Cloten aimed carefully, but whether the new aim disturbed him, or his hand had become nervous, his ball only grazed the upper edge of the card. Oswald stepped forward, his eye took in the whole number of noblemen who surrounded him. "Take it for granted that the ace of spades is the heart of some nobleman or other," he heard a well-known voice whisper.... He fired, and in the place of the ace there was a hole a little smaller than his ball. "Console yourself, Cloten," said Oldenburg. "'_Non semper arcum tendit Apollo_'--that means: failures must come." "Really superb," said Baron Barnewitz, showing the card to the company; "the ace cut out clean." "Do you wish your revenge, Baron Cloten?" asked Oswald. "No, thank you, some other time. Feel my hand is not quite steady to-day." "Why did you not pay forfeit, Cloten?" laughed Oldenburg, pocketing the money he had won. "Here they are! here they are!" said suddenly a dozen girls' voices, and from behind the shrubbery which separated the shooting-gallery from the path there appeared Emily von Breesen, her cousin Lisbeth von Meyen, and one of the three Misses Nadelitz, like so many white butterflies. "You are nice gentlemen--spoilers of fun--instantly you come back with us!" said one after another. "Surely, you might do something better, Adolphus, than to spend the whole afternoon here with your stupid firing," said Emily to her brother. "He must come, too," cried Lisbeth, "we take them all captive. You, Emily, take the doctor, you are the strongest and he is the leader--Natalie, Natalie, hold Baron Langen! he wants to run away." "Gentlemen!" said Oswald, "resistance would be high treason!--Ladies! we surrender unconditionally," and he offered Emily von Breesen his arm. The two other gentlemen followed his example, and the three handsome couples ran off laughing. "An elopement in _optima forma_," grinned Oldenburg. "I suppose we had better go too," said Barnewitz, "for I fear if we were to wait till the young ladies come for us we would have to wait forever." "_Allons, enfants de la patrie!_" sang Oldenburg, in the falsest possible tone, and with a voice which sounded very much like the crowing of a hoarse rooster on a rainy day, and took Cloten under the arm. "Cloten, _mon brave_, we are growing old," he said, as they were walking towards the house, a little behind the others. "If we do not make haste to get married we shall lose all our prospects of conjugal happiness, legitimate paternity, and a speedy death. Amen!" "Ah, nonsense! Baron, you are at least five years older than I am." "That did not prevent the young ladies from treating us both like dogs." "That little Emily is a prodigiously pretty little girl." "_Si, signore_, and what eyes she made the doctor! Great, big, gray eyes, full of love! At sixteen that is doing well." "Wretched doll-baby." "Who? Miss Emily?" "Ah! that man, the doctor."