“He does not mind being wet,” said Crescenz, stretching her head as far as possible out of the window; “he sometimes goes out when it is actually raining—Ah!” she exclaimed, faintly screaming, while she drew back and covered her eyes with her hand, “his horse started frightfully at the corner of the street—if he had been thrown on the pavement!” “Let me see,” cried Madame Berger, pushing past her to take her place—“how provoking, he has turned the corner! But Cressy, I say, come here;” and she whispered a few words, and pointed downwards towards the street, where the same officer who had been addressed by Zedwitz again stood near the brazier’s shop, looking towards the window where they were assembled. “I wonder who he is!” exclaimed Madame Berger, returning his gaze with a steadiness almost amounting to effrontery. “Do you know that officer, Theodor?” “No; but he will know you again,” he replied, laughing. “I can pardon his looking towards this window,” said Madame Berger, intending to be ingenuous, while her manner betrayed considerable levity, “I can pardon his looking towards this window, for I dare say he has not often seen three such pretty faces as ours together,” and she attempted to draw Hildegarde towards her as she spoke. “I don’t choose to be exhibited,” cried Hildegarde, drawing back. The next moment she began to laugh, while she added, “I can inform you, however, that you are quite mistaken if you think this window parade be intended for you. I met that officer yesterday evening on the stairs when I was coming from the cellar with Walburg, and she told me he is to be married in spring to the daughter of the new lodger—so you may be sure he is waiting to see Mademoiselle de Hoffmann, and not thinking of either you or Crescenz.” “I am not quite so sure of that,” said Madame Berger; “for you remember, Crescenz, we saw him standing there more than a fortnight ago, and before these Hoffmanns were in the house.” “Very true,” said Crescenz, “but he is certainly looking at the windows on the first floor now.” “And he certainly _was_ looking up here when I first observed him,” persisted Madame Berger. “Pray what sort of a person is this Mademoiselle de Hoffmann? Has anyone seen her?” “Walburg has seen her,” replied Crescenz, “and she says she is not at all pretty; but the servants say she is very amiable and an excellent housekeeper.” “Probably not young,” observed Madame Berger, arranging her ringlets at the glass—“probably not young, if she be amiable and a good housekeeper; these qualities belong to riper years.” “She is not very young, I believe.” “I thought as much,” cried Madame Berger, laughing, “and he is certainly not thirty—do you think he is?” “He seems to be young,” said Crescenz, peeping carefully from behind the muslin curtain. “Crescenz, come away from the window,” said Hildegarde, authoritatively; “it is not right to watch anybody in that way.”