"All right," responded the magistrate. "I am not a monster; but we will talk of it after a while. Now go into the smoking-room." The poet obeyed. Wanda vanished at her father's nod; and Lady Anna, who did not dare to cross his plans for a second time that day, also withdrew, though unwillingly. "Now, my dear count," said the magistrate, with a glance at Judith, "I must beg you to excuse me, too." "But, Herr von Wroblewski--" Agenor began. "What is it you wish?" "I must say I do not approve of the way in which--" He paused, although his host stood before him, with drooping eyes, like a penitent sinner. "Don't scold me," Wroblewski said. "Do not spoil my pleasure in seeing you here, although so unexpectedly." He bowed, and left the room. The count bit his lips, and looked hesitatingly, first after him and then at Judith. She stared at the book which lay before her. The lamp-light shone on her auburn hair and delicate rosy face. He drew a deep breath, and stepped up to her. She glanced up at his approach, and when she saw they were alone she seemed ready to run. "What is interesting you so?" he asked, as unconcernedly as he could, looking at the engraving open before her. "Heidelberg? A splendid town! My regiment was in Mayence for some time, and I often ran over to Heidelberg." "My brother is going there to stay," said Judith. The count inquired why Raphael had not attended an Austrian high-school, to which she replied that it was Bergheimer's advice, who had so strongly recommended the law schools of Heidelberg; that her father had the greatest confidence in Bergheimer, and had intrusted to him the education of both her brother and herself. The count then asked in what subjects she had been taught, and the methods of instruction, so that, if the magistrate had been eavesdropping, the conversation would not have interested him much. But after a time it took a more important turn. She told him Bergheimer was a zealous botanist, and had made a good herbarium of plants, special to Eastern Galicia. "Then I suppose the gardens of the castle interested him?" said Agenor. "Certainly. Though he was never there." "Why not?" "He was not allowed. Admission is forbidden to Jews, as you will see on the board at the entrance. But do not think this embittered him. He always said: 'It is not the fault of the count; such a board stands on the park-gates of every castle in Podolia. If they should be removed, it would create great gossip.' Bergheimer is such a noble, gentle creature. He never dreamed of an exception being made in his favor, although he is so fond of flowers. 'Perhaps the gardener would allow it,' he used to say, 'but I do not wish for any advantages above my brethren.' And he was right." "Then you, too, have never been in the garden?"