It was the old story over again. She was unlike the others, and, without meaning it, frightened them all away. Wherever she went, the curse of eccentricity attached to her. No one shared her interests,--she had nothing in common with any one,--she was, and must continue to be, alone! Even Johannes grew thoughtful and silent. She timidly sought his eye, but he did not look at her. Elsa, although she had no public, was still playing Ophelia, and was pondering upon the sweetness of the service she could render if it were only asked of her. Ah, no one wanted to see how charmingly she could obey. And she softly hummed to herself, in English, Ophelia's words, "Larded all with sweet flowers, Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers." Frau Taun looked gravely across at Ernestine. She ceased to anticipate _tableaux vivants_,--nothing could be done with such material. And then the conversation at table! She really could not expose her young guests to listen to anatomical treatises. Herbert noticed the breach that had been made in Frau Taun's good opinion, and hastened to throw a bombshell into it. "She has not the slightest sense of refinement." The ladies in the vicinity nodded assent. Heaven be thanked! this combination of beauty and learning was wanting in what they possessed in fullest measure, and she had already succeeded in making herself disagreeable to the gentlemen who had been so impressed by her appearance. One lady plucked the sleeve of her neighbour. "See her sit with her elbows upon the table!" "How coarse!" "There now, see how quickly you have made enemies of all these people," whispered old Heim. "You are not wrong from your point of view,--but where is the use of battering so at the door of a house where you have been received as a guest? If you wish to associate with mankind, you must not go about treading upon their toes." "I do not wish to associate with these people," said Ernestine. "Oh, yes, you do! You must wish it. Do you suppose that you need no help, no support,--that you can get along entirely alone in the world? How unpractical! how terribly exaggerated!" "I do not understand you, Father Heim." "I don't suppose you do----" Angelika here interrupted the conversation, saying, as she handed Ernestine a plate of apricot crême, which was greatly lauded, "You must eat some of this, Fräulein Ernestine. I made it myself, and I am very proud of it." "You have just heard how Fräulein von Hartwich despises the noble art of cookery. Don't pride yourself upon it before her," sneered Moritz.