She was sitting at the window of the handsomely-furnished room which she used as a parlor. She had just completed her elegant and tasteful toilet; and when the mirror reflected the image of a young woman of twenty, with light hair, slightly powdered, a high, thoughtful forehead, and remarkably large and luminous black eyes, and the tall, graceful figure, attired in a rich and heavy woollen dress of light blue, Charlotte von Kalb turned from the beautiful vision with a sigh. "I am well worthy of being loved, and yet no one loves me! No one! Neither the husband, forced upon me by my family, nor my sister, who only thinks of the unhappiness of her own married life, nor any other relative. I am alone. The husband who should be at my side, is far away at the court of the beautiful Queen of France. The sister lives with her unloved husband on her estates. I am alone, entirely alone! Ah, this solitude of the heart is cheerless, for my heart is filled with enthusiasm, and longing for love!" She shuddered as she uttered these words, and turned her eyes with a startled, anxious look to the little picture which, together with several others, hung on the window-frame. She slowly walked forward and gazed at it long and thoughtfully. It was only a plain black silhouette of a head taken in profile. But how expressive was this profile, how magnificent the high, thoughtful forehead, how proud the sharply-defined nose, how eloquent the swelling lips, and how powerful the massive chin! It would have been evident to any observer, that this picture represented the head of a man of great intellect, although he had not seen, written underneath, the name Frederick Schiller! "Frederick Schiller,"--whispered Charlotte, with a sigh,--"Frederick Schiller!" Her lips said nothing more, but an anxious voice kept on whispering and lamenting in her heart; and she listened to this whispering, and gazed vacantly out into the street! The door-bell rang and roused Charlotte von Kalb from her dreams. Some one has entered the house! She hopes he is not coming to see her! She does not wish to see any one, for no one will come whom she cares to see! Some one knocks loudly at the door; a crimson glow suffuses itself over Charlotte's cheeks, for she knows this knock, and it echoes so loudly in her heart, that she is incapable of answering it. The knocking is heard for the second time, and a sudden unaccountable terror takes possession of Charlotte's heart; she flies through the room and into her boudoir, closing the door softly behind her. But she remains standing near it, and hears the door open, and the footsteps of a man entering; and then she hears his voice as he calls to the servant: "Madame von Kalb is not here! Go and say that I beg to be permitted to see her." Oh, she recognizes this voice!--the voice of Frederick Schiller; and it pierces her soul like lightning, and makes her heart quake.