What Johann Leopold's sensations were upon this occasion it would be difficult to say. By no hint did he betray his knowledge of the significance of the festival. His conduct towards Magelone was as cool and deliberate as ever. As long as the Freiherr remained amid the family circle, Johann Leopold was there also. So soon as the old gentleman withdrew, he also vanished. Johanna, in whom the impression of his talk in the forest was still vivid, watched him narrowly, but she looked in vain for any echo of that hour, and began to believe that not only Johann Leopold but also she herself had seen phantoms. Thus the day before the first of the new year arrived. The clear Christmas weather had given place to thick gray clouds that, lashed by the winds, sailed above the mountains. The Freiherr, too, whose mood had been more cheerful since the gout had left him, looked as gloomy within-doors as did the skies without. "I do not know what to think of Waldemar," he said, as he paced the room to and fro, smoking his morning pipe. "It is a little too much to have no word from him since the telegram on Christmas-eve." "Since that announced his arrival here to-day, he probably thought nothing further necessary," said Aunt Thekla. "Indeed! And do you agree with him?" the Freiherr said, turning upon her. "Then see what this new-fangled want of consideration comes to. What is to be done about sending for him? I cannot have the carriage go to every train." "Waldemar always comes by the express-train, which is due at five o'clock in Thalrode," said Hildegard, who sat opposite Aunt Thekla engaged on some embroidery. "Nonsense! He comes sometimes at noon, and sometimes at eight in the evening," the Freiherr rejoined. "But that's of no consequence. Let him come when he chooses, he must send word when he will be here, and if he does not he will not be sent for. _Basta!_" His tone was such as to admit of no reply. All were silent, while the old Herr continued to pace to and fro, puffing out thick clouds of smoke. Magelone alone ventured, when he was at the other end of the room, to whisper to Aunt Thekla, "A great fuss about nothing! You will see we shall have a letter or a telegram from Waldemar saying he cannot come. I wouldn't come either, if I could amuse myself in Vienna as he can." But the hours passed, and neither letter nor telegram made its appearance. The early twilight came on, made still more dim by the snow-storm which had begun at noon, and which was increasing in violence. The wind howled and shrieked around the castle.