The count stood before me; and it seemed as if with his presence the atmosphere about me had become more oppressive, the light darkened. Dora rising, left him the chair opposite to me, and seated herself on the arm of mine. In her white gauze dress, and hair so becomingly arranged, she looked charming, as charming as a Dresden china figure; and the contrast between her bewitching get-up and the conversation she carried on was irresistibly funny. “I wager,” exclaimed the count, “that the thermometer is up to 28°.” “If it were 38°,” said she, “I should not feel it. I am never warm. I am the marble guest.” With an uninterested look the count murmured: “Yes?” “But also, I never feel the cold.” “Ha, ha! You are doing the original. I am not at all original; perfectly prosaic.” “Oh! I am very prosaic. Would you believe it? I take snuff.” “Indeed?” “I always carry my snuffbox about with me.” “With nothing in it?” She produced a tiny gold box, no larger than a florin, from her pocket. “There happens to be nothing in it, just to-day. Look, I have had a death’s head engraved on the lid; and I use death’s-head notepaper. I am always thinking of death. I believe I shall commit suicide one day.” The count looked aghast. “I always carry a dagger about with me.” “Do you really?” said the count. “So that I may plunge it into my heart the moment that tobacco, my one friend, has no more charms for me.” He smiled. He began to find her interesting; and as she now went on to tell of a curious old chest which had been discovered in a lumber room of her castle, he became thoroughly engrossed. Seizing an opportunity when they were absorbed in their conversation, I rose and stole away. As I turned, I saw Bernhard standing by me. “I have been looking for you ever so long,” said he. “One cannot stir a step in this crush.” And looking round, he called: “Schwarzburg!” And I, surprised and so delighted, as though it had been some dear, impatiently looked-for friend, exclaimed: “Is he here?” Now, be it said, Bernhard scolded me afterward, quite roundly, for my “Is he here?” But I have never been able to repent it. As I said it, I looked into a pair of eyes radiant with bliss, far too great for me ever to repent the words which called it forth. Baron Schwarzburg bowed so low before me, that the reverence thus expressed in his salutation almost abashed me. What had I done to arouse reverence? We had a long talk together, much too long, I was afterward told reproachfully. I cannot say what it was about; I was unconscious of the lapse of time, and of the presence of others. He was talking to me, and all that he said and his manner of saying it was pleasant to me, and worth listening to; seemed better and wiser than anything I had ever heard before, at once dear and true.