"But it's quite out of the question!" cried Otto. "I cannot let you. It would be downright ..." In thus urging his friend to stay, Otto was simply following the dictates of his own good-natured heart, without any reference to his own special interests; now it suddenly occurred to him that his wife had that very morning called Bertram's presence a positive misfortune, and had accused him of standing--the one obstacle--between herself and the execution of her favourite plan. So he broke off abruptly, casting a sheepish, embarrassed look at his wife. Hildegard blushed to the very temples. Now she was obliged to urge him to stay, if everything she had been settling during the last few days in secret with Lydia and the Baron, and at last with her husband too, was not to lie like an open book before Bertram, and unless there was to be a real rupture, which, of course, it was desirable to avoid as long as possible. In order to conceal the true reason of her blush, she seized, as though obeying some uncontrollable impulse, both his hands, and said-- "I am almost speechless with amazement, my friend! Otto is quite right; the thing is impossible, it would be downright--abominable--that is what you were going to say, is it not, dear Otto? You cannot, must not leave us now. In a few days, if it really must be, well and good; but not now. I have--quite apart from our own feelings--revelled in the thought of the pleasant surprise it will be for Herr von Waldor to meet here, upon the threshold of a strange house, an old friend of his own. And if old friendship cannot exercise a spell over you, are you not allured by the prospect of meeting the mysterious Russian, whose name you alone were able to decipher, and who will not care to converse with any one except yourself, once she has heard how beautifully you speak French? But come--Otto, Lydia, Agatha--help me to entreat our friend to stay." In the general excitement, every one had risen from table, dinner being finished anyhow, and now they were talking on the verandah. The Baron had reappeared too, but was keeping at some little distance; he evidently had not quite recovered from his attack. Those to whom Hildegard had appealed by name hastened to comply with her request, and were all urging Bertram to remain. He never heard them at all; he did not even see them; he had eyes for Erna only. Erna, as though she had no interest whatever in the matter under discussion, had stepped down from the verandah to one of the flower-plots on the lawn. Suddenly she turned, retraced her steps slowly, ascended the verandah again, and approached him. Her cheeks--so pale but a short time ago--were flushed now; there was a light in those large eyes, and a defiant smile played round her dainty lips. She fastened a beautiful red rose, just about to unfold, in his buttonhole. "I prayed you the night you came--I pray you again: Stay! stay--for my sake! Come, Agatha!"