"I understand you," a voice which thrilled all the chords in her nature suddenly murmured in her ear. "I thank you, Prison Fairy!" She turned towards _Heinrich_ and looked up into his face. She was bewilderingly beautiful at that moment, with the bold, noble profile half turned towards him, the slender neck thrown back, the full lips curved in a smile which made the small, white teeth glitter in the light, and the hair combed up to form a natural diadem above the thoughtful brow. The floating folds of her dress, the drooping crimson flowers, which trembled at every motion, gave her an ideal, fairylike aspect, which was increased by her dark eyes. Those eyes belonged to the class which, the ancient myth tells us, had power to turn to stone any one on whom their gaze rested. The large, sparkling pupils allowed very little of the white of the eye to be seen. They often gleamed like two suns when the long lashes were raised; and softly and sweetly as they rested upon the object of their observation, their expression must be terrible in anger. Ottmar gazed at her with increasing rapture. "Yes, yes," he said, under his breath, "that is the Medusa from whose blood Pegasus sprang." "How little she knows herself, that she thinks I could see her without coveting her!" thought _Henri_, making a fresh effort to dislodge _Heinrich_; _Heinrich_ resisted his attack with unaccustomed strength. He gazed into the depths of those mysterious eyes; and the secrets which, unconsciously to herself, slumbered within them, irresistibly allured him. "Cornelia," said the young girl who had read the first essay,--and a tear trembled on her lashes,--"they are looking for you." Cornelia looked up as if aroused from a dream, threw her arm around her friend's neck, and embraced her warmly. "I thank you, Hedwig!" Then she entered the noisy circle and summoned the gentlemen to select the essay most worthy of the prize. The company voted, and the majority decided in favor of the first one read. "Oh, I am glad, dear Hedwig!" said Cornelia, hastily, taking the garland of fresh flowers she had woven for the victor and placing it upon her brow. It was a beautiful sight as the loveliest maiden in the throng adorned the diffident young girl and led her triumphantly into the middle of the room. The gentlemen came forward, bringing the prize upon a cushion. Poor Hedwig, who, in her embarrassment, had by no means the air of a conqueror, received the gift from the hands of the young artist A----, who whispered, gently, "I beg you all not to show it to the original, if it can be avoided. I did not know he would be here." The young girl did not understand him, and hastily raised the cover, but dropped it again in terror when she saw the sketch, while a burning blush overspread her face. "Why, what is the matter?" asked Cornelia, taking out the picture. "A study of a head! Herr von Ottmar,--a perfect likeness!" she exclaimed, undisturbed by the young artist's embarrassment.