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ONLY A GIRL. After the German of Wilhelmine von Hillern. 12mo. Fine cloth. $1.75.

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TOO RICH

A ROMANCE

AFTER THE GERMAN

OF

ADOLPH STRECKFUSS

BY MRS. A. L WISTER

TRANSLATOR OF "THE SECOND WIFE," "ONLY A GIRL," "THE OLD
MAM'SELLE'S SECRET," "HULDA," "A FAMILY FEUD," ETC.

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1878

Copyright, 1878, by J. B. Lippincott & Co.

TOO RICH.

CHAPTER I.

It was a very warm day in summer. The lindens on either side the broad promenade drooped their thirsty dusty leaves above the pedestrians sauntering beneath their shade. These loitered along as slowly as possible, but the heat was really too oppressive, and many of them soon turned into narrower and cooler side streets, resigning all attempts to meet the various acquaintances who usually at noon thronged the gay promenade of K----. Others indeed took refuge beneath the tempting awning of some one of the various fashionable restaurants on the promenade, where, secluded from the burning rays of the midday sun, they refreshed themselves with ices, and were at leisure to recognize and criticise all who drove, rode, or walked past.

On a day like the present "Büchner's restaurant," famous for its sherbet, and a favourite lounging-place with young sprigs of fashion, was sure to be thronged. Here might be seen the officers of the various regiments in garrison at K---- and numerous civilians whose rank entitled them to such distinguished companionship, and here the choice of amusements for the evening was discussed,--whether, in spite of the intense heat, the charms of the lovely S---- were sufficiently great to make the theatre endurable, or whether preference should be given to an open-air entertainment at some favourite concert-garden.

In the world of fashion it was eminently 'the thing' to pass half an hour every afternoon on the veranda beneath the awning at "Büchner's," and consequently in the afternoon the place was so thronged that scarcely a seat was to be had at any of the numerous tables there, while on warm days it was quite full at noon, for there could hardly be a more commodious and pleasant point of observation on the entire promenade.

The guests at Büchner's were of the most select,--to see that they were so was a chief care with the attentive head of the establishment, who thought no pains lost which secured to him the custom of the officers. He still recalled with vivid melancholy the war-time, and the deserted aspect of his veranda while it lasted; he knew that he owed his brilliant success in business to the officers and to please them he displayed the greatest zeal. Was he not always on the watch to keep away from the veranda any persons supposed to be obnoxious to these distinguished guests? All such, even although there was still room beneath the awning, were shown to seats far back in the inmost recesses of the place. Only to the young officers and their intimates of the first rank in society was it permitted to lounge indolently upon the veranda, their cigars in their mouths, their chairs tipped back, and their legs resting either upon other chairs or upon the wrought-iron balustrade, in which graceful and easy attitude they could observe the passers-by at their leisure.

Thus elegantly posed on this same sunny noon, two young cavalry officers were scanning, eye-glass in eye, the passers-by, negligently returning the greetings of acquaintances, and, careless as to whether their remarks were overheard or not, ruthlessly criticising in a loud voice the occupants of the various equipages rolling by.

In their immediate neighbourhood two infantry officers were seated near the balustrade, scorning however the negligent attitude of the two dragoons; one of them was reading a newspaper, while the other was gazing out at the passers-by.

"I believe you mean to learn that paper by heart, Leo," one of them, a young fellow of about three-and-twenty, remarked to his comrade, his senior by two or three years, and also in rank as the star upon his shoulder indicated.

The man thus addressed looked up with a smile, disclosing a handsome, expressive countenance of a forcible manly type. His thick, fair moustache became him well, concealing somewhat as it did the rather hard outline of the mouth and thus softening a certain sternness of expression which had characterized his face while absorbed in his newspaper, but which vanished entirely as he smiled. The mild lustre of large dark eyes made the handsome face still more attractive.

"You're an awful bore to-day, Leo," the younger man continued; "we've been sitting here full half an hour, and you have hardly opened your lips. I cannot imagine what you find to read in that wretched 'Daily Post;' it makes me yawn only to look at it; nothing would induce me to read a line of it; 'tis full of such stupid stuff in these tiresome times of peace."

"You're mistaken; the proceedings in Chambers are extremely interesting to-day."

"The proceedings in Chambers!" the other cried, with comical dismay. "Good heavens, the fellow is reading politics! Leo, Leo, as your true friend, I must warn you: you are in perilous paths; read everything else that you choose,--the trashiest novels, and even poems if you insist upon it, but no politics; you will lose caste. Already you are looked upon askance as a genius, more than half an artist; if it should be whispered about that you are a politician you are ruined, Leo. An officer with an interest in politics is a lost man; if my warning voice has any influence Leo von Heydeck shall never fall so low. Throw the paper away, my dear fellow, and be a man; let us follow the example of our comrades the dragoons, Herr von Bertram and Count Waldheim, and criticise the lovely ladies driving past; this is just the time for it. Look! there comes the fairest of the fair, the richest of the rich, the loveliest of the lovely, divine Eva Schommer!"

Leo von Heydeck suddenly dropped his newspaper and glanced in the direction indicated by his friend, but on the instant his face darkened; he hastily looked around him to observe the effect produced upon the group of officers beneath the awning by the approach of the celebrated beauty, and then quietly took up his paper again and seemed to become more than ever absorbed in it. He did not even look up as the barouche in which the object of so much admiration sat rolled past.

He was, however, the only one upon the veranda who accorded no notice to the fair occupant of the barouche; every officer present gazed after her with the greatest interest, and some few, who had enjoyed the happy privilege of an introduction, saluted her with distinguished courtesy. Among these fortunate individuals were the two dragoons, Herr von Bertram and Count Waldheim; as soon as they were aware of the approach of the equipage each started up from his negligent attitude and standing close behind the balustrade bowed low as if to some princess. Certainly no princess could have acknowledged their salute with a slighter or haughtier inclination of the head than that with which it was received in this instance.

Carelessly leaning back among the satin cushions of the elegant barouche of which she was the sole occupant, Fräulein Eva Schommer seemed to receive the homage offered her but as a fitting tribute to her beauty; no smile played about her pensive mouth as she thus slightly bowed, and her large dark eyes scarcely deigned to rest for an instant upon the two dragoons. Suddenly her cheek flushed a little, and a degree of animation lit up her face for an instant as she shot one fleeting glance at the figure sitting absorbed in the newspaper and not even looking up as her barouche drove past. The next minute she turned away her head and replied most courteously to the passing salutation of a rider, who cantered on a blood horse past her equipage.

Like an apparition the barouche drawn by its pair of thoroughbreds flashed past Büchner's awning and was soon lost to sight as it turned almost immediately into a cross street. With it the degree of excitement which its approach had produced also vanished; the two dragoons took their seats again, put their feet up upon the rail of the balustrade, and balanced themselves after their old elegant fashion.

The younger infantry officer, who had also sprung from his seat and bowed to the lady most courteously without however receiving any acknowledgment in return, now resumed his seat, and regarded his friend still zealously perusing the newspaper with immense astonishment. "This is too much, Leo!" he exclaimed. "There you sit and never even look up as she drives past; have you a heart of stone? You were the only one whom she looked at; the only one of us to whom she deigned a glance, and you pore over your politics all the while as if you meditated mounting the rostrum yourself. 'Pon honour, Leo, she did bestow a look upon you which would have driven many a fellow who had chanced to get it wild."

"You must have been mistaken, Kuno," Leo replied, indifferently, although his friend's words did not seem quite devoid of interest for him, for he folded his paper and laid it aside; perhaps he had entirely finished his perusal of the most interesting proceedings in Chambers.

"Kuno von Herwarth is never mistaken," the young officer said, with mock heroism. "I beg you to remember that I said, 'Upon my honour she bestowed a look upon you,' which entirely forbids all possibility of a mistake on my part."

"Of course," Leo replied, good-humouredly. "I do not doubt you for an instant. Why should the young lady not have accorded us a fleeting glance? I only cannot believe that it rested especially upon me."

"And why not? Were you not presented to Fräulein Schommer by her uncle at the fête-champêtre at Schönsee?"

"True: the young lady was so gracious as to accede to her uncle's request on the occasion, and I could not without discourtesy refuse to be presented."

"Refuse to be presented? Really, Leo, I cannot understand you. There is not one of our comrades who would not think himself lucky if he could contrive an introduction to Fräulein Schommer, and you----"

"I do not join in the universal adulation, the nonsensical idolatry, offered to the lady," Leo interrupted his friend. "I very unwillingly consented to be presented to her, and was justly punished for my consent by the negligent hauteur with which I was received. She scarcely deigned me a glance, and received the few polite remarks which I made to her after my presentation in so indifferent a silence that I had no inducement to pursue a conversation evidently distasteful to her. Afterwards, when by chance my seat was next hers in the boat upon the lake, I again, as courtesy I thought required, said a few words to her, to which however she returned such icy monosyllabic replies that I gladly left her to her conversation with her neighbour on the other side, the old Privy Councillor's wife, Madame von Sturmhaupt, with whom she could talk fast enough."

