The summer sun had set for some time behind the tall trees of the park; dark shadows were falling upon the thick bosquets; here and there a bird was still chirping, before he put his head under his wing for the night; otherwise all had become silent in the garden, where just before all had been noise and uproar. But it was all the louder inside the house. The dazzling light of a hundred wax candles on lustres and girandoles shone from the windows upon the great lawn before the garden room. Music resounded through the opened folding-doors, and the peasantry, who were standing around at a respectful distance, saw through the open window the dancing couples float by one by one. In the rooms adjoining the ball-room card-tables had been placed for the older guests, and Count Grieben's screeching voice could continually be heard, as Baron Grenwitz, who was a very indifferent player, missed a trick, or, led away by his timidity, committed one of those blunders which jar so painfully on the mind of an accomplished player. Baron Barnewitz and his wife cut in, so that one of them could always be in one or the other room, and no party was favored at the expense of the other. At first, Hortense had intended to dance all the evening; but after two or three dances she became so angry at the admiration which her cousin excited, that she proposed this arrangement to her husband, who was all the more willing to accede to it, as he was, in spite of his corpulency, very fond of dancing. He not only danced very well besides, but was a great admirer of married and unmarried ladies in ball toilet. And such were not wanting. There was a bevy of beauties there such as would have enchanted more thoughtful men than the baron was. The most beautiful and most lovely of all was, in the judgment of the gentlemen at least,--for the opinion of the ladies was very much divided on the subject,--beyond all doubt, Melitta. Her cheeks, generally rather pale, were slightly flushed from dancing, her eyes beamed with light and life, her slender elastic form moved along with marvellous grace in rhythmical change--thus she floated over the smooth parquet of the ball-room like the very Muse of the Dance. By the side of this dazzling apparition the pretty women of her age looked mere wax dolls, and the younger girls very nice marionettes. Thus it seemed at least to Oswald, as he saw her fly by him in the waltz or met her halfway in the cotillon. A strange mixture of contradictory sensations filled his heart. Since the moment when he had seen Baron Oldenburg's portrait for the first time in Melitta's album, he had never been able to get rid of the thought. What were their relations? But, often as that question had been on his lips, he had never dared to utter it, and the higher the sun of his love arose on the heavens, the paler became the threatening shadow. But to-day his half-dormant doubts had been cruelly aroused by Barnewitz's story, by the appearance of the man himself, and by Melitta's conduct. Again the question arose on his lips, and again he drove it back to its secret place in his heart. He was angry with Melitta, that she should cause him such suffering; he was angry with himself, that he had been persuaded by her to follow her to this party, into this world of nobles, who, he knew, only tolerated him; into this world of frivolous enjoyment and haughty conceit, this noisy, blinding world, which contrasted so miserably with his romantic love and seemed to scoff at the blissful, almost sublime solitude at the forest cottage! It seemed to him an old, old fairy tale, that he had held this wonderful woman in his arms--that he had pressed his lips upon her rosy lips, alas! how often! she looked to him so changed, a perfect stranger. He could not persuade himself that this was Melitta, who was laughing with young Breesen and talking with Cloten, and answering his foolish sallies so politely. And then again, when her bright eye met his, when her hand in the cotillon pressed his so sweetly, when on such an occasion a: Sweet love! you darling!--became barely audible to him--then it was again Melitta, his Melitta! And once more doubts, rising to insane anxiety, chased after certainty, which filled him with unspeakable happiness, as dark shadow and bright sunlight are chasing each other across a fair summer landscape; and in order to escape this sweet anguish, this bitter delight, he sipped with hasty, eager desire the intoxicating beverage, which consists of dazzling light, joyous music, and voluptuous perfumes, and in a ball-room excites and confuses so strangely the senses of all the guests, till they approach Bacchanalian rapture.

