Felix was not generally the man to be intimidated by such suggestions, but he was quite willing to abandon this enterprise, as his experienced scout had reported to him, as the result of his reconnaissance in the other direction, that there success was easy and sure. Don Giovanni Felix had thereupon opened the trenches in due form, and was, of course, by no means surprised when, a few days later, the little fortification surrendered at discretion. And yet it was by no means easy to carry out a gallant adventure in the château. It had such a labyrinth of passages, so many large and small staircases, which landed you suddenly in stories to which you had no intention of going, and so many doors which all looked alike, and made you enter any room but your own, that one who was not perfectly at home there was almost sure to go astray. Felix had paid the penalty of being a stranger, and had lost his way more than once by night, succeeding in regaining his room only after much trouble and hours of fruitless efforts. He preferred, therefore, to lie in wait for his little beauty in the garden, where shady walks and discreet bowers offered many a safe place for rendezvous, and which was as accessible to the denizens of the lower regions as to the great people of the château. Thus he had stolen out this night also, and was waiting for his poor little victim in one of the bosquets, from which one could see the offices as well as the lower windows of the château. The great clock struck twelve--the hour fixed for the rendezvous. The moon was shining brightly; the dewdrops on leaves and flowers glittered in its rays; Felix could see by his watch that the castle clock was a quarter of an hour behind time. The lights in the château had disappeared one by one; only in two windows of the lower story towards the garden the light of a lamp was still shining through the red curtains. Felix saw the vague outlines of a figure at regular intervals appear, and then disappear again--evidently the occupant was walking up and down in the room. Then she must have sat down again at the piano, for single notes were heard, like the notes of a bird, who tries to sing his songs as he dreams in the moonlight; then they mingled into full accords, and at last Beethoven's glorious _Sonate pathétique_ poured forth its rich melodies, as if angels were singing while they hovered at midnight, with outspread wings, over the earth, gathering all the joys and all the sorrows of this world in their godlike hearts, and pouring them forth in one solemn anthem full of unspeakable sadness and heavenly sweetness. It would have been strange if Felix had really dared to lift up his eyes and to raise his hands towards the pure, chaste girl who was playing, without some feeling of remorse; for as he stood there, leaning against a column with an urn on top, and listening, he felt his own want of purity. He was not altogether without feeling; he could