"Take care of yourself, Leo!" Kuno replied, with a laugh. "This indifference of yours towards Fräulein Schommer does not seem quite genuine. Else why should you be so offended by her cold reception of you when you were presented to her?"

"You are wrong; I am not in the least offended, for I do but share the fate of all those who do not possess at least a million. Otherwise you are perfectly correct in saying that I am not indifferent to Fräulein Eva Schommer,--I do not like her! I will not deny that she is handsome,--extremely handsome,--but her whole bearing is distasteful to me. Pride or, to speak more correctly, self-conceit I always dislike,--purse-pride is inexpressibly odious to me. But enough of this, Kuno; do not let us talk of it: this at all events is not a fit place for such discussion."

"You should have thought of that before, Herr von Heydeck," Lieutenant von Bertram interposed at this point. He had been an attentive listener to the foregoing conversation, and now rose and approached Leo with much arrogance of manner.

Guido von Bertram was about as old as Leo von Heydeck; if mere regularity of features constitute beauty he was the handsomer man, but in his face there was none of the frank manliness which lent such a charm to Von Heydeck. He evidently affected the man of extreme fashion: the eye-glass stuck in his right eye, and the drawling tone of his voice, were in harmony with his entire bearing.

As he stood before Leo von Heydeck he adjusted the said eye-glass more firmly in position, and scanned his opponent most offensively. Leo looked up in surprise; he had been on terms of intimacy with the dragoon in former years, but this intimacy had long since ceased. Bertram's sudden interruption therefore took him quite by surprise; before he could reply Bertram continued, emphasizing each word as he drawled it out, "You have allowed yourself to speak in a highly-offensive manner of a young lady with whom I have the honour to claim acquaintance; I must beg you to retract all that you have said."

The words were too distinct to be misunderstood. Leo perceived that Bertram was endeavouring to step forward as Fräulein Schommer's champion; the tone of the dragoon's voice and his words were so insulting that Leo's eyes flashed angrily; but the next instant he mastered his first impulse of indignation at the sudden attack and admitted to himself that he had been indiscreet. He should never have allowed himself to indulge in any criticism of a lady in so public a place; he was ready to atone as far as was possible for such an indiscretion.

"I regret, Herr von Bertram," he said, quietly, "that words spoken in a strictly private conversation with my friend Herr von Herwarth, and intended solely for his ear, should have reached yours. I can assure you that nothing was further from my thoughts than any insult to Fräulein Schommer."

"This excuse does not satisfy me, Herr von Heydeck. As you spoke sufficiently loud for me involuntarily to overhear every word, your conversation with Herr von Herwarth cannot be considered 'strictly private.' You spoke of annoyance, of conceit, of purse-pride. Although Fräulein Schommer is above all possibility of insult from you, I will not suffer a young lady whose acquaintance I have the honour to claim to be thus spoken of in a public place. I therefore require you instantly to declare your expressions a calumny and to retract them upon the spot."

"Herr von Bertram, let me entreat----" Kuno von Herwarth exclaimed, in dismay; but before he could proceed the dragoon interposed.

"Lieutenant von Herwarth, I must protest against any interference upon your part in this matter between Herr von Heydeck and myself. Since you are a witness to this conversation, you may shortly perchance act the same part in another affair, where you may congratulate yourself upon occupying a neutral position. Therefore I must beg you not to interrupt this conversation." Then, turning to Leo and raising his voice, he continued: "You have heard my demand, Herr von Heydeck; I require immediate compliance with it."

Leo von Heydeck started from his seat at these insolent words; his cheek glowed with indignation, his hand involuntarily sought his sword-hilt, but he quickly recovered himself. He folded his arms, looked down thoughtfully, and then, after a pause that lasted but for an instant, he replied to his insolent opponent with perfect repose of manner, looking him full and calmly in the face the while,--

"You have no right to make any such demand, Herr von Bertram. If you are not bent upon a quarrel you will be satisfied by my reiterated assurance that I had no intention of insulting Fräulein Schommer, and that I regret that words which I had best not have uttered should have been regarded as intentionally insulting. I hope this declaration will satisfy you."

"No, it does not satisfy me. As you do not retract your assertions, you of course maintain them, and force me to assert myself! It is dishonourable,--understand me, Herr von Heydeck,--I repeat, grossly dishonourable to calumniate thus publicly a young lady who cannot defend herself! It is a grossly dishonourable act, which I shall chastise as it deserves!"

Again Leo's eyes flashed, again his cheek flushed scarlet, but he gave no words to his anger. One glance of intense scorn he cast at Bertram, who stood insolently awaiting his reply, and then without a word he turned and left the veranda.

This extraordinary scene had arrested the attention of the other officers present. Bertram's last words had been intentionally spoken so loudly and with such emphasis as to be heard by all, and most of his auditors were justly indignant.

When the dragoon after Leo's departure went with a triumphant smile to take his seat again beside his friend Count Waldheim, he was regarded by his comrades with much disfavour, and expressions of their displeasure reached his ears such as, "An insolent attack!" "An entirely unjustifiable insult!" but he apparently cared little about these utterances of opinion. Perfectly satisfied with his conduct, he began to balance himself again comfortably on the hind legs of his chair, and preserved his self-conceited smile even when Kuno von Herwarth, without a word and with a glance of evident contempt, passed by him to follow his friend.

Count Waldheim however was far from sharing in his content; moving his chair more closely to Bertram's side, he whispered, "What do you mean, Bertram? You have got yourself into trouble, I am afraid, and, if you will pardon the expression, you've committed a great folly."

"Do you think so?" Bertram rejoined in as low a tone, twirling the ends of his moustache. "I assure you I never committed an act of less folly in my life, or one more entirely successful."

"What! you were not carried away then by the impulse of the moment?--you intentionally and designedly offered so deadly an insult to Herr von Heydeck?"

"Intentionally and designedly. I was not in the least irritated, but as calm as ever I was in my life."

"I understand you less than ever then. I am certainly not ignorant in such matters, but I cannot conceive of provoking a mortal quarrel without the slightest provocation. You know Heydeck's reputation as a pistol-shot; he is famous for absolute certainty of aim and steadiness of hand. Are you tired of life, Bertram?"

"Not at all; it is in no danger from Herr von Heydeck," Bertram replied, with the same serenity of manner. "Will you bet with me, Count? I wager ten Friedrichs-d'or that Heydeck pockets my affront,--he will not call me out. Eh?"

"Impossible! You accused him of dishonourable conduct; he must resent such an insult, and----"

"Will you wager?"

"If you choose; but you have lost already. In return I will act as your second."

"No need; Heydeck is too much of a coward to send me a challenge."

"Heydeck a coward? You're dreaming, Bertram. Why, his thorough scorn of danger got him the iron cross at Gravelotte. He is known throughout the entire regiment for his cool courage in facing deadly peril. I know what I am saying; one of my cousins serves in his battalion and is very intimate with him."

Bertram shook his head with a contemptuous smile. "I know him better: we were at school together; I tell you he is a coward who will never dare to call me out. You say he showed courage in the field? Bah! what is courage in the field? Every plough-boy displays it. The coward pushes on there because he is sure of a bullet through his brains if he runs away. You will soon learn to your cost, as far as your purse is concerned, that I am right, but even were I wrong, and he were really to send me a challenge, I should perhaps be better pleased. Let me explain, for I see you shake your head incredulously. I should be only too glad to fight him if thereby I might succeed in gaining one word of gratitude from the lovely Eva, and here I depend upon your friendly services, Count."

"Now I begin to comprehend," Waldheim said, in a tone of surprise; "but the game you are playing, Bertram, is a dangerous one. Are you sure the stakes are worth the winning thus? Fräulein Schommer to be sure is handsome----"

"Wonderfully handsome!"

"And rich too, they say."

"Two millions at least!"

"Very fair; but remember, Bertram, Fräulein Schommer comes from a very low grade of society. Her uncle, Balthasar Schommer, is a common fellow who submits to his niece's petting and scolding like some favourite puppy. I believe her father was a miner, and it is extremely doubtful whether he could read or write his own name although he died the possessor of rich mines and a millionaire. You ought to think twice, Bertram, before you make up your mind to marry into such a connection."

"But you visit at the Schommers', Count?"

"Why not? The old fellow is common enough, but his wine, or rather the fair Eva's, is capital; although really that makes very little difference to me. All the world goes to the Schommers', and why should not I follow its example? If I ever am tired of going there, I have but to cease my visits and cut old Schommer when I meet him. Meanwhile I like very well to talk and dance with the girl who is certainly very lovely; but I never should dream of making her Countess Waldheim."

"Nor should I perhaps, were I the wealthy Count Waldheim, but such scruples are not for a poor Herr von Bertram whose debts are considerably larger than his estate. That which you disdain I covet, and I ask you for your assistance in obtaining it."