Oswald laughed and talked as if in the best humor; here a reckless, bold word, there a delicate compliment here a satirical sneer, there a sentimental appeal. The ladies seemed entirely to have forgotten his low birth: he was such a capital, indefatigable dancer; so handsome a man, so skilful a flatterer. And if here and there an anxious mother scolded her noble daughter for her intimacy with that young man. Doctor Stein, the words fell, golden as they were, on sterile soil, and the girl consoled herself, in her noble conscience, by saying to herself: Well, it is only for to-night! There can be no doubt that Oswald's success with the ladies on that evening deeply disgusted many a noble soul; but the expressions of such hostility remained confined to an occasional sneer, which never reached Oswald's ear, and to a few angry looks, which, if he chanced to notice them, only increased his enjoyment. He knew perfectly well how slippery the ground was; but the presence of danger, which paralyzes weak minds, only steels strong hearts; and the consciousness that he might be insulted by impertinence at any moment, gave to his manner towards the great men present a boldness, a security, which challenged their indignation, but also warned them that the consequences would be serious. Besides, it must be said to the honor of these young nobles, that among twelve or fourteen there were at least two or three who were not so blinded with prejudices that they should not have appreciated Oswald's chivalrous manner. Such was Baron Langen, who took Oswald familiarly by the arm, and during a pause between the dances, walked up and down with him through the ball-room; such also young Breesen, the handsomest and cleverest of the crowd, who asked Oswald to give him some lessons in pistol-shooting, and who, when his sister had made a mistake in the dance, and interrupted the tour, asked his pardon in her name, and carried him up to her so that she might make her own apologies. Such was, of course, also Baron Oldenburg, who praised Oswald's virtues as a dancer and a marksman to many friends, although he left it undecided whether he did so from sincere conviction or in order to annoy his young companions.

He was not very courteous to others. When Baron Barnewitz had asked him if he would like to take a hand, he had replied: Oh yes! if you will play faro! and when Lisbeth von Meyen had wondered why he did not dance, he had said: Ah, at this moment I regret, for the first time in my life, that my dancing-master never succeeded in teaching me the difference between the first and the second position, nor my music-teacher to distinguish a waltz from an anthem. Thus he sauntered about among the card-tables, and excited Count Grieben's ire by looking into everybody's hands by turns, and then offering good, or rather bad advice to them all. Now again he was seen in the ball-room, looking at the dancing couples with the eyes of a good-natured tomcat who sees black and white mice play merrily on the barn-floor before him. In this pleasing occupation he was interrupted by Baron Barnewitz, who came hurrying in and said:

"Oldenburg, as you have nothing to do----"

"Why, my dear friend, I have a great deal to do."

"Come with me in the dining-room and help me arrange the seats. Please come!"

"Your confidence in my organizing capacity is highly honorable to me, mon ami," said Oldenburg, and followed his host across the hall, up the well-carpeted staircase, into the brilliantly illuminated dining-room, where the servants were just finishing setting the tables.

"Here, Oldenburg, are the cards, all written; now tell me, shall we----"

"Honored sir," said Oldenburg to a servant, "could you, perhaps, bring me the useful and ingenious instrument by which this bottle might be opened? There, thanks--Festina lente! Barnewitz, that means: thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn! Your health, my boy! This young Cliquot is one of the more virtuous members of his numerous race. Really drinkable," and he sipped one glass after another. "Now, here I am at your service. Put the bottle on that side-table, my man in the gold lace! there are some glasses left--Countess Grieben--Baron Oldenburg--Baroness Nadelitz--are you mad, Barnewitz? I to sit two hours hemmed in between the two mummies! I had rather help to wait. No, we'll do it so. The whole of the old people go to one end of the table, and Young Germany to the other. You can go with your flock of he-goats and she-goats to the East, and I will go to the West with my kids and little sheep."

"Well, I suppose that's the best," said Barnewitz. "Here are your cards."

The servants had left the room; the two gentlemen, beginning at opposite ends, began to put the cards on the napkins.

"Miss Klaus," said Oldenburg, holding up a card; "who, by all the Olympic gods, is Miss Klaus?"

"Our governess. Have you not noticed her? A little thing, very pretty, and with eyes bursting with high treason. We could not well leave her in the nursery--Great heavens! Here is again husband and wife side by side!--because we wanted her in the cotillons. You can give her to Doctor Stein. Like and like, you know."

"Well!" said Oldenburg, and grinned.

"Who is to have the Berkow?"

"Oh, pray, leave me alone! You, for all I care."

"Bon!" said Oldenburg, and drank a glass of champagne.

