She is older than I am, and is considered to be very clever and well read. When quite a little girl, an aunt, who was a woman of learning, bequeathed her whole library to her, and she was allowed to have it arranged in her own room; her parents letting her have her own way in everything. Thus at thirteen there was she deep in the study of Humboldt’s “Cosmos,” and Strauss’ “Life of Jesus.” She has explained whole pages of this latter to me, but not very clearly; I never could understand it. Dora used often to threaten that, if I did not know how to value the count better, she would get him away from me. And I, only too ready, would reply: “Take him, by all means; you could not please me better.” For a long time she thought I was only joking. “Do you know,” she said, “that the Taxens have a prince’s crown in their coat of arms?” “How could one fail to know it?” “And have you not thought how well your monogram will look with a crown over it?” I burst into a fit of laughter. “Is that the result of studying Humboldt and Strauss at thirteen, to make you such a baby at twenty?” “Oh, that is quite another thing. I know what is due to the world. The greatest men of learning attach value to position, and would be only too glad to be admitted into princely salons, but as they are so prosy and pedantic----” Indignant at her silly chatter, I cried: “You ought to be ashamed to talk such rubbish. Pray what do you know about learned men: you have never even seen one!” “Nor you, either.” “No, nor anyone of us, because they do not frequent society, nor have the slightest wish to do so. But you are talking about what you do not understand. You prate about knowledge of the world, and see no further than your own little circle. That is all you think about!” She was piqued. She is as much accustomed to be admired as the count, and can as little as he endure to be contradicted. Our passage of arms had been carried on before a room full of my friends, of both sexes, to their great delectation. Dora was not a favorite among her girl friends, and they chuckled audibly at my onslaught. “You may be as contemptuous as you please,” said Dora angrily, but in so low a voice that only I heard. “You will see the consequences of having made an enemy of me,” with a meaning look toward the door, by which the count was just then entering. I understood her, and answered in an equally low voice: “If you only succeed in what you mean, you will make me a friend for life.” “Very well, I accept your challenge!” she responded, little knowing how I was silently rejoicing in her determination, and wishing it all speed.