"I know so much about them," replied the general, "that I should not venture now to bring my little countess a doll, she must have one in a green uniform with a red plume." "I want neither dolls nor anything else from you," replied the young countess, pretending to pout. General von Reischach and Countess Clam Gallas took leave. Countess Frankenstein and her daughter accompanied them to the door, and had only been a few moments alone when a servant entered and said: "There is a gentleman here, who asks very pressingly for an interview with the countess." "Who is it?" she asked, with surprise, for she had few visitors except those belonging to her own exclusive circle of society. "Here is his card," said the servant, handing a visiting card to the countess. "He assures me it is greatly to your ladyship's interest to hear what he has to say." Countess Frankenstein took the card, and read, with a look of astonishment--"E. Balzer, Exchange Agent." A deep flush passed over Countess Clara's face, she looked anxiously at her mother and pressed her handkerchief to her lips. "I cannot understand," said the countess, "what a person so entirely unknown to me can want; however, let him come in!" In a few moments Herr Balzer entered the salon. He was dressed in black, and his common-looking face bore an expression of grave dignity which did not appear to belong to it. He approached the ladies with a manner in which the boldness of the habitué of a coffee-house was mingled with the embarrassment of a man who, accustomed only to low society, suddenly finds himself amongst persons of distinction. Countess Frankenstein looked at him with a cold, proud gaze, whilst Clara, after her large eyes had taken in his vulgar appearance with a hasty glance, cast them down and waited in trembling expectation for the reason of this unexpected visit. "I have consented to receive you, sir," said the countess, with easy calmness, "and I beg you to tell me the important matter you have to impart." Herr Balzer bowed with affected dignity and said: "A most melancholy affair, gracious countess, brings me to you,--an affair in which we, you and I, or rather your daughter and I, have a common interest." Clara fixed her eyes upon him with great surprise and painful suspense; the haughty look of the countess asked plainer than words, "What interest can I have in common with this man?" Herr Balzer saw this look, and an almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips. "A very painful and distressing circumstance," he said slowly and hesitatingly, "obliges me, your ladyship, to confide my honour to you, and to consult with you, as to what is best to be done." "I pray you, sir," said the countess, in an icy voice, "to come to the fact you have to communicate. My time is much engaged." Without paying any attention to this intimation, Herr Balzer proceeded, apparently with some embarrassment, whilst twirling his hat in his hands: