In the garden house of the old family mansion, by the open glass doors, which led on to the broad stone terrace, Count Hermann sat with his grandmother. The appearance of the old lady, now more than seventy, still showed the intellectual and physical strength which had always made her the centre point of the family, over which she practised her old authority. The powerful form appeared to bow unwillingly to age; her hair was snow-white, her face full of lines and wrinkles, but it was a face which age could not change much. It had not been able to dim the sharp, clear eye, nor soften the authoritative expression of energy, and if she was somewhat bowed by the weight of years, her head was still carried as erect as ever. Count Arnau, too, was little altered by the lapse of time; it seemed to leave no trace on these decided, cold features. His glance was, perhaps, still keener, the peculiar lines round his mouth still firmer, and his bearing, in spite of its simplicity, showed more self-assurance; but more conspicuous than ever was now the likeness to the grandmother, whose face, seemed to repeat his, feature by feature, as his character resembled hers. A long conversation had ensued about the affairs of the capital, and Hermann's post there, together with his views for the future, and thus the talk had gradually ended in a political discussion; now the Count, commencing a new topic, asked-- "So Antonie and Eugen are to arrive to-morrow?" "Yes--according to your openly expressed wish. I am sacrificing my feelings a great deal, Hermann! You know I shall never pardon Antonie this _mesalliance_, and if I have prevailed upon myself to invite her, and Herr Reinert, it is _only_ on your account." "Thank you, dear grandmother; I know what it costs you; but the recognition of the marriage on your side had become with time necessary. And by the way, as the outer form of nobility is no longer wanting, you need fear no hindrance in introducing Herr and Frau von Reinert as relations, in society." The Praesidentin shrugged her shoulders. "Making him a 'Von' was a necessity, since Antonie had once taken that mad step. She is, and will always be, Graefin Arnau, in spite of all, and as such cannot be simply _buergerlich_ Frau Reinert, if she comes back here. But a consideration, which was due to the world to cover the scandal to the family, has no influence upon my judgment. To me Herr Reinert remains, as he always was, _buergerlich_." Hermann gazed moodily into the distance, and his brow clouded somewhat. "I hoped Eugen would gain an artist's name for himself, which would make this 'nobility' superfluous; unfortunately it has come to nothing." "What?" The Praesidentin's voice involuntarily became sharper. "Do you mean to say that the fame of an artist can make up for the inherited coronet of a count?" "Make up for it--no! but it can atone for the want of it in a certain sense, especially with such a romantic nature as Toni's."