His eyes rested thoughtfully on his sister's brave honest face, and then turned as if accidentally from her towards two windows of Herr Schmidt's house, which could be seen from the place where they were standing. The blue silk curtains of one of the two windows were drawn; they had been for the last three days; it meant, "I do not expect you this evening." Should he confide to the prudent, brave, faithful girl, the secret that weighed on his heart? Should he unburden his heavy heart by an open honest confession, here where he was sure to find, if not approval, at least comprehension, interest, and pity? Pity? and if only scorn awaited him from behind those curtains, if he were finally dismissed, and must say to-morrow, "Do not trouble yourself further, Elsa; it is all over and at an end: she has dismissed me--me!" he should have humbled himself to no purpose, exposed himself uselessly. No, no! there would be time enough for that. He would hear first from her own lips. "I will go over, Elsa," he said, "and I will go at once; I can sleep later." "You dear, good Ottomar!" exclaimed Elsa, throwing her arms round her brother and kissing him; "I knew you would." "Elsa, come here a minute, please!" called Sidonie from the dining-room door. "I am coming, aunt." Elsa hurried away; Ottomar looked gloomily after her, as the two ladies disappeared into the house. He walked a few paces farther till he was quite shut in by the thick shrubs and concealed from all eyes. He still looked cautiously round him, tore open his coat, and pulled out the letter which he had found on his father's table. In the envelope were several papers, he took out a small sheet in his father's handwriting. On the sheet was written: "Received this morning the two enclosed bills, which I have settled and receipted for you--1200 thalers; the last debts that I pay for you, for the reason that my own property, as you will see by the accompanying accounts, has been spent, with the exception of a small portion, in the same manner, and I cannot pay another penny without depriving my family of the means of living as our position demands, or running into debt myself, and must beg you to act accordingly. "V. Werben." A beautiful gay butterfly fluttered across the blue sky. A sparrow darted down from a tree, seized the butterfly, flew with it to the top of the garden wall, and there devoured his prize. A bitter smile played on Ottomar's lips. "You have soon frittered your life away, poor butterfly! Everything must have an end, one way or another!" CHAPTER II.