"Very well," said Sabine; "say nothing about it, Franz, to any one." And Sabine sat down again at the table, but the damask was forgotten. "So that was what made poor Wohlfart look so sad! This wild youth--he came to us like a whirlwind, and the blossoms all fall in his path. His whole life is confusion and excitement, and he carries away with him all who approach within his reach. Even me--even me! Do what I will, I too feel his spell--so beautiful, so brilliant, so strange. He is always grieving me, and yet all day long I am thinking and caring about him. Oh, my mother! it was in this room that I sat at your feet for the last time when, with your hand on my head, you prayed that Heaven might shield me from every sorrow. Beloved mother, shield thy daughter against her own beating heart. Strengthen me against him, his ensnaring levity, his daring mockery." Long did Sabine sit thus, communing with her guardian spirits. Then wiping her eyes, she resolutely returned to count and arrange the table-linen. Anton had got into bed, and was just going to put out his candle, when a loud knock was heard at the door, and the man he least expected stood before him--Herr von Fink himself, with his riding-whip, and his usual careless manner. "Ah! in bed already!" said he, sitting astride on a chair close by. "I am sorry to disturb you. You have written me a very spirited letter, and Jordan has told me the rest, so I am come to answer you in person." Anton was silent, and looked darkly at him. "You are all good and very sensitive people," continued Fink, whipping his boots; "I am sorry that you took my words so to heart, but I am glad you have so much spirit." "Before I listen further," said Anton, angrily, "I must know whether it is your intention to make an apology to me before the other gentlemen. Perhaps a more experienced man would not consider this sufficient, but it would satisfy me." "There you are right," nodded Fink; "you _may_ be quite satisfied." "Will you make this apology to-morrow morning?" inquired Anton. "Why should I not? I don't want to fight with you, and I will declare before the assembled firm that you are a hopeful young man, and that I was wrong to insult one younger and--forgive me the expression--much greener than myself." Our hero listened with mingled feelings, and then declared that he was not satisfied with this explanation. "Why not?" asked Fink. "Your manner at this moment is unpleasant to me; you show me less respect than is conventional. I know that I am young, have seen little of the world, and that in many points you are my superior; but, for these very reasons, it would better become you to behave differently." Fink stretched out his hand good-humoredly, and said in reply, "Do not be angry with me, and give me your hand."