"I really cannot see how I can be of assistance to you in so delicate an affair."

"Nevertheless you can. Let me be frank with you; I know you will not abuse my confidence. You know Fräulein Eva,--you know how proud and reserved she is. Between ourselves what Heydeck said of her was true enough. I myself have often suffered from her pride. All my exertions, the most delicate attentions to her that I could devise, have never advanced me one step in her favour. I should long ago have relinquished all pretension to it if she had not treated every one else--yourself, Count, perhaps excepted--with the same coldness and hauteur which I have experienced from her. She cannot be approached after any ordinary fashion, but I hope that to-day I have found out a means of awakening her interest. When she learns how slightingly Heydeck spoke of her, that he was instantly called to account for his expression, and that I was the champion who undertook to vindicate her honour, and defended her at the peril of his life----"

"You have just wagered that Heydeck would not challenge you; the peril then is not so very great."

"True, but she need not know that. The friend who tells her of the zeal with which I undertook her defence might add for my sake that Heydeck is famous as a perfect marksman, and that in case of a duel my life is in the greatest danger."

"And you ask me to be this friend?"

"If you would so far oblige me, my dear Count, I should be forever grateful to you. The charming Eva must take a deep interest in so fearless a defender of her honour. She cannot treat him with the cold formality which she accords to her other adorers. If once the ice is broken, and the smallest opening made in her armour of cold reserve,--if she admits me to the slightest degree of confidence, I will take care of the rest. She is no woman if gratitude to her champion is not at last metamorphosed into love. Will you help me, Count?"

"Hm,--the affair is not greatly to my taste," Count Waldheim slowly answered; "but we have always been good comrades and I will not desert you now; especially since I believe that you really stand in peril of your life,--a peril foolishly incurred by yourself. I will call at the Schommers' and see what I can do for you. She has just driven home, I shall be admitted. Besides, I must leave you at all events. I confess I am not comfortable here where every one is looking at us, and your name is whispered at all the tables."

"Very natural after what has passed."

"But these whispers are by no means complimental to you, my dear fellow; and in fact these comrades of ours are not far wrong in my opinion. In your zeal to make yourself interesting to Fräulein Eva you treated Heydeck badly."

"Bah! he deserved nothing better."

"I will not play your Mentor, but, I do not care to stay here and be stared at any longer,--I am going. We shall meet at dinner at the Casino, and I will report as to my visit at the Schommers'. Good-morning."

"I shall stay here for a while. Au revoir."

And Herr von Bertram stayed, balancing himself as airily as before, and gazing out upon the promenade, but nevertheless he was not quite comfortable. He felt himself the object of universal observation; he noticed that every fresh-comer--each officer who strolled into Büchner's--was informed immediately in a low tone by some one of his comrades of what had occurred. Among these new-comers were several of his own intimates, but none of them, after hearing what there was to tell, came near him or accorded his presence any acknowledgment save by the most commonplace salutation.

At last he rose, and walked through the rows of tables, bowing here and there. He soon perceived how unanimous was the disapproval of his comrades. His more intimate associates who had reason to expect that he would address them evidently avoided him, and the other officers returned his salutation in the coldest manner; some indeed turned away and made as if they were so absorbed in conversation as not to notice him.

He bit his lip angrily and asked himself whether he had not a right to demand an explanation of such conduct. Once when Baron Feldkirch of his own regiment and his intimate acquaintance turned away with only the salutation required in the service, he paused, half resolved to call him to account, but he instantly reflected that it would only make matters worse, and refrained.

He hastily passed on, and felt wonderfully relieved when he reached the open street; really he seemed to have been morally running the gauntlet during the last few moments.

Leo von Heydeck had only gone a few steps after leaving Büchner's when he was joined by Lieutenant von Herwarth. The two young men walked on together for a while in silence, each too busy in reflecting upon the previous scene to care to continue their former conversation.

Kuno von Herwarth was very angry; the unprovoked insult just offered to his friend filled him with indignation against its author. He remembered with much satisfaction the comments upon Bertram's conduct which he had heard expressed upon all sides as he left the veranda, and which were all indignantly condemnatory. Such a unanimous opinion on the part of the corps of officers was very important. It made the necessary consequences of the insult far less damaging to Leo than they usually are in such cases to the insulted man.

"Don't look so grave, Leo," Herwarth said at last "The affair is not so black as you think; fortunately you are sure of your man. Give him a distinct memento--a ball in the upper arm will do--and we shall probably be able to hush up all talk of the duel, which would really be best since the authorities are rather hard upon duelling just now. Of course you will choose pistols? Wing the insolent fellow and have done with him."

Leo looked up at his friend as if awaking from a dream. "I cannot answer you now," he replied. "I am not yet clear in my own mind. You forget how often we have discussed this question. Must I bow now to a prejudice against which I have hitherto contended with all my might? Must I transgress the dictates of morality and my own profound conviction and have recourse to arms to avenge words which, from the lips of a scoundrel like Bertram, have really no power whatever to injure me? You know my views with regard to duelling."

"But you cannot rest calmly beneath such an insult," his friend replied. "Remember, he accused you of dishonourable conduct, and he would add, of cowardice, if you failed to demand satisfaction for the insult! And what would your brother officers think of you?"

"I know all you would say, Kuno," Leo replied, sadly. "I knew you would reason thus, and that almost every one of my brother officers for whom I have any real regard will agree with you. And this is just why it is so difficult for me to come to a determination. I have a hard struggle with myself to pass through,--give me time. Do not ask of me a decided reply at once. This evening after I have taken counsel with myself you shall have it, and I promise you that if I decide to bow to the prejudice in favor of duelling you shall be my second."

"If?" Herwarth cried, indignantly. "How can there be any 'if' in the matter? Have you no blood in your veins? Mine boiled at that 'dishonourable,'--I could hardly keep myself from inflicting summary chastisement upon the insolent fellow. And you to whom it was applied can talk about an 'if' when the question is of the vindication of your honour. Really, Leo, if I had not seen you in the field I might misconceive you! And what will others, who do not know you as I do, think of you? The mere thought of their calling you 'coward' makes me furious! Make up your mind instantly, Leo! Do it for my sake! Upon my life you owe it to me, for rely upon it I never will suffer mortal man to call you coward, and in refusing to fight one duel yourself you'll cause me to fight a dozen."

"Coward!" How could the word fail of its effect upon Leo? His eyes flashed, his cheek burned red to become pale the next instant, and for a while he walked on beside his friend without a word. Then, when he could command himself sufficiently to speak calmly, he said, "Your words are harsh, Kuno, but I can forgive them for I know that you can never think me a coward. Trust me, there is more courage required to brave the condemnation of all who are dear to us than to use sword or pistol. I do not yet know whether my courage now will stand me in stead. I cannot yet decide what to do. Do not make the conflict with myself in this matter harder for me than it is of necessity. If you love me, Kuno, leave me for a while. Be sure I need all the powers of my mind, all the strength that I possess, to come to a determination. This evening you shall learn what that determination is."

Leo paused, shook hands with his friend, and hastily turned and left him.

CHAPTER II.

"Home!"

This order came quite unexpectedly to the coachman. Fräulein Schommer had already enumerated to him the various shops at which he was to stop, and suddenly her plans were changed. Scarcely had the carriage turned off the promenade into "Great Wilhelmstrasse" when she gave this order, although she had not as yet purchased anything.

The young lady held her parasol so closely before her face that it not only shaded it but entirely concealed it; of course she did not perceive the numerous bows and smiles of the acquaintances whom she passed in her short drive home, but could resign herself undisturbed to dreamy reflection. It was of no very pleasant description, as was plain from the grave expression of her face, the defiant curl of her beautiful lip, and the dark almost gloomy look of her black eyes.

The carriage stopped before an elegant villa; the footman opened the door of the barouche, but Eva stepped hastily from the vehicle, scorning his proffered help, and hurried into the house, acknowledging only by a haughty nod the respectful greeting of the porter who stood in the hall. Neither did she deign to notice the footman, who followed her awaiting orders up the broad carpeted marble staircase, until she reached the landing, when she forbade him by an imperious wave of her hand to follow her further, and opened a door leading into the interior apartments of the villa. One of these she entered; it was a small room elegantly and comfortably but by no means splendidly furnished, with windows leading out into the garden.

A young girl coquettishly dressed who was seated at her sewing, sprang up as the young lady entered and hastened towards her. "You are returned very soon, my lady!" she said, as she assisted her to lay aside her hat and light summer wrap.

"How often must I tell you, Nanette, that I detest that silly 'my lady'?"

The reproof was administered with tolerable severity, and was by no means grateful to Nanette, as was shown by her look as she received it. She had learned, however, to control herself. "I beg pardon, Fräulein," she said, with a low courtesy; "I will try to remember, but 'my lady' comes so naturally; and who has a better right to the title than such a beautiful, rich lady as Fräulein Schommer?"

