“Perhaps she is more bored than boring,” replied Isabella. The stranger looked at her attentively. “Who are you, I wonder, that you know so much about this? Perhaps a lady’s maid from the castle?” She stammered timidly: “Yes.” She had learned so little, did not know how to tell even a lie. “Well, if that is so, I wish you would tell me a little about your mistress. I heard that she was quite a nice-looking puppet, pulled by a string, either by her father or her lady-in-waiting. Is she not going to marry Count Vierstein in the near future?” “She is not quite such a puppet as you think!” cried Isabella, very indignantly, and in quite another tone. “The string is broken; she is _not_ going to marry this wild Count, not under any circumstances!” “Oh, oh! Is the Count really so wild? And how do you know that?” “He lives only among hunters, horses, dogs, and soldiers, and roams the woods all day long!” “So, so! And why are you roaming through old castles all alone, my highly virtuous young woman?” “I? Oh, I wished to see the schoolmaster and the--the tower that was blown up yesterday,” Isabella answered, very much embarrassed. “Well, I intended to see the tower too; the schoolmaster’s book interested me--” “Have you read his book? That was the reason _I_ came here,” interrupted Isabella. “It is an absurd book,” the stranger went on. “But the man’s feeling for his castle is true and strong. After reading his book you feel drawn toward this place, whether you wish to come or not.” “That is just what happened to me,” whispered the Princess. “There is a sentimental maid for you,” thought the stranger. “They are becoming very frequent in our philosophical century.” “That young man has a good heart and clear head,” thought Isabella. As far back as she could remember he was the first person who had ever shown her any sympathy. “Oh, see here,” he suddenly broke out aloud and straightened himself. “I can not play a part. I am Count Vierstein, whom you called ‘the wild Count.’ And if I do roam about in God’s nature all day long, I get more joy and pleasure out of it than do your pale people who live indoors. I can see the sun rising here from this enchanted castle, as I did to-day--and--I am furious at the people over there in Westerau who, without further ado, are barbarous enough to blow up the home of their ancestors. You may tell your mistress so; I shall see her myself to-day, but shall not have much to say to her, certainly nothing about this.” For a while Isabella stood speechless with terror. But the Count did not look at all wicked; in fact, he was quite handsome; and not nearly so ill-mannered as Fräulein von Martigny had described him; on the contrary, he seemed to her kind and very tactful. This consideration lessened her terror. Should she tell him? But shame closed her lips. Finally she controlled herself and whispered: “Are you really on the way to Westerau? Several times you have been expected there, but always in vain.”