Sabine tapped the table with her thimble. "Fink has spoken highly of him, and that was good and kind. And, in spite of the grave face of my dear brother, he shall, as a reward, have his favorite dish to-morrow." "Ham, with Burgundy sauce," added the cousin. Meanwhile Fink and Anton were entering Frau von Baldereck's lighted rooms, and Fink, whispering, "Come, summon all your courage; you have nothing to fear," led his unresisting friend up to the lady of the house, by whom they were most graciously received, and who, saying at once to Anton, "I will introduce you to Countess Pontak," led him off to a gaunt lady of uncertain age, who sat on a slightly-elevated seat, surrounded by a small court of her own. "Dear Betty, this is Mr. Wohlfart." Anton saw at once that "dear Betty" had a nose of parchment, thin lips, and a most unpleasing countenance. He bowed before her with the resigned air of a prisoner, while she began to cross-examine him as to who he was and whence he came, till his shyness was fast changing into annoyance, when Fink stepped in. "My friend, proud lady, is half Slavonic, though he passionately protests against any doubts cast upon his German origin. I recommend him to your kindness. You have just given a proof of your talent for investigation, now give my friend the benefit of the gentle indulgence for which we all admire you." The ladies smiled, the gentlemen turned away to hide their laughter, and Betty sat there with ruffled feathers, like some small bird of prey whom a larger has robbed of its victim. As for Anton, he was hurrying away into a corner to recover, when he felt a light tap on his arm, and heard a fresh young voice say, "Mr. Wohlfart, do you not remember your old friend? This is the second time that I have been obliged to speak first." Anton turned, and saw a tall, slight figure, with fair hair, and large dark blue eyes, smiling at him. The expression of delight on his face was so unmistakable that Lenore could not help telling him how glad she too was to see him again. Soon they were in full conversation; they had met but three times in their lives, and yet had so much to say. At last the young lady reminded him that he must now speak to others, told him to join her when the music began, and, with the majesty of a queen, crossed the room to her mother. Anton was now hardened against all social terrors, and his embarrassment over and gone. He joined Fink, who introduced him to a dozen gentlemen, not one of whose names he remembered, caring for them no more than for poplars along a high road. But this audacious mood vanished when he approached the baroness. There were the delicate features, the unspeakable refinement, which had so impressed him when he saw her first. She at once discovered that he was unaccustomed to society, and looked at him with a curiosity not unmingled with some misgiving; but Lenore cut the interview as short as she could by saying that it was time to take their places in the dance.