the eyes of the world. I only know that a reconciliation has taken place,--which I presume must have been a complete one between two persons of such experience,--and, to keep the solemnity duly secret, they have made a journey together, and where? To Fichtenau, the place where Melitta's husband has been confined for seven years! Really, I am sorry for Melitta. If she intended to ruin her reputation, she could not have done more. For even if Berkow is really on the point of death, what can Oldenburg have to do there, he who is the cause of the whole misery? And does Melitta really think she can marry Oldenburg after Berkow's death? Alas! If Oldenburg had to marry all the women to whom he has vowed love in his life he would have a nice seraglio, from the duchess to the maid, in which all nations and all races would be represented. But, heavens! what is the matter with you? You look like a corpse. Are you unwell?" "It is only the excessive heat," said Oswald, rising. "Pardon me, I pray, for leaving you so abruptly. I must try if the cool evening air will help me." He made Hortense a very formal bow, and went without waiting for her answer. "Well, what does that mean?" asked the latter, looking after him as he hastened out. "Has my excellent cousin made another conquest there? And have I unwittingly killed two birds with one stone? I meant only to rob Oldenburg of his new friend; but if I have robbed Melitta at the same time of a new admirer, so much the better. I should think that young man could be made useful. To be sure, I must be a little cautious, for Barnewitz has become a real Othello since that affair with Cloten--there he is now.... My dear Barnewitz, do you look a little after your poor, forlorn little wife? I have been sitting here all the evening waiting for you." "Why don't you dance?" "Do you think I like to dance when you are away?" "I have arranged a little game at cards with Grieben and some others, but I can jump about with you some little time. Come! They are just beginning a waltz! That is exactly my forte." And the happy couple entered the room where the dancers were. In the mean while Oswald was wandering about in the garden, restless, like one who suffers terrible pain. From the open doors and windows came bright lights and merry voices; around the lawn colored paper lanterns had been hung by Anna Maria's direction, and the moonlight became almost superfluous. From time to time a few couples would come out and promenade in the balsamic night air. It was a pleasant, festive scene, which, however, offended Oswald in his present frame of mind, as when a friend smiles at our suffering. He went up on the wall, sat down on a bench and stared, his head resting on his hand, into the water of the moat, on which the rays of the moon were dancing in weird confusion.