"I do not know why you should suppose her to have made an exception in my case, Herr von Dollen," Bernhard interrupted him, with some irritation. "Ah! _pardon_, I only thought that perhaps you knew----" "I know nothing," Bernhard briefly rejoined. He was not in a pleasant mood, and soon after left the ball. As he was passing through the gateway, he suddenly heard himself called by name. "_Vraiment, c'est Monsieur de Eikhoff_," said a harsh, grating voice that Bernhard seemed to have heard before. He turned and confronted the stranger. "Ah, _enchanté_, charmed to see you, _mon cher ami_; an unexpected meeting." "Most unexpected, Herr von Möhâzy," Bernhard said, coldly, touching his hat, and apparently overlooking the stranger's outstretched hand. The latter took no notice of this oversight, however, but continued, in his grating voice and in German, spoken with a strong foreign accent,-- "Are you, too, tired of the ball? They say we are going too soon, the height of gayety has not yet been reached. _À propos_, do you make a long stay in Berlin?" "So long as the Reichstag is in session. And you?" Bernhard asked, with sudden interest. "Shall you stay for the Carnival?" "Heaven, or whatever other powers there be, forbid! Berlin is too provincial, although it has made some progress of late years. I come from Paris, and am on my way to St. Petersburg." An expression of relief passed across Bernhardt face: "Ah? Allow me to wish you a pleasant winter." And he turned to go. "_O çà, Herr von Eikhoff!_" Herr von Möhâzy called after him; "I will not detain you if you are expected at a rendezvous!" He laughed, and Bernhard made a gesture of impatience. "Pardon, but I should like to learn something of a lady whom perhaps you know." "I can hardly have anything to tell of a lady whom _you_ inquire for," Bernhard said, sharply, while a flush rose to his forehead. But Herr von Möhâzy was not easily disconcerted. "Ah! pardon, I know you are _un jeune homme vertueux_; but my question refers to a lady of position, a Frau von---- Ah, what is her name at present?" He took out a note-book and turned over the leaves, while Bernhard, agitated by conflicting emotions, stood rooted as by a spell to the spot, instead of turning his back upon the man at once. "Ah, here it is," said Herr von Möhâzy,--"Frau Julutta Wronsky." And he looked at Bernhard again. "Do you know her? and could you tell me where to find her? It is merely for _un petit amusement sans consequence_." "You can look for the name in the directory," replied Bernhard, well knowing that 'Wronsky' could not be found in it. "You do not know her, then? But, _parbleu_! you did know her, _sûrement_. Ah, I must take you into confidence; the story is very piquant." "I regret, Herr Möhâzy, that I have not a moment to spare at present. Let me advise you to search the directory, and if you do not find the name there you may conclude that the lady is not in Berlin."