A vague feeling of shyness kept him at a distance from the castle. He much preferred to get his friend out into the fields and plantations where they would ride silently side by side. But while they were trying, out of doors, to enjoy once more the old communion of interests, which had so long been sacrificed, Felicitas, hidden behind the curtains of one of the balcony windows, cast wistful eyes after them. She had no just cause for complaining of Leo. He scarcely ever omitted at the end of his visits to seek a short interview with her. And when time would not allow of this courtesy, she received through Ulrich his greetings and apologies. His manner towards her was uniformly natural and kind. There was something in it of brotherly camaraderie, half respectful, half facetious; and the pressure of his hand, and the expression in his eyes, betokened sincere and warm friendship. In short--she ought to have been content. Nevertheless it dispirited and hurt her that no look or syllable of his ever recalled what she had once been to him. It would seem as if not the slightest trace had been left in his memory of that mad, blissful time, vivid pictures of which lived on in hers; for despite all pain, she could not banish them. What she had done for him was in vain if he had thus erased everything from his mind, and made it blank to the past. She cried a good deal in these days, declared that her life had been a failure, and revelled in old memories, which, whether painful or sweet, filled her soul with bitterness. She looked back and saw herself from earliest childhood, a burden to unknown relations, parentless and homeless: an adventuress through circumstance on the look-out for lucky chances. She had never known her mother; her father, an impecunious officer, had been embittered by an unsuccessful career, and out of disappointment at his discharge, had taken his own life. From his grave-side she had been taken by an old-maidish aunt to her institution, where for three years she had gazed with yearning through a barred window on the forbidden street. Then other relations sent her to a fashionable Belgian school, where the pious sisters instructed her in the art of dancing and embroidery, and inculcated coquetry; and next, by one of those turns of fate which characterised the years of her early girlhood, she found herself transported to the solitude of a Polish magnate's estate. From there, after various stages of transition and misery, she passed into the circle of Halewitz, which, in spite of several efforts to get away from it--for she dearly loved change--she was destined to take root in. After all, it was the only place where she was not forcibly reminded of her helplessness and homelessness; and, what was more, where her bewitching personality was allowed to unfold itself according to her sovereign will.