and had so kindly smiled upon him that Baron Barnewitz interrupted his enjoyment of the skilfully prepared scene to ask him, "You knew my cousin before?"

"Yes!" said Oswald, leaving him and bowing deeply to Melitta.

"Ah, doctor," said Melitta, with well-assumed surprise, "that is nice, that I meet you here. Just think, Bemperlein has written already; Julius is well--but sit down here and I will tell you all at leisure--Julius is perfectly well and has become quite a dandy in the five days he has spent at Grunwald. He has been at a children's ball, has danced a cotillon, just think! a cotillon, and that against the remonstrances of half a dozen young gentlemen."

"The poor fellow," laughed Oswald, "he will have to fight half a dozen duels."

"May be! But you know Julius is as brave as a lion, and will risk all for the lady of his heart--Ah! Baron Cloten, is that really you? I was told you and Robin had broken your necks at the last fox-hunt?"

"Quelle idÉe, madame!--no doubt invention of Barnewitz. Devilish clever fellow, Barnewitz! Beg ten thousand pardons! Am quite well, thanks! Ah, yes--would beg for a dance, if possible, the cotillion. Must try once more, if I cannot persuade you to sell me Brownlock."

"Non, mon cher; for such a purpose you shall not get the cotillon, nor any other dance. But if you will leave me Brownlock, to enjoy him in peace, you shall have the first waltz. I shall probably not stay for the cotillon. Are you satisfied?"

"Ah, madam--satisfied--quelle idÉe! happy!...."

"I pray you, Baron Cloten, calm yourself. Have you a vis-À-vis?"

"No, not yet. Look for one at once."

"Here, ask Doctor Stein--let me introduce----"

"Ah! Have had the pleasure," said the dandy, apparently noticing Oswald now for the first time, though he had been standing within a yard of him.

"All the better," said Melitta; "that is settled then?"

Cloten and Oswald bowed, and then Melitta sent them both away with a graceful wave of the hand. "I wonder," said Langen to Oswald, as he returned to the window, "how you can speak so freely to her; I would not have the courage."

"You are jesting."

"Upon my word, no! There is something in that woman's look and in her voice which would make me fear for the salvation of my soul. I know I am not alone in that."

"Perhaps I am not sufficiently concerned for the salvation of my soul," said Oswald.

In the mean time Oldenburg had studiously watched the group of Melitta in a huge mirror, while he appeared to converse with several gentlemen in perfect indifference.

"See there, Cloten, how are you, mon brave?" he said, suddenly turning to the young man, as he came near him.

"Baron Oldenburg! 'pon honor, would not have known you--such a horrible beard!"

"Horrible, mon cher? Do not make me unhappy; I have cultivated it now for three years, and it has cost me at least a million."

"Ah, nonsense," said the dandy, stroking his handsome mustache.

"Upon my word and honor," said Oldenburg. "The thing is simply this:--I made in Cairo the acquaintance of an English family, whom I met frequently on the Nile; I was lucky enough to render them some service. The family consisted of father, mother, and daughter--but what a daughter! mon cher, I tell you----"

"Ah, yes, I understand!" said Cloten, "thoroughbred! These English misses, divine--beautiful--saw one in Baden Baden--never forget her in all my life."

"Just so was my Mary," said Oldenburg.

"Not possible?"

"You may rely upon it. All English misses look alike, as one lily looks like another. Eh bien! The girl falls in love with the man who has saved her life. The father likes me; the mother consents. I am not a millionaire, like Mr. Brown; but then he was only a retired dealer in iron, and I an old German baron. Enough, we ratify the bargain. Then Mary says one evening--it seems as if it had been yesterday--we were sitting in the moonlight on the terrace of the temple at PhilÆ, and looked dreamily at the quiet river, and emptied drop by drop the full cup of love. Then she says, coming close up to me,--oh! I hear her voice still so distinctly,--Adalbert, says she--What, sweet one?--Adalbert, pray, dearest love, cut off your horrible beard--it's so vulgar."

"Ah, yes! divine, divine--these English misses.--But what did she mean?"

"She meant to say: My boy, beards are vulgar in England. Cut it off!"

"Why, that was too bad!"

"That is exactly what I told her. She begged, she besought me; at last she fell on her knees. I remained firm like the Colossus before us. Then she sprang up, and arming herself with all the pride of England, and raising her hand to the starry heavens, she exclaimed: 'Sir, either you cut off your beard or I must cut your acquaintance.'"

"Then cut my acquaintance," said I.

"Famous!" said Cloten. "What did she do?"

"Oh, nothing! Apropos, who is that young man with whom you were talking just now? There he is, standing near the door, with old Grenwitz."

"Well, guess?"

"How can I guess? I suppose it is his nephew, Felix."

"That is what I thought. And now just think, cher baron, the man is a fellow of low birth, not noble at all; his name is Stein, Doctor Stein, I believe, and he is--well, guess again!"

"From the horror in your face I should conclude that he was the son of the executioner of Bergen."

"Executioner! Quelle idÉe! What strange notions you and Frau von Berkow always have! No--tutor at Grenwitz. Is not that wonderful?"

"I do not see anything wonderful in that. There must be tutors in the world, as there must be laborers in the arsenic mines, although I should not like to be the one or the other."

"But the fellow looks almost genteel?"

"Almost genteel? My dear friend, he looks not only almost genteel, but extremely genteel, more so than any gentleman in the whole company, you and myself not excepted."

"Ah, baron, you are again in your divine humor to-day."

"Do you think so? Well, I am glad of it. But that does not prevent me from thinking the man genteel; and, what is probably of still greater value in your eyes, he has not only the air of a well-bred man about him, as we find it in any nation on earth, but he has the particular type of the nobility of this region."

"Oh, I thought typhus was a disease!"

"Typus, mon cher, not typhus. Type means, when several people have the same nose, boots, eyes, and gloves. Now, look for yourself, if all that does not agree in Doctor Stein; for instance, in comparison with yourself, for surely you have everything that is characteristic in our nobility most highly developed. He is tall and well made, like yourself, only half a head taller, and a few inches broader in the shoulders. He has the same light brown, curly hair, only you have your hair curled by the hair-dresser, and his curls naturally. He has blue eyes like yourself, and you must admit that his eyes are large and expressive."

"Ah, yes--I admit, he is a deuced handsome fellow," said the dandy, angrily, casting a sidelong glance at the object of his forced admiration.

"Well, and as to his manners," continued Oldenburg, "I would give one of my farms if I could move with the same dignity and the same gracefulness."

"That is strong--why?"

"Because the women love dearly to see such a small foot, a well-shaped leg, and so forth. Such pretty dolls like the doctor are born Alexanders; they fly from one conquest to another, and generally die young at Babylon."

"Ah, baron, what a man you would be if you were not so furiously learned."

"Do you think so? May be! I have inherited that disease. It was my mother's fault; she used to read the racing almanac and many a novel besides. That explains the bad features in my character."

"Gentlemen, would you like to try my new pistols?" asked their host, who came up just then.

"I thought there would be dancing?" said Cloten.

"After dinner. You are coming, Oldenburg?"

"Of course. You know my motto: Aux armes, citoyens."