What had become of Kurt's good resolutions? They had shared the fate that awaits such resolutions generally. How could he resist when Celia smiled so bewitchingly upon him? The temptation was too great. Besides, he had only resolved never by a single word to betray Celia's childlike trust in him, to treat her as a brother would treat a tenderly-loved sister, and is it not perfectly allowable for a brother to kiss a dear sister? He was not wrong in kissing her. Had he been wrong several weeks before, when Celia, after some slight dispute, offered him her rosy lips in token of reconciliation, not to refuse the precious gift? Celia, in her innocent purity, never could have comprehended such a refusal, and would have been deeply grieved by it. Since then it had become a custom for the young girl to receive him daily with a kiss, and to take leave of him with a kiss, and they called each other by their first names. It would have been ridiculous in Kurt, after becoming so intimate with Celia, to adhere to the formal "Fraeulein von Hohenwald" in addressing her. It had vanished; neither Kurt or Celia could tell when or how; it had done so so naturally. Still, after that kiss of reconciliation Kurt had not felt perfectly comfortable as he walked home to Gruenhagen; he was dissatisfied with himself. Cool reflection told him that he had been false to his resolve,--he, a man to whom life and its perils were familiar, should have conquered himself; he should have been a guide to Celia, who was half a child, and who had no idea that there could be any danger in her guileless familiarity. But his heart bore away the victory from his understanding. Kurt quieted his conscience when it would have reproached him. Was it his fault that he did not go directly to Celia's father and declare his love for her, and that she loved him in return? Ah, how gladly would he, if he could, have done this! But the miserable family feud, the invincible prejudice of the old Freiherr, forbade all approach. Should Kurt, then, sacrifice the happiness of his life, his love for Celia, to such a phantom? Should he reject the dear girl's confidence because the old Baron in his obstinacy had an unaccountable hatred for the name of Poseneck? No; he could not and he would not. He never had asked Celia whether she loved him and would be his; but there was no need of such words between them. He knew that her heart belonged to him, and his determination to win her hand was absolute, although he vainly sought in his imagination for some means to attain this end.