Reinhold, who knew by experience that in consequence of the noise of hammers and chisels in Justus's studio, a knock at the door was seldom heard, had gone before and opened the door at once, and had got some way into the room before he saw, in a corner before a cast at which Justus was working, the latter standing with Ferdinanda. Ottomar and Philip had followed him so quickly, that they had all got into the middle of the large room before the two, who were engaged in earnest conversation and bewildered by the noise around them, heard them come in, till Justus's Lesto--a shaggy little monster, of whom it was difficult to tell which was his head and which was his tail--flew with a loud bark at Philip, whose polished boots seemed to arouse his wrath. In the tumult caused by this bold attack--while Philip, fearing for his trousers, took refuge on a stool, and Justus, nearly dying of laughter, vainly called "Lesto! Lesto!" and the four or five assistants, with Antonio amongst them, moved a few obstacles out of the way, and brought chairs--Reinhold had not noticed the deep blush that overspread Ferdinanda's beautiful face when she perceived Ottomar, and the embarrassment with which the latter greeted her. By the time the confusion was somewhat allayed, and Lesto had subsided into quiet, the two had recovered their presence of mind, and the more easily that the first glance that passed between them was one of reconciliation. He had returned to her after three long anxious days, which she had passed in longing and despair. Now all was made up--all was forgiven and forgotten. After the first happy and tremulous glance, she had not again looked at him, and was now chatting with Reinhold and Philip; but to Ottomar, the fact that she remained, that she did not after the first greeting retire into her studio, the door of which stood open, was an infallible proof of her penitence perhaps, certainly of her love. And then the full, somewhat deep tone of her voice--he seemed to hear it for the first time; and he did hear it for the first time. Till to-day they had only exchanged hasty whispered words. Her laugh--he had never thought that she could laugh--it seemed to him a very miracle; her figure, whose classical form appeared more beautiful in the straight, clinging, grey working dress than it could have done in the most coquettish attire; the rich brown hair, drawn simply back from her brows and loosely knotted together low down in her neck--he had never known how beautiful she was! He stood before finished and unfinished works--they might have been the slides of a magic-lantern; he spoke to one and the other, chatted and joked; he had no idea what he said or what they answered; he was in a dream--a sweet and delicious dream--but for a few minutes only; then he awoke to a sense of the situation in which he found himself--a situation which he could hardly have wished more favourable, and the advantages of which he was determined to