After a short pause.

"Who is to have the honor of sitting by your wife?"

"Great heavens!--to be sure, that is important. You know, Oldenburg, give her the most significant; no one can say anything to that!"

"All right," said Oldenburg, and looked among the cards till he had found the right one. "I will pay you for your unauthenticated fisherman's stories," he growled between his teeth.

"Have you done, Oldenburg?"

"Directly--now!"

"Well, baron, now let us do this: you go into the ballroom and tell every gentleman what lady he is to take in, and I will do the same in the card-room."

"Ainsi soit-il!" laughed Oldenburg, following his host

As he entered the ball-room, they were just arranging a cotillon. Immediately after that they were to go to table.

"This is a good opportunity," he said, and, like a black-feathered, long-legged bird who picks out frogs on a wet meadow, he walked up and down with great gravity behind the line of the dancers and whispered to each gentleman, as the opportunity offered, the name of his lady. Oswald was dancing with the Baroness Barnewitz, who had taken the place of Miss Klaus until the latter should have carried an important order to the kitchen; their vis-À-vis were Cloten and Melitta. Oldenburg had informed all the gentlemen of their fate, which seemed to be favorable to all, for they nodded with a well-contented air. At the very last he slipped up to Cloten and whispered to him:

"Cloten, I have given you the Barnewitz."

Then to Oswald: "Doctor, you will take Frau von Berkow."

Then he went away hurriedly.

"Hortense," whispered Cloten, overjoyed, to his lady, "do you know who is to take you in?"

"Not you, Arthur?" she asked, frightened.

"Yes, my angel."

"Impossible, Arthur. Go straight back to Oldenburg and tell him he must give you another lady."

"But----"

"Hush, not so loud! You are mad. I tell you Barnewitz is very suspicious. That would make him more so than ever."

"Changez les dames!"

"Melitta; I am to take you to table."

"Impossible, Oswald. You must try to have it changed."

"Why," whispered Oswald, and his brows met.

"Do not look so angry, darling. I will explain it to you."

Miss Klaus appeared in the adjoining room. As soon as Oldenburg saw her he walked up to her, and reverently bowing to her, he said, in a tone of unusual gentleness:

"Miss Klaus, I am to have the pleasure of taking you to supper."

The poor little thing was thunderstruck. Baron Oldenburg, the strange, mysterious baron, to take her in!

She looked up to him with an air of serious doubt.

"I have arranged the seats myself, Miss Klaus; if you have any special preference tell me so, and I shall be very happy to do what you like best."

"Oh no, baron----"

"Eh bien, nous voilÀ d'accord! Will you give me your arm? I see they are making ready."

At that moment Cloten came up, out of breath.

"One word, Oldenburg--pardon me, Miss Klaus--Oldenburg, you must get me another lady. I cannot go with Hortense."

"Pourquoi pas, mon cher?"

"Because--oh, pshaw!--because----"

"Je suis au dÉsespoir, mon brave; but Barnewitz has proposed you himself!"

"Are you sure?"

"You may rely on it."

He hastened back to his lady, his face beaming with joy.

"Oswald," said Melitta, "I have reconsidered it. It is better so--there is no prospect for the cotillon. Now come, give me your arm, and be good again."

The older people had gone into the dining-room first, and were standing behind their chairs; the company from the ball-room came now. Baron Barnewitz came for a moment across to see that all was right. He looked very black when he saw his wife on Cloten's arm, and Melitta standing by Oswald, and still more so when Oldenburg himself entered, leading his lady like a princess by the hand.

"Oldenburg, what a mess you have made!" whispered Barnewitz, furiously. "I do not want Cloten to sit by my they are quite enough talked about already."

"Well, my dear fellow, you told me to take the most insignificant; that left me no doubt!"

"And Melitta with the doctor; you with Miss Klaus--that is too absurd."

"Well, Barnewitz, it's done now, and please do me the favor not to interfere any more with my arrangements. Go quietly to your seat, the Countess Grieben is looking for you with her big owl eyes!"

"I wash my hands of it," growled Barnewitz, hurrying away.

