'I am not accustomed to buy flowers of pedlars, but I suppose this person must be very much in want of money, since he offers them to me in this way; so I will take them out of charity. Give him this, please, and send him away.' There was dead silence for a moment; but as the unfortunate kellner turned to perform his new orders, one or two persons snickered, and others joined in, and almost immediately there was a universal explosion of derisive mirth at the gallant lieutenant's expense. 'Sacrament!' stuttered he, jumping to his feet, his clumsy features of a dull crimson hue, while he strove by an enraged stare to awe the laughers into silence. But it was in vain; others, hearing the uproar, hurried to the spot, and soon added their quota to the chorus of contemptuous merriment; and at last even the kellner pricked up the courage of numbers, and as he laid down the gold coin upon the lieutenant's table, he suffered a broad grin to make itself visible on his countenance likewise. At this juncture the white-bearded old gentleman came shouldering through the crowd, in a tempest of apprehension and wrath; on finding his daughter safe, he stood with one arm in hers, glaring round on every side in search of a foe. But the only individual who might have answered to that term had by this time taken his departure, pursued by the taunts and jeers of the whole assembly. And then the young lady, who, while unprotected, had borne herself so firmly, suddenly bent her lovely face against her father's shoulder and burst into tears. As he led her away, a low murmur of sympathy and admiration followed her; for although a Dresden crowd is in general anything but a gallant one, their hearts were thoroughly taken captive for once. For my part, my mind was a medley of emotions; I remained seated at my table with my head in my hands, unable to think coherently. Whether Mozart's Sinfonie was played to the end or not I am unable to say; at all events, I heard nothing of it. But towards evening I found myself at home; and then began the futile struggle against love and fate which I have already described. I have also stated how, on the third day, resigning myself with the best grace I could to the inevitable, I prepared to make my customary afternoon stroll. I had accordingly put on my well-worn Tyrolese hat, and, grasping my walking-stick, was just about to issue forth--when a loud ringing at the hall entrance, soon followed by a firm step along the passage and a resounding knock at my own door, made me pause. 'Can it be the old gentleman?' flashed across my mind, and the thought fetched the heart into my mouth. 'Idiot!' I exclaimed the next instant, 'of course it can only be a messenger from that scoundrel Von Wurst, with an invitation to a duel. And by Heaven!' I added, flinging the door open savagely, 'there's no man in the world I shall have so much pleasure in shooting!' II.