Christmas Eve in the home of Hofrat Franz Spineder. The little yellow brick house, which the Hofrat had inherited from his grandfather, lay far out in Grinzing, beyond the end of the tramway line. Viewed from the outside the one-story house with a high gate of green-painted wood and the green shades looked almost primitive; but when one opened the gate and saw the courtyard with its old-fashioned pump, one stopped short, amazed and delighted. The courtyard gradually developed into a gently sloping garden that seemed almost endless. In the summer wall-flowers, tulips, roses, and carnations shone in southern splendor,--behind the ornamental garden hundreds of trees were bowed to the ground under their burden of apples, pears, apricots, plums, and cherries. But the orchard was not the end of the garden, which rose steeply through a vineyard to a little Old Viennese summer-house with multicolored windows, perched on the crest of the hill. Enchanting as the unsuspected garden, were the furnishings of the living-room. Ancient, comfortable, stiff and graceful furniture of the Baroque, Congress, and Biedermeier periods, valuable etchings and paintings on the walls, two genuine Waldmüllers, a Schwind in the drawing-room, beautiful glassware of many colors, Old Viennese porcelain, sparkling silver in glass cases and on the side-board,--one only had to close one’s eyes to see men and women in the costume of Maria Theresa’s time and in the Biedermeier coat. Franz Spineder was a government official, as his father and grandfather had been before him; however, he was not dependent on his salary from the Ministry of Education, but possessed considerable private means. Even the house with its enormous garden and its valuable furnishings represented millions at the current rate. Besides, his wife came of the Halbhuber family, whose remote ancestors had amassed great wealth as tanners and manufacturers of leather goods. And as the Spineders now had only one child, Lotte, who was just eighteen, they could live comfortably in spite of the high prices and the confusion of the times. Silently Lotte and Frau Spineder decorated the Christmas tree, attached chocolate cookies, candies, glass balls, and candles to the fragrant boughs. Frau Spineder, a plump, still pretty woman, cast a side-long glance toward her slender, blonde, strikingly beautiful and charming daughter. “Lotte! Now you’ve tears in your eyes again! Think of Papa--tonight, at least, he wants to see cheerful faces! And don’t make poor Leo’s heart any heavier!” Lotte dropped a little chocolate chimney-sweep so that his head broke off; covering her face with her hands, she leaned on her mother’s shoulder and began to sob bitterly. “My heart’s breaking, Mother! You’ll see, I won’t survive Leo’s having to leave the country! Please, Mother--let me go with him!” Tenderly Frau Spineder, whose eyes also were moist, stroked the soft, shimmering golden hair of her daughter.