"Hush!" Fräulein Schommer exclaimed, in an imperious tone. "I hate all such speeches! If you really desire to remain in my service you must remember once for all that I forbid all flattery as well as the title 'my lady.'"

Nanette cast one more venomous glance at her mistress, and made a deeper courtesy than before. The young lady, however, noticed neither the one nor the other; she walked up to the mirror and repaired some slight disorder in the arrangement of her magnificent black hair, impatiently disdaining Nanette's proffered help as she asked, "Where is Fräulein von Schlicht? In my room or in the garden?"

"The Fräulein is on the veranda with her embroidery."

At this reply Eva turned to her maid impatiently and asked sternly, "Are you transgressing my orders intentionally, or do you not know that I have especially requested that all the servants of my household shall speak of Fräulein Aline von Schlicht as the 'Lady Aline'?"

"I cannot possibly give a hired companion a higher title than my mistress! I thought because----"

"When I command you are not to think, but to obey," Eva interrupted the girl; "and I require you to give Fräulein von Schlicht the title of 'Lady,' which belongs to her. Nor is Fräulein von Schlicht in my service, as you appear to think; she is not my hired companion, but my friend who does me the honour to reside with me, and as such you are to respect her, and to obey her commands even more strictly than my own. Any forgetfulness in this respect will be punished by immediate dismissal from my service."

Of course there was no answer to be made to all this: Eva would have suffered none; she never noticed that Nanette's face grew scarlet,--that an ugly expression of hatred disfigured the otherwise pretty mouth,--nor that the maid's hand trembled as she opened the door leading into the next room for her mistress to pass. Eva left the apartment without even glancing at the girl.

Nanette, as the door closed behind her mistress, clenched her little fist and shook it menacingly, while her whole face showed the malice that she felt. Suddenly her gaze fell upon the mirror, and she started at the countenance reflected there. She stood before it and tried to smile; at first in vain,--those hateful lines were too firmly fixed about the mouth, but they must be banished. Nanette saw herself how ugly they were, and what must be done she could do,--she was not wanting in strength of will.

After spending some time before the mirror, every trace of the disfigurement which anger at the imperiously-administered reproof had produced, vanished. She contemplated the reflection of her pretty face and figure with immense self-satisfaction; she nodded pleasantly to herself, and then stepping on tiptoe to the door leading to the next room, opened it noiselessly a very little way so that through the chink she could command a view of the apartment and of the veranda adjoining.

She bestowed no attention whatever on the luxuriously furnished drawing-room. It had interested her somewhat a few days before when she had first entered Fräulein Schommer's service; she had then examined admiringly the costly furniture and the splendid pictures upon the walls, while a bitter feeling of envy of the possessor of all these treasures had filled her soul. Since then she had dusted and arranged them frequently and she no longer admired. Admiration had vanished, envy still existed in full force.

Nanette's attention was concentrated upon the veranda, upon which the drawing-room opened by two tall glass folding-doors. Sitting there in the thick shade of a leafy climbing vine was a young lady, her hands for the moment resting idly upon some embroidery in her lap. Her back was towards Nanette so the girl could not see her face, and the distance was too great to allow of her understanding what she said,--the low voice reached the listener's ears only as a gentle murmur.

Beside this young lady Eva was sitting on a garden-chair. She too was gazing abroad into the garden with her back towards the maid. She spoke also in her turn but in so low a tone that not one syllable could be distinguished by the listener. In vain did she strain her ears: she so longed to overhear what the ladies were talking about, but she soon found that this would be impossible unless she could contrive to slip into the drawing-room and conceal herself in the embrasure of one of the windows.

She could not lose so delightful an opportunity of learning from the intimate conversation of the two friends what could have put Fräulein Schommer into such an ill humour to-day, and her resolution was soon taken. Cautiously opening the door a little wider she entered the drawing-room and had just noiselessly advanced to the centre of the apartment when Fräulein Eva suddenly turned round and flashed a look of indignant surprise upon the detected eavesdropper, who stopped short reddening with mortification, and uncertain whether to advance or withdraw.

"What do you want there?"

This question, conveying reproof not in words but in manner, restored to Nanette all her wonted self-sufficiency. She quietly stepped out on the veranda before replying, and then said, "I heard you call, Fräulein Schommer. What are your orders?"

Eva was not misled by this reply. The maid's sudden confusion had betrayed her, and she easily guessed for what she had been slipping so noiselessly into the drawing-room. With undisguised contempt in her look she said sternly, "That is a falsehood! You know that I never call,--that I always ring for you when I have any orders to give. You were listening!"

"Oh Fräulein Schommer what an accusation to make! I assure you----"

"Hush! Not a word! I will not be contradicted! Your colour your confusion betrayed you. I will let it pass this time, but if ever again I find you listening I shall dismiss you instantly!"

"But, Eva dear, do not be so hard," her companion interposed. "What possible temptation could Nanette have to listen to our conversation? You are wronging her!"

"Heaven knows I never wanted to listen!" Nanette cried, in an injured tone. "I thought Fräulein Schommer called,--indeed, indeed, that was why I came! I never listened in my life, and I would rather cut my tongue out than tell a falsehood. I do not deserve to be accused of such things! I am perfectly innocent, and it hurts my feelings very much to have Fräulein Schommer suspect me so."

Nanette put her handkerchief to her eyes, and from behind it came inarticulate sounds that were really a creditable imitation of suppressed sobbing, but her clever acting failed to impose upon her mistress. Eva was not easily shaken in her convictions, and least of all could Nanette's theatrical asseverations move her.

"I will not hear another word!" she said as sternly as before. "You know now what you have to expect if you are ever found listening again. Go to your sewing, and if I want you I will ring for you!"

This command was so imperative that Nanette did not venture another word in self-defence,--a very successful sob was her only reply. While she was passing through the drawing-room she kept her handkerchief up to her eyes, but once more alone, with the door closed behind her, she tossed it aside and for a few minutes gave herself up to the envious rage that possessed her. When she had grown quite calm once more, and had, by a glance into the mirror, assured herself that her pretty face retained no trace of her agitation, she left the little room, leaving the door open that she might hear any summons from the veranda, and went into the hall.

Here she found the footman who had attended his mistress during her drive pacing slowly to and fro; he was a fine-looking young fellow, with a fresh good-humoured face; his handsome livery became him excellently well.

Nanette gave him her friendliest smile. "Good-morning, Wilhelm," she whispered, evidently pleased. He returned her greeting with undisguised admiration in look and tone.

"Don't speak so loud, Wilhelm. Fräulein Schommer need not overhear us if I like to talk a little with you."

"Would you like to talk a little with me, Nanette? That's kindly of you now. I thought you never meant to take notice of me; you've hardly said one word to me in the three days since you came, and when I was so glad that we were going to have the same mistress."

"What else could I do? Haven't I to sit in that little den all day long just listening for Fräulein Schommer's bell? A pretty fuss she would make if I chanced not to hear it!"

"Come now Nanette, she is not so bad as you think,--a little strict perhaps,--but mind your orders and you never hear a hard word from her."

"She's a fiend! a Zantuppy!" Nanette rejoined, pettishly.

"A Zantuppy?" Wilhelm asked, astonished. "What is a Zantuppy?"

Nanette regarded the ignorant fellow with condescending compassion. "You have had no education, Wilhelm!" she said. "Every one who knows anything calls every scolding woman a Zantuppy. I'd Zantuppy her if I could with her proud and haughty airs treating us as if we were the dirt under her feet!"

Here she suddenly recollected how her anger disfigured her, and compelling her features to a smile that contrasted strangely with her words, she went on: "And to-day she's bristling like a porkypine; first she scolded me for saying 'my lady' to her, and then for not saying it to the stupid companion."

"But that's nothing, Nanette; she doesn't like to be called my lady; and if she wants us to bow and scrape to the lady Aline von Schlicht, 'tis easy done,--and the place is a good one. I've lived in the first families; but such meals, and such perquisites! Rely upon it, Nanette, you'll like it and thank me yet for helping to get you here. If Fräulein Schommer gets out of bed the wrong side now and then never mind it,--she's the right stuff at heart. She is a little out of sorts to-day. I saw that when she so suddenly gave orders to drive home, although she had not been to a single shop."

"She is in a bad humour then? I knew it; she flew at me as if she would eat me. What went amiss? Did anything vex her on the drive?"

"Not that I know of. We had scarcely driven through the promenade when she suddenly called out, 'Home!'"

"Something's wrong. Perhaps she's in love. Did you meet any one who did not seem pleased enough to see her?"

"What queer ideas you have, Nanette! She never thinks of such things,--never looks at a man. With all her millions she's twenty-two and unmarried. She might furnish a worsted-shop with all the mittens she's given the men, if she could collect them."

"Of course any one as rich as she can give as many mittens as she chooses; there are always men enough to hanker after money, but there are some who don't care for it."

"And that's true enough, Nanette," Wilhelm replied, with a grin. "Now here am I, who never think of money when I see such a pretty face as yours."

