The Praesidentin's face showed how little this answer pleased her. "You always had a weakness for this Reinert," said she, shaking her head deprecatingly. "He was once very dear to me!" "Was?" "Yes. But several things have happened to cause a coldness between us. I had the greatest hopes for his talents and future, but nothing has come of them." The Praesidentin drew herself up in her arm chair and fixed her eyes upon Hermann. "I confess to you openly, Hermann, that formerly I was much concerned about this friendship. You were true to the aristocratic traditions of your family in all else; but you always and everywhere made an exception in favour of this Reinert. Toni would not have dared under my eyes to misuse her liberty in this manner. Unfortunately I was absent, but you were near. You ought to have acted in my place, and guarded the honour of the family. Instead of that you favoured the match openly, brought them together in Rome, and even took their part against me. I really had serious fears for your principles at that time." The Count smiled, his old sarcastic smile, without a trace of cheerfulness. "Your fears were groundless; you ought to have known me better, grandmother. I am constituted differently, and what I thought suitable in Eugen and Toni's case, I should not have pardoned in myself,--I should not make a _mesalliance_, you can be sure of that." "I know it," said the Praesidentin, with calm assurance. "Fortunately you have not a trace of absurd romance about you." "No!--and besides that--you know I have much reason for keeping my name clear!" His voice sank at the last words, and his brow clouded heavily, whilst his eyes sought the ground. The Praesidentin, too, became graver, but at the same time there was something like impatience in her manner. "The old conflict still? Haven't you been able to put away from you that remembrance yet?" "I envy you for being able to do so. I forget it certainly for a few hours sometimes, but for days and weeks--never!" The Praesidentin shook her head. "You torment yourself with self-created fears! We alone know the secret, and can guard it securely enough. The world can and will never know more than a breath of it." The Count raised his head slowly, his brow dark as night. "The world! But _I_ know that I am dishonoured! I know the disgrace, the curse which rests upon my name, and upon my riches, and that is the dark spot of my life which I can never, never, blot out. Whatever I may accomplish, whatever I may attain to, this dark memory continually forces itself between. I cannot forget it!" The grandmother laid her hand authoritatively upon his arm--