"But those are _tempi passati_, my dear Mary! I have now to learn to enjoy my music alone, and to submit patiently to the company of people among whom you are not. I miss you everywhere; I miss some of the others also, and I do not yet see how it will be possible for me to be happy without you. Do not think, however, that they are unkind to me here! On the contrary, I must acknowledge that my good people here have all met me most kindly. I did not expect anything else from papa, you know--but, you have read my mother's letters! You thought they resembled each other like so many flakes of snow. But she also is much less severe than she used to be, and I may do and not do what I like, a thing we always thought would be perfect bliss when we were at school. My rooms are in the first story of the old castle, just above the garden, and a door opens from my salon right upon it. Thus I can live quite undisturbed, although I can reach the sitting-rooms through a passage by a few steps. You know I was always afraid I would not be able to indulge here in my favorite amusement of playing at night, when everything is quiet. I have no such fear now, and I have enjoyed my music every night since I have come here. I disturb nobody, unless it be a couple of gentlemen who live somewhere above me in the same part of the castle, but who fortunately belong to the class of men whom we candidly call nobodies. They are the tutor, a certain Mr. Stein, and a surveyor, whom papa employs, and who enjoys the aristocratic name of Timm. Both might pass for handsome, or, to tell the truth, I almost suspect you would call Mr. Stein 'handsome and very gentlemanly indeed,' but you need not think for all that that either of them has made an impression upon me. I have an antipathy against people in such subordinate positions, as I dislike calico dresses and false jewelry. They may do for governesses and such people, but not for us. I see them at dinner and in the evening--otherwise I ignore their existence. I sometimes meet Mr. Stein in the morning, when he takes his early walk in the garden. For the birds are singing here so close to my windows that I must get up, whether I choose or not. I would rather not meet him, but what can I do? The poor man has to give six or seven lessons in the forenoon, and so I cannot well forbid him to enjoy the only morning hour he has free; and if I were to go later I should lose the cream of the morning. I have to submit, you see, and can only say, _Non sono rose senza spine!_ However, this Mr. Stein, although only an imitation diamond, is so well polished that a less practised eye might well take him for genuine. He has more self-control and better manners than we generally find with people of low birth. He has a way of telling you a compliment or an impertinence with the calmest air in the world, as if he did not care in the least who you might be, which amuses me at times.