Nanette rewarded the compliment with her best smile. "But then you're different from most of these grand gentlemen. Still, some have ideas of their own. Now there's Count Waldheim, whom I used to see every day when I lived with the Privy Councillor's lady, Frau von Sturmhaupt. This princess of ours might throw her millions at his feet and he wouldn't stoop to pick them up. All the money in the world wouldn't persuade him to look at any one who had not a 'von' to her name."

"You're out there, Nanette. Count Waldheim comes here often, and likes our Fräulein extremely well. It is 'charming Fräulein Schommer,' and 'lovely Fräulein Schommer,' and she treats him better than any of the young men who come here."

"Count Waldheim visits here?" Nanette asked, in surprise. "Well, I wouldn't have thought it;--and our princess likes him? I'll lay my head she's in love with him, and he wouldn't have her if she had shovelfuls of money. I bet you she met him to-day when she was out driving, and he never bowed to her."

"Out again, Nanette! We didn't meet him, but we saw him; he was sitting at Büchner's under the awning with Herr von Bertram, the nephew of your old mistress, Frau von Sturmhaupt, and he bowed so low that he almost bumped his nose against the bar of the balustrade. Fräulein Eva has no heart-ache for him, nor for any of the rest of them; they all bow when she drives past, as if she were a princess. Only one man sat still and read the newspaper without looking at us; but he does not visit here, and I don't think our Fräulein knows him."

"Indeed! Who was he?"

"Lieutenant von Heydeck of the infantry. Why should our Fräulein look at the infantry when she can have cavalrymen by the dozens?"

"That's just why she doesn't care for them. 'Tis sure to be Herr von Heydeck whom she's vexed about. I don't know him. Is he handsome?"

"I don't know; he looks like all the other infantry fellows. I never trouble my head about him. What does it all concern us?"

"It is just what does concern us!" Nanette replied, peevishly. "I'll find out all my fine lady's tricks and teach her who I am! I tell you, Wilhelm, we can do what we please with our masters and mistresses if we only can find out their secrets; and to do that we must keep our eyes and ears open and help each other, for what one doesn't see the other may. So you must tell me everything that you learn, in or out of the house, Wilhelm, and I'll put this and that together."

Nanette's proposition did not appear to find much favour with Wilhelm.

"I'll tell you what, Nanette," he said. "I'd like nothing better than to please you, but you'd better leave me out of this. I've no fancy for spying on my mistress. I do my work and no more bother."

"But if I were to beg you, dear Wilhelm?" Nanette asked, tenderly laying her hand upon his shoulder and looking sweetly into his face,--indeed, she was extremely pretty. "If I were to promise you a kiss," she continued, "would you refuse to do what I ask?"

The bribe was so seductive that honest Wilhelm's principles were hardly strong enough to withstand the maid's request, coming as it did from lips so rosy and inviting. Her cause was half won when he asked, with some hesitation, "But what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing wrong, Wilhelm dear," the girl hastily answered; "nothing wrong. I wouldn't ask it of you, but really we poor servants must stand by each other if we wouldn't be trodden down into the very dirt. Is it wrong in us to use the eyes and ears that God gave us? We are human beings, and ought to know all that is going on around us. Keep your eyes open when you drive out with our Fräulein, and never forget who meets or speaks to her. And when you are waiting at table you can pick up many a bit of information,--you must tell me what they talk about. That's no wrong: you tell no one's secrets. If you'll only do this, Wilhelm dear, I'll like you so much, and give you a kiss, or perhaps two, for every piece of news you bring me. You shall have one now if you'll promise to do as I say."

The temptation was too great. Wilhelm could not resist. He gave a prompt "yes," and for his reward took not one but a dozen kisses. Nanette seeming nothing loth, he might have gone on receiving prepayment for his services had he not been startled by a loud exclamation behind him, followed by the words, in most distinct Saxon German,--

"By Jove! Deuce take the fellow! A pretty household this! and in broad daylight, too!"

The speaker was an elderly gentleman, dressed with extreme elegance, who had been contemplating the embrace from the staircase-landing, his fine Panama hat on his head, and his hands resting upon his gold-headed cane. He continued to observe the couple with a good-humoured smile, as they stood as if spell-bound in dismay.

When, however, Wilhelm had sufficiently recovered himself to recognize the elderly spectator, he looked much relieved. "Don't be frightened, Nanette," he whispered; "'tis only our Fräulein's Uncle Balthasar. You won't tell of us, Herr Schommer? 'An honest kiss ne'er comes amiss.'"

Herr Balthasar took the request in very good part, made though it was rather familiarly than respectfully. He nodded good-humouredly to Wilhelm, pinched Nanette's blooming cheek, and smiled broadly. "A kiss," he said,--"a kiss, to be sure, is all very well, but you took a dozen, you deuce of a fellow. If I should tell my wife or my niece you're both done for."

Wilhelm seemed little disturbed by the threat. "You wouldn't be so hard on us, Herr Schommer," he said; and his security was fully justified by the good nature that characterized this uncle of his mistress.

Herr Balthasar Schommer was a personification of good humour. It beamed pure and unadulterated from his small gray eyes, it was distinctly stamped on the broad smile of his large mouth. Whoever had once seen Herr Balthasar knew that he could rely with certainty upon his thorough goodness of heart. There was no guile in the man; his round face was the mirror of his character. Try as the old gentleman would by twirling the ends of his gray moustache straight into the air to give himself a stern, martial air, no one was ever deceived by it.

"I'll let you off this once, deuce take you!" he said, vainly endeavouring to make his words sound stern and dignified; "but another time take care. And you too, you little minx," he went on, turning to Nanette; "for I can tell you that if my niece had seen you--ah, by Jove!"

Again he pinched the girl's cheek, then laughed heartily, and tapped Wilhelm on the shoulder with his cane. Then with a farewell nod he went into the drawing-room to find his niece.

"Won't he tell?" Nanette whispered anxiously as the door closed behind him.

"Never!" Wilhelm replied in a tone of firm conviction. "Herr Balthasar wouldn't for the world do an unkind thing by any one. Oh, he's a splendid old gentleman!"

"He's a foolish old fop!" Nanette rejoined, saucily; "looking at me so and pinching my cheek. It's my belief he'd have liked a kiss himself."

"Well, you might have given him one, Nanette; I wouldn't have been jealous."

Nanette's face grew dark, and she would have made some cutting rejoinder, but she bethought herself in time that it behooved her to keep Wilhelm in good humour, so she contented herself with saying, "Thank you kindly for your permission, which I shall not need, however. The vain old fool! He looks like a bedizened monkey in his light summer costume. You can see with half an eye that he once weighed out sugar and sold molasses. He can't hide that for all the big diamond in his shirt-front. And then such language! 'Bai Chove!' and 'teuce of a vellow!' at every third word. It is scandalous that a girl who has always lived in the best families should have taken service with such riff-raff!"

In her zeal and irritation she had quite forgotten her resolution always to be amiable when Wilhelm was by; one glance into his honest face reminded her of this, and she forthwith controlled herself. None too soon, however; for Wilhelm had just made the discovery that pretty Nanette could be very cross and look almost ugly.

"I don't know what you mean, Nanette," he said, with much less warmth. "What has the good old man done to you? He is so good-hearted that I should think no one could be angry with him."

"I am not angry with him," Nanette answered, aware that she had made a blunder, and anxious to repair it if possible. "I see he is a very good-humoured old man; but when a girl has lived in the first families, it is very difficult for her to become accustomed to low-bred manners. If you were not here, Wilhelm, I could not stand it three days longer; but for your sake I will stay, if you will keep your promise to me. We have talked enough now, and I must go to my sewing, or Fräulein Eva will know where I have been."

She kissed the tips of her fingers to Wilhelm, whose irritation she had thus quickly appeased, and returning to the small room adjoining the drawing-room seated herself by the window and took up the sewing which she had put down upon Fräulein Schommer's return from driving.

CHAPTER III.

"You really are too severe with poor Nanette," Fräulein Aline von Schlicht said to the young heiress.

Eva Schommer was conscious that there was justice in her friend's reproof. Her impulsive temperament often led her to make use of hasty expressions which she regretted afterwards, especially if she had been actuated by anger, and she frequently seemed to show an insensibility to the feelings of others which was by no means part of her character. When she was irritated she would rebuke any omission of duty upon the part of her servants with an undeserved severity, and she admitted to herself that this had just been the case with Nanette. She had reproved the girl upon mere suspicion as sharply as if the fault had been proven. She was vexed with herself for her hastiness, but the dislike with which Nanette's whole conduct had inspired her, and her conviction that the girl had actually tried to play the part of eavesdropper, were by no means weakened.

"You are right, Aline," she said, sadly; "I am ashamed of myself, but I could not help it. The girl is so odious to me that I cannot conceive how I came to take her into my service. I really think it would be best to give her a quarter's or even a half-year's wages, and dismiss her."

"Do not be unjust, Eva. Has she given you any good reason to send her away? Have you any right to break the contract which you tacitly concluded with her when you engaged her as your maid?"

