Hildegarde suffered terribly from the speeches and all the family circumstances, but she suffered even more on account of the visits to her relatives. It is true it was a pleasure to be in a rich household once again, to hear nothing of money worries; but letters from her parents followed her to Berlin with the request that she should borrow money for them from their relatives. Then again the gaieties were quite spoiled for her, because every evening before going to bed her aunt used to say, "Has nothing of importance happened to-day?" And even if her aunt did not actually say this, and tried not to let her see what she felt, Hildegarde noticed that it was no longer a pleasure to her aunt to take her about, for she saw the uselessness of all her efforts, and would have preferred her niece not to have visited her again. This year Hildegarde had determined not to go to Berlin; her pride and her vanity revolted against being a burden to her relatives again, and playing a despicable, yet pitiable, _rôle_. She had often noticed both the contemptuous and the sympathetic glances with which she had been greeted when she paid calls; some people privately joked at the idea of her not having given up thinking about a husband, others, knowing her straitened circumstances, felt sympathy for her. "Under no circumstances will I go to Berlin this year," she declared to her parents. "I am too proud and too ashamed to exhibit myself again at all the parties, and yet get neither a lover nor a purchaser!" The dispute lasted all day long, but at last her father, who was threatened with a warrant for distraint on account of a wine bill for five hundred marks, fell on his knees before her and begged her to save him. Then at last her opposition gave way. But she felt so wretched and miserable, so degraded and despondent, that during the long railway journey she constantly wept. "My dear child, you have never before looked so out of sorts; what is the matter with you?" her aunt had asked her, and she had only been reassured when Hildegarde feigned a violent headache. Her aunt breathed more freely, but next morning and the following days Hildegarde's looks did not satisfy her, and it was impossible to conceal the fact that she was no longer the blooming young girl that she had been. Her aunt looked at her sympathetically, and more to herself than to her niece she said, "It's high time--high time!" "Yes, it certainly is," chimed in Hildegarde, "for I cannot bear this life any longer. If I do not get engaged this time--and I am convinced I shall _not_--I am going to get a place as a governess or a companion, or something of the sort. This I know--I won't go home again."