least to Oswald, as he saw her fly by him in the waltz or met her halfway in the cotillon. A strange mixture of contradictory sensations filled his heart. Since the moment when he had seen Baron Oldenburg's portrait for the first time in Melitta's album, he had never been able to get rid of the thought. What were their relations? But, often as that question had been on his lips, he had never dared to utter it, and the higher the sun of his love arose on the heavens, the paler became the threatening shadow. But to-day his half-dormant doubts had been cruelly aroused by Barnewitz's story, by the appearance of the man himself, and by Melitta's conduct. Again the question arose on his lips, and again he drove it back to its secret place in his heart. He was angry with Melitta, that she should cause him such suffering; he was angry with himself, that he had been persuaded by her to follow her to this party, into this world of nobles, who, he knew, only tolerated him; into this world of frivolous enjoyment and haughty conceit, this noisy, blinding world, which contrasted so miserably with his romantic love and seemed to scoff at the blissful, almost sublime solitude at the forest cottage! It seemed to him an old, old fairy tale, that he had held this wonderful woman in his arms--that he had pressed his lips upon her rosy lips, alas! how often! she looked to him so changed, a perfect stranger. He could not persuade himself that this was Melitta, who was laughing with young Breesen and talking with Cloten, and answering his foolish sallies so politely. And then again, when her bright eye met his, when her hand in the cotillon pressed his so sweetly, when on such an occasion a: Sweet love! you darling!--became barely audible to him--then it was again Melitta, his Melitta! And once more doubts, rising to insane anxiety, chased after certainty, which filled him with unspeakable happiness, as dark shadow and bright sunlight are chasing each other across a fair summer landscape; and in order to escape this sweet anguish, this bitter delight, he sipped with hasty, eager desire the intoxicating beverage, which consists of dazzling light, joyous music, and voluptuous perfumes, and in a ball-room excites and confuses so strangely the senses of all the guests, till they approach Bacchanalian rapture.