"But I will not break it. I will indemnify her duly."

"With money? Can it be done? If you send her away after three days in your service, will it not be thought that she has been guilty of great misconduct, perhaps even of dishonesty? Can money repair the harm done to the girls reputation? How often you have told me how you despise the wretched dross, and yet you propose to atone with money for the wrong you will do poor Nanette by suddenly dismissing her from your service without reason!"

"I will not do it, my dear, good Aline!" Eva cried, kissing her friend tenderly. "You are my good angel," she continued; "you are always right; I see how unjust I should be. I was wrong to take the girl into my service simply upon Frau von Sturmhaupt's recommendation and Wilhelm's request, when, in spite of her pretty face and figure, I was not at all prepossessed by her, but now that I have made the mistake I must bide by the consequences. I should have trusted my first impressions and not taken her into the house. My dislike to her, which increases daily, may easily make me unjust to her. Her affected smile, her hypocritical humility, and her whole manner, indeed, confirm my want of confidence in her. I do not believe her even when she is telling the truth. I suspect her always of some sly ulterior motive in all she says."

"Are you not unjust again, Eva dear? You are prejudiced against the girl, and see faults in her which I fail to discover. To me she seems amiable and willing. I have not known her to tell a falsehood. She is neat, capable, and industrious, pleasant in her manner, and in short, so far as I can judge from the few days she has been in your service, she possesses all the qualities of an excellent lady's-maid. That she is honest and trustworthy is proved by the excellent character she brought you from Frau von Sturmhaupt, with whom she lived several years."

"Why did she leave if Frau von Sturmhaupt was satisfied with her?"

"Nanette told you herself that as she has an old mother dependent upon her, she was obliged to ask higher wages than Frau von Sturmhaupt--who is by no means wealthy--felt herself justified in giving. I cannot see that we have any reason to doubt the truth of this explanation. Is it not natural that a poor girl should try to improve her condition?"

"I cannot argue the matter, Aline. All that you say is perfectly correct, and nevertheless something that I can neither explain nor contend with convinces me that Nanette is false, that her amiability is hypocrisy, and that she returns with interest my dislike. I know she hates me, and that she will show me that she does so as soon as she has the opportunity."

"You will not allow such a vague 'something' to influence you?"

"No, Aline; I will follow your advice. I will try to conquer my prejudice--for I confess that my dislike of Nanette is prejudice--but I cannot promise more. I will not testify towards her the dislike with which she inspires me, but I cannot command my confidence, and I cannot pretend to show her any."

"She has no right at present to ask that you should. Your confidence in her must be the result of faithful performance of her duties; and I hope she will succeed in winning it, for you are too dear and good not to resign a prejudice as soon as you know that it is unjust."

"I will try, my darling Aline," said Eva, taking her friend's hand and tenderly kissing it, "I will try, and perhaps I shall succeed since you are with me, for you are, as I said, my good angel. When I look into your kind, loving eyes, and hear your gentle words, I think I can be better; my wild, impulsive nature grows calm. I am not dear and good, as you call me, Aline. I know I am not, but I want to be so. When I see your heavenly gentleness and repose, I feel how hateful are my hasty judgments, my sharp hard words, my unfeminine obstinacy. I long to be like you, but I cannot; I forget all my good resolutions as soon as I am provoked. I know how odious this is, and, when I think of it, I cannot conceive how you, who are so infinitely better and gentler than I, can love me. Oh, if I could only be like you!"

Aline returned her friend's kiss, and said, with a smile, "Who would believe that the charming Eva could be guilty of such folly, that the proud beauty whom all adore could wish to resemble poor insignificant me, whom no one cares for except the friend whose affection blinds her? No, stay as you are, dear, for as you are you conquer every heart."

The lovely, gentle smile that had transfigured Eva's face as she had caressed her friend vanished at Aline's last words, her dark eyes flashed, and the lines about her mouth grew hard. "Yes," she said, bitterly, "as I am I conquer the hearts of all the men who have set their hearts on my wretched millions, the most unfortunate inheritance which my good father could have bequeathed to me. He never dreamed, while he laboured night and day to give wealth to his darling child, that this miserable money would be the curse of her existence, poisoning her very soul!"

Aline looked at her, with a smile. "If your wealth is your greatest misfortune," she said, gayly, "I am afraid you will find but little sympathy for it among your heartless fellow-mortals, and that you will be obliged to learn to endure with stoicism the burden of your millions."

"You too, Aline!" Eva cried, reproachfully. "Can you consider wealth a blessing? I know perfectly well that others envy me, but if they dreamed what misery this wretched money has brought me, how it daily embitters every enjoyment of life, filling my mind with distrust and suspicion, making me despise those about me, they would give me pity instead of envy. Wherever I go I am received with delight and loaded with courtesies. I? No, my millions! I represent to these sordid souls their idol,--wealth. I am nothing to them but the heiress, and as such beautiful, lovely, talented, fêted and caressed wherever I go. Have I not known this from my earliest childhood? Gray-headed servants cringed and yielded to every wish of the spoiled wayward child, finding all that she did charming and attractive because she was an heiress. Can I be happy in kindness shown not to me but to my money? As soon as I appear in society all the men vie with each other in doing me homage. One flatters me, another exerts all his wit to entertain me, a third sighs and languishes at my feet,--and it is all a lie, all wretched hypocrisy! These very men who flatter and woo me would never accord me a moment's notice if I were poor. Oh it is hard to be obliged to repeat over and over to one's self, 'You yourself are nothing; these wretches adore your millions, not you!' What do they care although I treat them with the greatest arrogance and contempt? I am rich, and all I say and do is charming, and would be although I united in my one character every possible vice. I despise them and show them that I do so, and they adore me! They sue for my hand and not one thinks whether I can be a faithful, loving wife. I bring the man whom I marry millions, and who cares whether a heart accompanies them? The more persistently they pay court to me the more I am humiliated in my own eyes, the more thoroughly I hate these miserable, sordid men! Yes, I hate them so thoroughly that even that vain aristocrat, Count Waldheim, and that blasé fop, Paul Delmar, seem delightful to me, only because I know that they never think of marrying me; they at least are not to be bought with my money. Waldheim's pride of birth protects him from such degradation, and Delmar is richer than I; he wants none of my fortune."

"Poor child!" Aline said, sadly.

"Yes, you are right now!" Eva continued, with emotion. "I am poor, terribly poor; in the midst of my wealth I am destitute of everything that constitutes happiness. It is a sad fate, indeed, never to be loved for one's self alone!"

"Never, Eva?" Aline asked, reproachfully. "Do you mistrust me?"

"No, never!" the girl cried. "You and dear old Uncle Balthasar are the only people in the whole world whom I really love and trust with my whole heart,--you two, and perhaps Aunt Minni, who, I think, gives me as much affection as she can spare from her lap-dog Azor. If it were not for you I should be desperate indeed in this cold heartless sordid world!"

"Because you see the world much more cold heartless and sordid than it really is,--because you regard men with a suspicion that they do not deserve. I cannot comprehend how you can be so mistaken as to believe that every one who comes near you to show you kindness or preference thinks only of your fortune,--that every man who wooes you desires your money only. Look in your mirror, and if you are not blind it must tell you that your beauty----"

"Not another word, Aline! You argue against yourself. Is all their homage paid to my beauty? Why, this is almost worse than if it were paid to my wealth. How can beauty without mind and heart attract any man of genuine worth? Because they all praise my beauty I despise them the more. Has one of the crowd about me ever had an opportunity of discovering whether I possess either heart or intellect? I scarcely reply to their flatteries; I treat them with the cold contempt that they merit, but they cringe all the more. Remember that fête at Schönsee. I was in the worst of humours, and intentionally as disagreeable as possible; you, on the contrary, were as charming, as lovely, as--well, as you always are. You are much handsomer than I."

"But, Eva----!"

"Let me finish. You have brought this on yourself. I know that I am not ill-looking, but I am not so conceited as to compare myself with you. And that day you looked so lovely that I was positively enchanted with you. The air had deepened the colour on your cheeks, your glorious blue eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and as the wind played among the golden curls on your forehead you looked like some angel just flown down from heaven."

"Oh, Eva, Eva!"

"I will not be silenced; you shall hear me out. You were so lovely and so gay, you talked so charmingly that all the women envied me for having such a friend. And the men? they crowded about me, unamiable, silent, repellant as I was, and neglected you who were all loveliness. But no; now I recollect. Lieutenant von Herwarth did not neglect you; but he was the only one who bestowed upon me no more than a due share of attention, and therefore I liked him better than all the others."

Aline's cheeks flushed crimson at this mention of Lieutenant von Herwarth, and Eva laughed merrily. But it was her turn to blush when Aline, recovering from her embarrassment, said, "Herr von Heydeck certainly paid you no especial attention,--he and Herwarth make two; so you see all the men do not deserve your censure."

"I will except Herwarth for your sake!" Eva replied, gayly.

