"Then listen. You know my cousin Melitta. Well, she has foibles as well as all of us, but at the bottom she is a charming woman, whom I love dearly, and whom I should be extremely sorry to see once more in hands from which I thought I had rescued her forever. If Melitta is not as good as she could be, Oldenburg alone has that on his conscience. He turned her head, when she was quite young, with his foolish notions, so that at last she knew no longer what was right and what was wrong. Then, when she made that capital match with Baron Berkow, he disturbed their good relations by his interference, and it was no wonder that Berkow at last lost his mind from jealousy. I saw how that came about. At last I succeeded in persuading Melitta to send Oldenburg away for a few years. He went, but when we shortly afterwards were travelling in Italy he reappeared, I know not whether by accident or called in by Melitta. From her manner I should have supposed the latter. The old story began once more. Solitary walks, low whisperings and vows, which took place even in the presence of third persons--in short, it was a downright unpleasant sight for one who, like myself, thinks rather strictly in such matters. In vain I begged and besought Melitta to think of her sick husband and of her child. I preached to deaf ears. Then I determined to use desperate means. In order to prove to her Oldenburg's worthlessness--of which I had heard on all sides fabulous accounts--I pretended to let him fall in love with myself. It did not require much effort, for the baron is both treacherous and reckless in his passions. After a little while he pursued me with his adoration--of course without committing himself before Melitta. At the same time he spoke so heartlessly, so wickedly of my poor cousin, that I was scarcely able to wear the mask which I had assumed. And yet I had to do it till Oldenburg should be impassioned enough to run blindly into the net which I had prepared. I managed it so that one day, in the garden of the villa Serra di Falco, near Palermo, he made me a declaration of love, while Melitta was standing a few feet from us behind a myrtle hedge. Poor woman! It was a painful operation, but it was necessary. Oldenburg disappeared of course the next morning. I tried to amuse Melitta as well as I could, and I must confess she bore the bitter disappointment, the cruel humiliation, better than I had expected. I hoped the severe lesson would have opened her eyes, as to Oldenburg, forever, especially when I found that the baron gave her time for reflection by staying away for several years. But suddenly he turns up again a few weeks ago. I anticipated evil at once--for the appearance of this man is always the signal for some calamity. How he has managed to regain Melitta's favor, and how it is possible that Melitta could be weak enough to readmit him to her house, is more than I can tell. Both of them possess a remarkable talent of concealing their actions from