"Impossible; I cannot postpone my departure," he made answer. "And even if I could, where could I find a place among your friends? I am--you remember how often my father said so--a faithful, cross, ugly dog. In a _tête-à-tête_ the old playfellow is all very well, but he does not belong in the drawing-room." Johanna took his hand. "I will not let you go," she said, "until you promise to come to-morrow evening. We have a little play,--I make my first histrionic essay. You must be present." "No, my dear Johanna, I cannot see you act," he said, in a calm voice, but with lips that quivered in spite of himself. "And independently of that, I really must go. I must get to my work. I have just come from a six-weeks' tour through Switzerland and the Tyrol, and my holiday is over." "But you have told me absolutely nothing of your work, of your plans. I do not know where to picture you in my thoughts!" she exclaimed. "I will write to you," he said. "Good-by, and try to think kindly of me." He shook hands with her and left her. "A faithful, cross, ugly dog," Johanna repeated to herself, as the door closed behind him and his step died away in the antechamber. Suddenly a rush of emotion overcame her; she sank into a chair and burst into tears. CHAPTER II. DISAPPOINTED ASPIRATIONS. The festival was over. The last guests had taken their departure, and as they issued shivering into the cold air of the autumn night, criticism, and that not of a very genial kind, replaced the flattering expressions they had just used in characterizing to their hostess 'the delightful evening' they had passed. "Wanton extravagance!" "It is worse than folly, and so out of taste for an actor to attempt to vie with a banker." "Everything borrowed, girls,--rely upon Frau Helena for that." "Yes, and she does understand how to dress herself. How beautiful she looked in that pale blue silk with the rich lace overskirt!" "And her pearl necklace and ear-rings,--where did she get those, do you think?" "'_Honi soit qui mal y pense_,' madame; a love-token from her husband, when he was another woman's husband." "Roderich always gives us excellent cigars, and the Johannisberg was delicious!" "Well, we needed it to carry down the play." "For heaven's sake, hush! Hofrath Leuchtenberg arranged the thing." "Oh, the thing itself was well enough, but the performance! Such nonsense to entertain us with an amateur performance!" "And that tall, pale, awkward girl was Roderich's daughter? 'Tis inconceivable that she should have no talent." "Roderich looked as if he were upon the rack when she stood so like a stick and 'spoke her piece.'" "But Frau Helena was all the more pleased; she could hardly conceal her exultation. Her step-daughter is a thorn in the flesh to her." Such was the talk among young and old, men and women, as they walked along the silent streets, through which the north wind howled as in indignant scorn.