"Yes, it is very remarkable," said Hugo with an offended air. "I cannot allow any one in the house to exist who is not entirely persuaded of my perfections, and have already set myself the task of presenting myself to my sister-in-law in all my utterly irresistible charms. I do not doubt at all that she will thereupon immediately join the majority--you are not jealous, I hope." "Jealous?--I? and on Ella's account?" The young man shrugged his shoulders half-pityingly, half-contemptuously. "What are you thinking of?" "Well, there is no danger! I have sought an interview with her already, but she was entirely occupied with the young one. Tell me, Reinhold, where does the child get those wonderful, blue, fairy-tale-like eyes from? Yours are not so, besides there is not the least resemblance, and, excepting his, I do not know any in the family." "I believe Ella's eyes are blue," interrupted his brother indifferently. "You believe only? Have you never convinced yourself then? Certainly it may be somewhat difficult; she never raises them, and, under that monstrous cap, nothing can be seen of her face. Reinhold, for Heaven's sake, how can you allow your wife such an antediluvian costume? I assure you, for me that cap would be grounds sufficient for a divorce." Reinhold had seated himself at the piano, and let his hands glide mechanically over the notes, while he answered with perfect indifference-- "I never trouble myself about Ella's toilet, and I believe it would be useless to try and enforce any alterations there. What does it matter to me?" "What it matters to you how your wife looks?" repeated the Captain, as he seized some sheets of music on the table, and turned them over lightly, "a charming question from a young husband! You used to have a sense of beauty, too easily aroused, and I could almost fear--what is this then? 'Signora Beatrice Biancona on it.' Have you Italian correspondents in the town?" Reinhold sprang up, confusion and annoyance struggled in his face, as he saw the letter, which he had pushed under the music, in his brother's hands, who repeated the address unconcernedly. "Beatrice Biancona? That is the _prima donna_ of the Italian Opera, who has made such a wonderful sensation here? Do you know the lady?" "Slightly," said Reinhold, taking the letter quickly from his hands. "I was introduced to her lately at Consul Erlau's." "And you correspond with her already?" "Certainly not! The letter does not contain one single line." Hugo laughed aloud, "An envelope fully addressed, a very voluminous sheet of paper inside it, with not a single line! Dear Reinhold, that is more wonderful than my story of the giant snake. Do you expect me really to believe it? There, do not look so savage, I do not intend to force myself into your secrets." Instead of answering, the young man drew the paper out of the unsealed envelope, and held it to his brother, who looked at it in astonishment.