would make a point of turning up in good time. Would Fräulein Lydia be gracious enough to reserve the first Lancers for her obedient servant? So, with a mocking bow, he had hurried away, leaving Lydia in sorrow and terror. But the terror was greater than the sorrow. She had never seen the Baron like this, never dreamed that he could be like this. What if he carried out his threats! His eyes had been bloodshot and had a glassy kind of stare; and then his laugh had been awful; and he was a great strong man, assuredly in physical strength ever so much the superior of poor delicate Bertram. What if the Baron were to-night to bring about a scene, have recourse to actual violence! What will men not do in rage and despair! Her old love for Bertram, which after all she had felt in her own way, and which long ago she had sacrificed to her vanity and worldliness, was stirring again. Lydia felt it, and was enraptured. True, she had been lying and cheating to reach a certain goal that pure calculation had fixed. Still, she was a better woman than she had thought herself. She had thought that she was following the dictates of her reason only, and lo! she had unconsciously remained faithful to her own heart. She knew it now, at the moment when a serious danger was threatening the loved one. And, curiously, although during the last few days she had positively given up all hope of regaining the loved one, and had in envy and anger seen him in the bonds of affection for a fair young rival--an affection which, moreover, was warmly reciprocated; yet she suddenly began to doubt the justice of her observations; the old dreams were coming back and asserted that they were a reality, and that everything else was but a chimera. All, all would yet come right. Falsehood and hypocrisy had been powerless; truth and love, however, would be omnipotent!