Linnet turned, with a crimson flush on her nut-brown face, to think that Philippina should speak so openly of Will, as of some one that belonged to her. But her cheek, to say the truth, was hardly redder than Will’s own, as he heard himself so described by the laughing _sennerin_ as Linnet’s Engländer. He couldn’t conceal from himself, however, the fact that he was glad to meet Linnet under whatever circumstances. With a wondering heart, he went up and took her hand. “Why, when did you come here?” he asked, all astonished. “The day before yesterday,” Linnet answered, tingling. “And she sang last night at the Austria,” Philippina put in, with her good-humoured smile, “and made a great success, too, I can tell you that; and took, oh, ever and ever so much money. Herr Andreas is so pleased. He goes chuckling to himself. I think he thinks Linnet will make his fortune.” “And how long do you stop here?” Will inquired, half-anxiously, half-eagerly. “About a month,” Linnet answered, looking deep into his eyes, and keeping down the rising tears as well as she could in her own. “And you, Herr Will? how long do you mean to remain here?” “A month or six weeks,” Will replied with a thrill. Then he added, gazing hard at her, in spite of Florian, “so I hope we may still have many chances of meeting?” Florian flung his fragile form at full length on the heap of stones by their side, and began to laugh unrestrainedly. “Well, it’s no use fighting against fate,” he cried, looking up at the blushing pair, with philosophic indulgence for the errors and foibles of youth and beauty and the poetic temperament. “You must go your own way, I suppose. I retire from the contest. I’ve done my very best, dear boy, to preserve you from yourself; but the stars in their courses seem to fight against Sisera.” He extended both his small hands with paternal unction. “Bless you, my children,” he cried, theatrically. “Be happy. Be happy.” “Which way are you walking?” Will asked in German, to cover his confusion. “Well, we were going towards the Schloss,” Philippina replied, smiling. “But the climb’s rather stiff, so we sat down for awhile by these stones, just to rest on the hill-top.” “The finger of fate again!” Florian cried, much amused, raising his hands deprecatingly. “Well, Will, there’s no help for it; I see they must go with us. It’s useless trying to keep you and your Oread apart any longer, so I won’t attempt it. Two’s company, three’s none. The only thing left for a wise man like me—is just to walk on in front and take a German lesson from Fräulein Philippina.”