"And Herr von Heydeck?"

"I know him too slightly. I suppose he would have been like all the rest, but I scarcely spoke to him when Uncle Balthasar presented him."

"And he took it very ill of you, my dear," said a deep voice behind the two girls.

It was Uncle Balthasar who thus interrupted them; he had come through the drawing-room without being perceived by the two friends, whose faces were turned towards the garden, and he now stepped out upon the veranda. Nodding pleasantly to his niece and raising his straw hat to her friend, he drew a chair up to the table at which they were sitting and took his place beside them.

Uncle Balthasar was conscious of the possession of an important and interesting piece of news, and he comported himself accordingly. He did all that he could to assume a grave and dignified expression, succeeding but ill however, for the good-humoured smile would not resign its wonted place upon his face and shone through his affected gravity. He twirled his moustache until the two ends pointed directly upwards, then folded his arms and cast down his eyes reflectively, never stooping to pick up his gold-headed cane, usually his favourite toy, when it fell on the floor at his feet.

The two girls exchanged a smiling glance of mutual understanding; they knew Uncle Balthasar, and that he was longing to impart to them some fresh piece of gossip.

Eva, always ready to please him, opened the way for him by a question: "You come from the city, uncle? Is there any news? You look so solemnly important that we are dying of curiosity."

Uncle Balthasar gave his moustache a fresh twirl and nodded with exceeding gravity. "There is bad news," he said, slowly and seriously; "yes, yes, my dear, very bad news, I can assure you. The thing occurred as I tell you. I had just drunk my usual can, and was sauntering home, when I met Count Waldheim, or rather he overtook me and tapped me on the shoulder. 'Good-morning, Herr Balthasar,' said he. 'Count, your most obedient servant,' said I. 'How is your niece to-day?' said he. 'Thanks for your kind inquiry; she is very well,' said I. And we went on talking most sociably."

Here he paused and looked thoughtfully at the mosaic top of the table before him, pondering how to convey his news to his listeners in the most impressive manner.

But Eva misunderstood him; she thought he had finished, and she said, laughing, "And is this your bad news, uncle?"

Uncle Balthasar was quite offended by his niece's tone and words, and gave vent to this feeling with all the sharpness in voice and manner of which he was capable,--"I take your sneer extremely ill, my dear. I take the greatest pains to consider how best to spare your feelings in telling you what Count Waldheim has just told me of Herr von Heydeck, and you sneer at me. My dear, you are wrong, very wrong."

The merry smile vanished from Eva's face at her uncle's mention of the name of Heydeck; she blushed and looked up at him eagerly. "Don't be angry with me, uncle dear," she begged, "I did not mean to offend you. Pray go on."

"I am not angry," the kindly old man declared, "but you have quite put me out. I wanted to spare your feelings, and now I really do not know how to begin."

"Spare my feelings? Has any misfortune occurred?" Eva asked, anxiously. "But no, that is impossible! I saw Herr von Heydeck hardly half an hour ago, under Büchner's awning."

"Just so; it was at Büchner's that the affair took place. One of them will of course be killed; probably Herr von Bertram, for Herr von Heydeck is sure of his man at a hundred paces."

"For God's sake what has happened? I pray you do not keep me in suspense!"

"Why you see, Eva my dear, I don't know very well myself. I only know what Count Waldheim told me. He was there when Herr von Heydeck, under Büchner's awning, abused you, and Herr von Bertram would not permit it; and so they both went at it. The Count says there must be a duel, for Herr von Bertram flew into such a rage that Herr von Heydeck must challenge him and shoot him of course. But Herr von Bertram won't mind giving his life for you in the least. That's what the Count said; and he was coming to tell you all about it, but meeting me, he said I would do just as well. He would send Herr von Bertram himself, who could tell you everything. And that's all I know about it."

And Uncle Balthasar, leaning back in his chair with an air of immense satisfaction, picked up his cane, and lightly tapped with it his patent leather boot-tips.

Eva had listened eagerly to all he had to say, growing alternately red and pale the while. When she heard that Herr von Heydeck had spoken ill of her, her black eyes flashed and her cheeks burned with mortification; when she heard that Bertram had been her champion, she grew pale. That he--he whom of all her numerous admirers she most hated--should have undertaken her defence, and against Heydeck! Her heart beat violently: a mist came before her eyes; she sank back half fainting into the arms of Aline, who kissed her brow tenderly and compassionately.

Uncle Balthasar, seeing the effect his narrative had produced upon his niece, started to his feet. "Eva my dear girl, what is the matter?" he cried, frightened out of his wits. "The doctor! where is the doctor? Where is the bell? Send Wilhelm for the doctor!"

In the wildest distress he ran hither and thither, perfectly uncertain what to do; but his anxiety soon ceased, for Eva quickly recovered herself and arose. "Compose yourself, uncle," she said, gently, "I am not ill; the fright overcame me for a moment, but I need no physician. I am quite strong again and ready for what must be done! This duel must not take place!" She took from the table before her a little silver bell and rang it violently.

"What are you going to do?" Aline asked, with anxiety.

"I do not know just yet; I only know that a duel must be prevented,--prevented at all hazards."

Nanette instantly obeyed her mistresses summons, and was devoured with curiosity at sight of Eva's pale face and flashing eyes, although she received her orders without any sign of interest. "Send Wilhelm," Eva said, "to Lieutenant von Bertram. If he does not find him at home, let him go after him, wherever he is, and beg him to come to me as quickly as possible. I will await him here on the veranda."

"But, Eva, you must not do this," Aline interposed. "What will Herr von Bertram think of such an invitation?"

"What are conventional forms to me when two human lives are at stake? No, Aline, I shall follow the dictates of duty; nothing that you can say will shake my resolution. Dearly as I love to follow your advice, I cannot do so now. What are you waiting for, Nanette? Do you not understand my orders?"

"I thought perhaps the Lady Aline----"

Eva was about to give vent to the irritation caused her by these words, but she remembered in time her late conversation with Aline, and she merely said, in a gentler tone than she was used to employ towards Nanette, "I wish Wilhelm to request Herr von Bertram to come to me as soon as possible. Make haste and carry him my orders. Go!"

Then, when Nanette had left the veranda, she turned to Uncle Balthasar: "Will you do me a favour, uncle dear?"

"A thousand if you will, my darling. You know I do everything that you wish," Uncle Balthasar hastened to assure her.

"Then pray go to Count Waldheim. I am afraid Wilhelm will not find Herr von Bertram, but Count Waldheim will surely know where he is. I must see Herr von Bertram. Bring him to me, there's a dear good uncle!"

"You shall have him, my pet, you shall have him! I'll bring him to you, be sure, my poor little darling! I know where to find him. Count Waldheim told me he was to dine with him at the Casino. You shall have him; I'll bring him."

CHAPTER IV.

With feverish impatience Eva awaited the arrival of Lieutenant von Bertram, an impatience all the more intense from her inability to hasten his visit, accustomed though she were to an instant fulfilment of her every wish.

Eva was one of fortune's spoiled darlings; her father, who from being a common day-labourer had become the possessor of mines and millions, cherished an idolatrous affection for his daughter. Was she not an only child, the very image of the wife whom he had wooed for very many years only to have her snatched from him by death after one short year of marriage?

Karl Schommer was universally held to be a hard, cold, stern man, capable of only one passion--avarice. One woman, she to whom he had given his whole heart, knew what he really was. For her sake, to win for his wife the daughter of his wealthy, purse-proud employer, Schommer had laboured with superhuman energy, and embarked his first accumulated earnings in speculation. Everything that he attempted succeeded. He won wealth, and with wealth the woman whom he loved. Her death was a terrible blow; it would have crushed him had he not been sustained by a sense of duty. He had a sacred charge to fulfil in care for the little motherless daughter whom his dying wife had put into his arms with her last loving smile.

To little Eva he henceforth devoted himself with all the unselfish tenderness which he had shown to his early-lost wife. For her he continued to labour with the same restless energy and with the same success as heretofore. The child needed a woman's care; the anxious father would not entrust it to a hired nurse, but he bethought himself of his sister-in-law, the wife of his brother Balthasar, and he begged her to take charge of his motherless little one.

It was no easy matter for Aunt Minni to make up her mind to leave beautiful Dresden, where she kept a thriving haberdasher's shop; but persuaded thereto by her kindly husband, who loved his brother dearly, she did leave it and undertake to preside over her brother-in-law's household and to take charge of little Eva.

Karl Schommer could not have provided better for his child's physical welfare than by summoning his sister-in-law to his aid. Never was there a more devoted aunt and nurse, and she was rewarded by seeing her charge develop into a strong, healthy child.

It was decidedly questionable however whether Aunt Minni's capacity for undertaking Eva's mental culture were equally good; but of this Karl Schommer thought not at all. His own education was very defective; it never troubled him that his brother and his brother's wife were alike uncultivated; it was enough for him that they loved his child almost as tenderly as he did himself.

