Are the raptures which we anticipate in marriage, or any other exploit, ever realised to their full extent? As a rule, surely not, and Von Steinberg was no exception. Hannah remained the same after marriage as she had been before, but the novelty of possession soon wore off, and when that occurred, Von Steinberg of all men, with his cool, calculating German temperament, was the most likely to see the spots upon the sun. However, they established themselves in Paris, and a few months of the gay city did wonders for his wife in the way of polish and manners. Naturally quick and cunning, and with a remarkable facility for the acquisition of languages, the Marchesa soon lost most of her vulgarisms and became quite _au fait_ with great people and their ways. The English who met her abroad, put all her eccentricities down to the fact that she was an Italian Marchesa, and the Parisians ascribed them to the misfortune of her having been born a Briton. But Hannah made the most of her opportunities. She went out whenever she was invited, mixing freely with foreigners, as well as her own countrymen, and in consequence, gathering knowledge and information wherever they were to be found. By this means, when, after a year’s residence abroad, Baron von Steinberg brought his wife back to England, if not still in love with her, he had ceased to be ashamed of her. But the same perplexity which had puzzled him in Ricardo’s time, still stirred in his brain. _What_ was it in Hannah that attracted him, spite of himself? Sometimes he felt ready to lay down his life for her--at others, he regarded her with disfavour, almost with repugnance! But as the mistress of his house--the dispenser of his hospitality--she was perfect. She had a courteous and gracious manner, which she extended equally to peer and peasant, and which made strangers, who had never seen another side to her character, consider her the most charming hostess under the sun. Whilst when at other moments she spoke her mind freely--far too freely--concerning people and their actions, her visitors still ascribed it to her genuineness and total disregard of what the world might say, or think. What astonished Von Steinberg more than anything else, was the complacency with which she accepted the fact of his wealth, and the nonchalance with which she treated his pictures, and statues, and hot-house flowers. She took everything that he gave her, as if she had been used to it all her life--she accepted it from him graciously, but she was not overwhelmed with gratitude for his generosity. He would not have had her betray her lowly birth and breeding, by expressing ignorance of such luxuries, but it amazed him, all the same.