"And I drink a bottle of champagne in honor of my successful coup d'État," grinned Oldenburg, sitting down by the little governess, just opposite Melitta and Oswald, and not far from Cloten and Hortense.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I hope you will join me in drinking, silently but enthusiastically, the health of the man who has assigned us all our places, and who, while he looked to the common welfare of all, yet has known how to fulfil the wishes of every guest. I pray you will bear in mind that a want of enthusiasm at this solemn moment would deeply wound the feelings of that man, and at the same time inexpressibly pain one of your neighbors, whom you are bound to love at least as your neighbor. Ladies and gentlemen, drink with me the health of your and my best friend, Adalbert Oldenburg!"

As a matter of course, no one within reach of the Baron's moderately strong voice dared to refuse to join in this ironical toast. The glasses clinked, and soon a lively conversation began all around the table, like fire in a bundle of straw which has been set on fire on all sides at once; that humming, chirping, chuckling, tittering, laughing conversation, in which very soon the most brilliant witticism and the most foolish remark have the same value.

"Mind your eyes, Oswald," said Melitta, in that rapid manner in which speech can hardly be distinguished from mere breathing, and when yet every syllable is distinctly heard--"Your sweet love-letters are caught on the way by profane eyes, broken open, and read."

Cloten had in vain tried to convince Hortense that it had been her husband's own wish that he should lead her to table.

"Don't be such a fool, Arthur," she said, "it is a trick of Oldenburg's, you may rely on it. Have you ever talked with Oldenburg about me?"

"Never, Hortense--parole d'honneur!"

"I am sure you have done it. You will ruin me with your foolish way of talking."

"But, Hortense----"

"Hush, Oldenburg is watching us all the time."

"Cloten," said the Baron.

"What, baron?"

"Will you go with me to Italy next fall? You know in that matter?"

"Should like it furiously, baron; but, you know, a thousand reasons against it; first, hunting season; secondly, races; thirdly, I hate travelling; fourthly, I do not understand a word of Italian."

"Well, that is the least of all. What one has to know is only, Si, signore, anima mia dolce, and all other things you learn by examining boatmen."

Cloten blushed to the root of his hair, for, as Oldenburg said these words he felt Hortense's foot on his own, and heard her whisper in a voice half drowned by tears:

"There, you see, Arthur; did I not tell you?"

Melitta also, who had become quite silent ever since she found herself sitting opposite Oldenburg, seemed to be particularly struck by this remark. She suddenly cast down her long lashes, as if she wished to conceal what was going on in her heart.

"I appeal to you to bear me witness," said Oldenburg to her. "Has your Italian been of much use to you?"

"On the contrary," said Melitta, and her dark eyes flashed brightly. "It only made me listen to many a false, untruthful word, which would otherwise have remained unintelligible."

"Yes, yes, the Italians are great liars," laughed Oldenburg.

"Let us rather say, there is much lying done in Italy," replied Melitta.

"Defeated again," murmured the baron. "That woman is still as beautiful as an angel and as wise as a serpent. Yes, she is more beautiful than ever. Her eyes are larger and more brilliant; her shoulders are rounder; her voice is softer and sweeter--and all that for the sake of the handsome fellow by her side! Hm!--Doctor, will you do me the honor to take a glass of champagne with me? I thought I saw a cloud on your forehead. Let us drive it away! You know: Dulce est desipere in loco."

"What kind of a horrible lingo is that again, baron?" asked Cloten.

