"And this reminds me of my step-mother, who has not yet found an abiding-place. A little while ago I had a letter from her, the first since I left her. She has been unable to procure an engagement--a failure which she ascribes to the machinations of her rivals, who would, if they could, prevent her from any advantageous employment of her talents; and she assures me that were it not for the assistance of a friend, whose name she does not mention, she must long since have succumbed to their persecutions. She writes that my little sister grows prettier and more like herself every day; that the child has also inherited her talent, and has lately appeared with great success in a juvenile ballet. Strange to say,--although I myself always desired nothing more eagerly than a career upon the stage, and although the majority of great actresses have made their _débût_ very early,--I cannot endure the thought of my little Lisbeth making her appearance now before the public, and I vainly try to answer the question as to what would have been my father's wish in the matter. But why write this to you, who despise and condemn the actor's profession? It comes from my old habit of talking to you of everything that is occupying my mind. Kind and really paternal as my grandfather is, I could not speak of this to him. I did not even venture to tell him that I had received the letter, and Aunt Thekla, with all her sympathy for me, would be helpless here. "As usual, my letter has grown to a volume. When will it reach you? When will you read it? Answer me soon, and tell me of your grand, great world, as I do you of my circumscribed existence. Wherever you go I follow you in heart and thoughts." Early in June there came surprising news from Waldemar. He had obtained a position in the suite of the ambassador to St. Petersburg, wished to take his bride thither, and had persuaded her parents to consent to a hasty marriage. Now he wrote to invite his family to be present at it on the 15th of the month. An old-fashioned celebration, after his grandfather's taste, was out of the question, since the Walburgs were in deep mourning for the death of an uncle. The Freiherr, as the head of the family, felt that his presence, even at this quiet marriage, could not be dispensed with. Aunt Thekla, on the contrary, shrank from taking so long a journey. "It is seventeen years since I have been more than a few miles away from the Dönninghausen domain," she said. "The thought of meeting all those strangers frightens me. I think I could scarcely make a respectable curtsey to them. Please, dear Johann, let me stay at home." And the Freiherr, after he had laughed at her and tried to persuade her, acceded to her wishes.