To the latter, variety of occupation, change of scene in a foreign land, the activity of a military life, the incessant stir and alarms of war, would, in spite of love, separation, and fear of rivalry and of her family, draw in fresh moods of thought and afford thereby a certain healthy relief; but she was left amid the scenes of her departed joy, with the additional affliction before her of domestic persecution and the odious addresses of a would-be lover! How eagerly she hoped that he would be detained for months at Berlin! 'Oh, Herminia!' she would sometimes say to her cousin; 'I was so happy--so happy, that it is a sin to make me so miserable!' 'Be calm, darling, be calm; Heinrich will bring him to you once again,' replied the girl, embracing her. 'It will be miraculous if they _both_ escape the dangers of this mighty war.' 'Do not speak thus, I implore you,' said Herminia, passionately, and somewhat scared by her cousin's tone of voice and expression of eye. 'My sufferings are indeed great, Herminia. Do you remember,' she asked, with a sad smile, 'all you endured at Cologne, when you only knew Heinrich as Herr Mansfeld?' 'Never, never shall I forget them, and the agony that I suffered on one particular evening, when I heard you laughing, and deemed you heartless, dear cousin. How I then loathed the name of Heinrich--it seems wonderful now!' 'So now do I loathe that of the Baron. Oh, Herminia, few like me have to endure misery without the prospect of relief!' In the evening after Rhineberg had withdrawn, the Countess, whose mind was still running on her daughter's evident emotion at the name of Burtscheid, gave vent to the anger and suspicion that excited her. 'Did you ever _go_ to Burtscheid with Herr Pierrepont?' she asked abruptly. 'Never, mamma,' replied Ernestine, blushing again, but at her own quibble rather than the question of her mother, who, after eyeing her narrowly, almost sternly for a minute, said-- 'You still pine for that insolent young man. I can see it in your face, Ernestine!' 'Oh, mamma!' said the girl, with a wonderful tenderness of tone, 'is it a crime to love?' 'Not if it is a proper love.' 'Then why, mamma darling, are you so severe on _me_?' asked Ernestine, nestling in her mother's neck in the most endearing manner. 'I wish to protect and guide you, and to teach you that you must not love one who is beneath you.' 'But, dear Carl----' (The adjective escaped her unconsciously.) 'Grafine!' exclaimed the astonished Countess. 'Well, mamma, Carl Pierrepont is not beneath me.' 'This is new to me--how?' 'Because, even if he were so, love makes all equal.' By kisses and caresses she strove to win over her mother; but the latter almost thrust her back, saying: 'This is folly--worse than folly; crush, forget, dismiss such thoughts. They are unworthy of you, Ernestine--unworthy of _my_ daughter!'