Johanna was silent. This was not a favourable moment for any mention of her wishes with respect to Lisbeth; but the longer she thought of to-day's meeting, the more necessary did it appear to her that the child should be removed from the evil influences of those about her, not only for a while, but permanently. How this was to be done she could not tell,--it could be possible only at Tannhagen. Two days later Magelone returned to Dönninghausen. She was fresh and gay, had made some 'most delightful' acquaintances, had danced a great deal, and generally enjoyed herself 'hugely.' Otto teased her about her repeated use of this adverb, ascribing her love for it to the 'huge dimensions' of a certain captain, who had, according to Magelone, been one of her most ardent admirers. Merry as his teasing sounded, Magelone thought she detected in it a certain jealous annoyance, which pleased her, and she did her best to induce Otto to continue it, by continual descriptions of her social delights,--a topic in which Otto, who was familiar with the society in which his sisters lived, was as much interested as herself. Moreover, he had a taste for aristocratic gossip in general, and for Magelone's graceful treatment of it in particular. How rude Johanna's conversation and air seemed by comparison! and what good did it do for him to try not to compare? The contrast forced itself upon him all the more since Johanna, at present anxious about her sister, and troubled, perhaps, by the sense of a slight estrangement between Otto and herself, was graver than her wont, while Magelone fairly sparkled with merriment. And she seemed to him more beautiful than ever. The gleaming eyes, the fresh pouting lips, the lithe grace of her figure, attracted him more than ever. The consciousness that he must not yield to the attraction increased its force, and Magelone saw this, and it pleased her to torment him. One evening, while she was playing a little thing of Chopin's, he, leaning against the grand piano, became absorbed in contemplation of her. Suddenly she looked up. Their eyes met. "Do not look at me so," she whispered, continuing to play, while her cheek flushed crimson, as her look held fast his own, and an evil smile of triumph hovered upon her half-open lips. On another occasion he said, suddenly dropping his jesting for a passionate tone, "What a grief it is, Magelone, that we cannot belong to each other!" She looked up at him angrily; then suddenly her eyes were veiled in sadness, and, with a sigh, she turned and left him. On both these occasions Johanna was seated only a few steps from the pair, reading the papers aloud to her grandfather. Otto came nigh to reproaching her in his heart for her calm confidence in him.