"Low-Bramaputric, mon cher. Your health, doctor!" The more the meal approached its end, and the quicker the servants filled the ever-empty champagne glasses, the noisier and coarser became the conversation, so that it drowned even the voice of Count Grieben, which had heretofore been heard as distinctly as the screeching of a parrot in a menagerie. The thin varnish of outer culture, which constituted the whole so-called refinement of this privileged class, began to give way under the influence of streams of wine which were incessantly poured over it. The sight was a frightful one; naked, wretched nature lay open. The young men told the young ladies their adventures in hunting, at the races, their heroic deeds while they were in the army, or they were pleased to converse in a manner which they meant to be airy and witty, but which was heavy and coarse in the eyes of every well-bred woman. Unfortunately, however, the young ladies seemed to be but too well accustomed to this kind of conversation to feel any unpleasant effect. On the contrary, they allowed themselves to be forced to drink one glass of champagne after another; they were dying with laughter at the odd notions of some of the young men, and especially of young Count Grieben, a very tall, very thin, and very blond youth, whose appearance reminded one irresistibly of a giraffe. Oldenburg seemed himself to worship Bacchus more zealously than usual, or at least to take special pleasure in increasing the Bacchanalian tumult around him; he drank and talked incessantly, and urged others continually to drink. He did this especially with Cloten, who, at the beginning, frightened by Hortense's reproaches, had kept very quiet and looked embarrassed, but who had no sooner emptied a bottle than he forgot all the precaution which his lady-love had impressed upon him as absolutely necessary, and now replied to her reproachful looks with fiery glances, and to her whispered: "But, Arthur, have a care what you are doing," with an almost audible: "But, child, what do you mean; nobody sees us." The young nobleman carried his imprudence so far that he once, when picking up Hortense's napkin, kissed her hand, and at another time exchanged her glass for his; in short, he took every means to let the world know what they had heretofore but vaguely suspected.

"I am going immediately after this is over," said Melitta to Oswald, who had for the last quarter of an hour spoken almost exclusively to Emily von Breesen, his left-hand neighbor.

"I wish you had never come, or left me at home," said the young man, bitterly.

"Scold me?" said Melitta, and her lips trembled with pain. "Ah, Oswald, I wish you could come with me, and forever!"

"Perhaps Baron Oldenburg will permit us," replied Oswald, who had noticed how the baron's gray eyes continually watched Melitta and himself, while he seemed to devote himself altogether to little Miss Klaus.

Melitta said nothing, but the tear which suddenly glittered in her long eyelashes, and which she quickly wiped away with a quiet gesture, was answer enough.

"Pardon me, Melitta," whispered Oswald, "but I am very unhappy."

"I am not less so--perhaps more so--and that is exactly why I wish you at least were happy, and I could make you so."

"You can do it by a word."

"What is that, Oswald?"

"Tell me that you love me."

"Oswald, love does not ask so; that is jealousy."

"Is there any love without jealousy?"

"Yes, true love, that feareth nothing and believeth all things."

"Then my love is not true love. To be sure, we, who are not noble, cannot lay claim to anything that is true, I suppose; our mothers and sisters wear glass instead of diamonds; we ourselves have no true honor, no true love, that is clear." ... If Oswald could have looked into Melitta's heart as he was uttering these mad words, if he had but cast a glance at her face, he would have died for shame. Melitta did not answer; she did not cry; she only looked fixedly before her, as if she could not comprehend the fearful thing, that the hand which she had stooped to kiss had slapped her face, that the foot which she had knelt to wash with ointment had repelled her cruelly ... How she had looked forward to this evening; how happy she had fancied she would be in the midst of the crowd, alone with the beloved one, listening to his words, stealthily pressing his hand, and while beautiful women are slyly coquetting with him on all sides, to read in his eyes: I love only you, Melitta! And beyond this evening she had looked into a rosy future--a land of hope--not in clear outlines, but full of peace and love and sunshine ... And then her past had come up like a gray venomous mist, and had covered the promised land with its thick veil ... and now the face of the beloved one looked to her, through the foul mist, as if it were disfigured by hatred, and his voice sounded strange to her ears. Was that his face? Was that his voice which now said: "Baroness, they are rising from table: may I offer you my arm?"

As they passed down the stairs Melitta said nothing; Oswald also was silent. When they had reached the reception-room he bowed deep; and when he raised his head, he looked for an instant into her face. He saw that pain made her lips tremble; he saw a touching complaint dim her eyes, but his heart was locked, and he turned to a group of young girls and men who seemed to be disposed to continue the reckless table-talk yet for a while. Melitta followed him with her looks for a moment, saw how pretty Emily von Breesen turned to him eagerly, and how he met her with a merry jest, how she replied as merrily and tapped his arm with her fan. That was all she saw; when she came to herself again she found herself seated in a corner of her carriage. The bright light of the lamps fell upon the trees and hedges as they danced by the windows, but Melitta saw it all through a dim veil of mist, for her heart and her eyes were full of tears.

Part Second.