It was after one of these engagements, in which she had exhibited more than usual vehemence, and he had excelled himself in the art of tormenting, that he found Crescenz alone in the garden. The contrast was irresistible for the moment; it was calm and sunshine after a storm! There she sat, busily employed knitting a stocking, which, from its dimensions, might probably be intended for Major Stultz! Her fingers and elbows moved with a rapidity perfectly inconceivable; and as she had for the last four-and-twenty hours been enacting the sentimental and offended, he was allowed to admire her pretty face uninterruptedly as long as he chose, her heightened colour all the time convincing him that she knew he was looking at her. After a few significant coughs, which remained unnoticed, he turned to go away. She looked up and—sighed. This he imagined to be a sort of encouragement; perhaps it was intended for such, as the look which accompanied the sigh was reproachful. He seated himself beside her, while he admired the rapidity with which her work proceeded. The praises were unheeded. “And who is the happy person destined to wear this?” he asked, playing with the huge piece of work. “That cannot in any way interest you,” she answered stiffly; but she sighed again. “Everything concerning you interests me; from the time I first saw you eating roast chicken even to the present moment——” “You have an odd way of showing your interest, then. Hildegarde says you are always laughing at me!” “What do you mean?” he exclaimed, though knowing perfectly what she meant, and prepared for the answer which he immediately received, and the implied reproaches for his neglect, which he had expected. “But, mademoiselle, you have told me yourself of your engagement——” “Well, and what of that?” “I could not think of interfering with Major Stultz. I dare not monopolize——” “But, at least, you might speak to me sometimes.” “There might be danger for me were I to do so.” Crescenz looked immensely delighted and flattered, and her fingers moved faster than ever. “Is it not customary here to consider an engagement almost as binding as a marriage?” “I don’t know,” she replied, innocently; “I never was engaged until now. But,” she added, hastily, “but we are not yet affianced; that will not be until the day after our arrival in Munich.” “Then you are still at liberty to amuse yourself with others?” “Oh, yes.” “And I may talk to you without Major Stultz having any right to be jealous?” “Jealous!” she repeated, blushing. “I meant to say angry. Men at his time of life are difficult to manage; but it seems you get on famously with him, and have already forgotten all you said in the cloisters.” “What did I say?” she asked, looking up. “Merely something about being very unhappy, and so forth.” “What’s the use of being unhappy?” she asked, peevishly. “Mamma says I must marry some time or other; and such a man as Major Stultz is not to be found every day.”