There could hardly have been worse training for a child than that under which the little Eva grew up, and but for her admirable natural endowments of disposition and intellect, she must have been entirely ruined by the constant and injudicious indulgence with which she was treated.

She was still very young when her father died; her home-education was after this neither better nor worse than it had been before. She tyrannized over the entire household, over her teachers and schoolmates. Only one of these last would not bend before her: this was Aline, her present companion.

Aline was quite as clever as Eva; they were rivals for first honours in school and out. Out of this rivalry there grew a friendship between them that ended only with their lives. Aline was the daughter of a man of rank, who occupied a high position under government, but who was dependent upon his official salary for the means to support an extremely expensive family. He died suddenly, and there was no course open for his daughter but to turn her talents to account in earning her own living.

No sooner did Eva hear of her friend's misfortune than she sought her out, and did not relax her entreaties and persuasions until the poor orphan had agreed to live with her, occupying the position of a dear sister.

Since the day when Aline had obeyed the call of the young heiress and dwelt beneath her roof a new existence had begun for Eva. She gladly resigned herself to the guidance of her wiser and better-disciplined friend, whom she often called her good angel, and to whom she clung with intense affection.

To-day for the first time she had refused to listen to her friend; but for the first time also her heart had made itself heard. Were not two human lives at stake? While she waited she passed in review in her memory all her past intercourse with Bertram and Heydeck, she recalled every word spoken to her by either.

She had frequently met Bertram in society; his aunt, Madame von Sturmhaupt, never omitted to invite Eva to every entertainment, large or small, which she gave. The old lady appeared exceedingly fond of the young heiress, whom she heaped with attentions; for Eva's sake she often endured hours of ennui with Aunt Minni, upon whom she called at least once a week. But for the most part she arranged these visits so as to find Eva at home, and then Aunt Minni's taciturnity served her turn well, for she could dwell without interruption upon the fine qualities of both mind and person of her nephew, Guido von Bertram, whom she described with enthusiasm as the cleverest, noblest, best, bravest, gentlest, and handsomest officer in the entire German army.

Only one thing was to be regretted, and that was his insensibility to female charms; he might have made the most advantageous alliances, so many charming girls had been absolutely thrown in his way by their parents, but really her dear Guido, who was possessed of every requisite to make a wife perfectly happy, must have a heart of stone in his breast, if indeed--and here Madame von Sturmhaupt would heave a melancholy sigh--an unfortunate passion had not steeled that heart against all the rest of the fair sex.

When the good lady reached this climax, which was sure to crown all her descriptions of Guido, she would cast a meaning look at Eva. An unfortunate passion! Poor Guido, he was so sensitive, so unselfish! The mere thought that perhaps a wealthy girl might suspect him of being mercenary would drive him wild; his aunt was sure that the fear of laying himself open to such a suspicion would deter him from ever confessing his love to a girl who had money.

That was why he was so often sad and pensive. Yes, there was no doubt of it, he was sick at heart with an unhappy love.

Such talk was infinitely annoying to Eva, but do what she would she could not avoid it, for with incomparable dexterity Madame von Sturmhaupt would lead the conversation back into her favourite channel whenever Eva contrived to divert it thence for a while, and at all the dinners which she gave the doting aunt arranged that her Guido should sit beside the heiress.

On such occasions Herr von Bertram played to perfection the part which his aunt had assigned him. Sometimes he conversed fluently with Eva, endeavouring to let his light shine and to be witty and amusing, and then again he would sit silent, gazing moodily on the ground or casting long melancholy looks at the heiress.

Guido was an excellent actor, and his aunt seconded him ably, but Eva's keen insight, sharpened as it was by the distrust of others, which was becoming her second nature, enabled her to see through their schemes. She was not deceived either by the enthusiastic praises lavished by the aunt or by the assumed melancholy of the nephew. All this love and devotion were for her millions, not for herself; of this she was well assured, and the better Bertram played his part the more odious he was to her. She despised him as a hypocrite, and she detested him because she could not avoid his attentions, since there was a reason, which she thought an important one, why she did not like to refuse any of his aunt's invitations.

At every entertainment given by Madame von Sturmhaupt Lieutenant von Herwarth was sure to be present, and the young officer was devoted to Aline. Eva knew that her friend did not regard him with indifference, although she had never questioned her about him, and for Aline's sake she endured Bertram's odious attentions, for Aline's sake she accepted all his aunt's invitations, while all the more did she detest Bertram himself. And he--he of all others--had stepped forward to defend her against Leo von Heydeck!

There was a pang at her heart as she thought that Heydeck, as Uncle Balthasar had said, had allowed himself to make offensive remarks with regard to her. Was this conceivable? Yes, it was possible; his arrogance was great; had he not conducted himself at the fête at Schönsee with such hauteur and reserve as to provoke Eva to treat him with even more than her usual coldness of manner?

She had been really glad when her uncle Balthasar presented to her the young officer of whom she had heard so much that interested her. Aline, who learned it all from Lieutenant von Herwarth, had told her that he had distinguished himself as much for bravery and scorn of death in the field as for humanity and kindness shown to the French peasantry. To Herwarth, as he told Aline with enthusiasm, Leo von Heydeck was the very ideal of a nobleman and officer. Herwarth could not say enough of him, and Aline repeated faithfully to Eva all that he told her.

Thus an interest in Leo was awakened in Eva's mind before she saw him, and when they did meet, his manly bearing, his noble, expressive face, answered to the impression of him already existing in her imagination.

But Eva was a spoiled child of fortune. Accustomed to servile homage from her numerous adorers, Leo's dignified quiet demeanour when they first met, had seemed to her offensive, and she had resented it by an increase of cold reserve on her part. And Leo hated her for it! Eva knew it. She had watched him that day, and had detected him regarding her with mistrust and dislike. And to-day!--he had recognized her; their glances had met for one instant as he looked up from his newspaper, but he had immediately and intentionally averted his eyes; he was the only one there who had not accorded her even the simplest salutation.

Yes, Leo von Heydeck hated her, Eva knew it, and meant to give hatred for hatred; she could have no effect upon him to prevent the duel, for she never could so humble her pride as to address even the merest word of friendly appeal to him. But she could prevail with Herr von Bertram. True, it was very irksome to her to ask a favour of him for which she should owe him gratitude, but a higher sense of duty forbade her to yield any weight to this thought. This duel must not take place!

Eva remembered her uncle's words, that Heydeck was an unerring pistol-shot; she had formerly heard the same thing from Aline. Heydeck's brilliant skill with this weapon had contributed to win him Herwarth's enthusiastic admiration.

A duel with deadly consequences! The idea was so horrible that it banished every other consideration. A nameless, feverish horror possessed the young girl; in imagination she saw the fatal combat: she saw the foes stand opposite each other; the signal was given, the shots were fired, and one sank on the ground with a bullet through his heart, but this one was not Bertram, but Leo von Heydeck, whose pale face, convulsed with the death-agony, seemed to hover before Eva's eyes.

The horrible waking dream was so vivid that Eva screamed aloud, and only recovered herself when she felt Aline's gentle arm around her and heard the kind voice in her ear begging her to be calm and composed once more.

"You must control yourself, Eva," Aline said, gravely; "you cannot receive Herr von Bertram while you are in this agitated state. It was wrong to interfere as you have done, without due reflection, in an affair between these two men. But now that you have gone so far you must show no weakness when the lieutenant comes. You must not receive him until you are entirely mistress of yourself. It would be better to let me speak with him; tell me what you desire he should do; you really are not in a condition to see him."

"No, Aline, I must see him; he will not refuse my request; I will implore him to give up this wretched duel; I will not rest until he has given me his promise, even although I should beg for it on my knees."

"He cannot grant it; his honour as an officer is at stake. Take my advice, Eva, let me speak with Herr von Bertram; if it is possible to prevent this duel I promise you it shall be done, but pray do not you appear in the matter. It is bad enough to have your name mixed up with a scandal, which is town-talk by this time. Do not furnish any further food for gossip."

"What is town-talk to me? Let gossip say what it will of me, I do not care. Do not try to shake my resolution: it is perfectly firm; I shall see Guido von Bertram, and force him to put a stop to this unhappy duel, but I promise you to be calm, and to control myself. You shall be present at the interview; I will look at you if my anger threatens to master me; but, dearest Aline, do not talk to me, leave me to myself; do not confuse me with entreaties now, when I must be calm and clear in my own mind if I would obtain what I desire."

"As you please," Aline replied, disappointed; "I will not thrust my counsel upon you." She took up the embroidery which she had laid aside, and worked away industriously, but from time to time her eyes anxiously followed Eva, who was restlessly pacing the veranda to and fro.

An hour elapsed. Eva's state of expectancy had become almost unendurable, when at last Uncle Balthasar's loud voice was heard at the other end of the drawing-room.

"Come in, come in, Herr von Bertram, Eva is awaiting you on the veranda."

Eva pressed her hand to her throbbing heart.

"Be composed, Eva," Aline whispered.