On the appearance of a tall, haggard, austere-looking man, in the long garment of a priest, Zedwitz advanced towards him and begged admittance for the ladies, the scowling countenance convincing him at once that for him there was no chance whatever. He was volubly seconded by Madame Rosenberg, who, with that want of tact not unusual on the part of uneducated women, actually attempted to be jocular with the awful looking personage; but neither the polished address of Zedwitz nor the jocularity of Madame Rosenberg could prevail. He refused without ceremony, and in very few words told them that without bringing a permission from the _Ordinariat_ in Munich they could not be admitted; the entrance of strangers disturbed the nuns, and was against the rules of the convent. They turned away, Crescenz observing timidly that she would not like to be a nun where there was such a severe confessor. “I hope you have no thoughts of being a nun anywhere,” observed the Major. “I should have no objection to such a confessor,” said Hildegarde; “I rather prefer one who has something imposing in his appearance; it gives me the idea that he is above the weaknesses of human nature.” “What nonsense you talk, Hildegarde!” cried Madame Rosenberg, with evident irritation. “It is only a spirit of contradiction which makes you pretend to admire a man who has been so disagreeable and uncivil to us all.” Hildegarde walked more slowly, and Zedwitz, who had been lingering behind, immediately joined her. “So you like stern-looking men!” he observed, in a low voice. “I said I liked a confessor who had something imposing in his manner.” “Oh! for a confessor merely? But for a friend, a lover, or a husband, you prefer something quite different, don’t you?” “Perhaps I should,” she answered carelessly. “Or, perhaps,” said Hamilton, “you think of entering the nunnery here out of pure admiration for that long, gaunt man! There is no accounting for taste.” “I do not intend to take the veil until you have become a monk.” “When I become a monk it will not be here; I shall choose a more hospitable place and jolly companions, such as one generally reads of. The incivility of your friend with the austere countenance has greatly disgusted me.” The buildings on the other island were very extensive. The church had been turned into a brew-house, and not long after its desecration it was burned. “A very proper judgment,” as Madame Rosenberg observed, glancing meaningly towards Zedwitz. Handsome broad marble stairs led to the upper apartments, of which a few have been lately modernized. The carved wood on the doors of the cells and the picture-frames in the refectory were admirable. “Altogether,” said Hamilton, looking out of one of the windows across the lake, “altogether a place where one could spend a fortnight very agreeably with a gay party.” “Or with Hildegarde and her sister,” said Zedwitz, in a low voice. “If Crescenz were not so insipid, with all her prettiness.”