"I'm dammed!" cried Lieutenant von Sturmhahn. "That's one for us!" The officers at the window laughed. The spectators outside, too, were much amused, and not unsympathetic. Klaus Heinrich joined in the general hilarity. The changing of the guard proceeded with loud words of command and snatches of march tunes. Klaus Heinrich returned to the "Hermitage." He lunched all alone, went for a ride in the afternoon on his brown horse Florian, and spent the evening at a big party at Dr. Krippenreuther, the Finance Minister's house. He related to several people with great animation the episode of the guard, although the story had already gone the round and become common property. Next day he had to go away, for he had been told by his brother to represent him at the inauguration of the new Town Hall in a neighbouring town. For some reason or other, he went reluctantly, he disliked leaving the capital. He had a feeling that he was missing an important, pleasant, though rather disquieting opportunity, which imperatively demanded his presence. And yet his exalted calling must be more important. But while he sat serene and gorgeously dressed on his seat of honour in the Town Hall, and read his speech to the Mayor, Klaus Heinrich's thoughts were not concentrated on the figure he presented to the eyes of the crowd, but rather were busied with this new and important topic. He also gave a passing thought to a person whose casual acquaintance he had made long years before, to Fräulein Unschlitt, the soap-boiler's daughter--a memory which had a certain connexion with the importunate topic.... Imma Spoelmann pushed the harsh-voiced sergeant aside in her anger--walked all alone, her algebra under her arm, down the ranks of the big fair-haired grenadiers. How pearly-white her face was against her black hair under her fur toque, and how her eyes spoke! There was nobody like her. Her father was rich, surfeited with riches, and had bought one of the Grand Ducal Schlosses. What was it that the _Courier_ had said about his undeserved reputation and the "romantic isolation of his life"? He was the object of the hatred of aggrieved rivals--that was the effect of the article. And her nostrils had distended with anger. There was nobody like her, nobody near or far. She was an exception. And suppose she had been at the Citizens' Ball on that occasion? He would then have had a companion, would not have made a fool of himself, and would not have ended the evening in despair. "Down, down, down with him!" Phew! Just think of how she looked as she walked, dark and pale and wonderful, down the ranks of fair-haired soldiers.