It was Uncle Balthasar who thus interrupted them; he had come through the drawing-room without being perceived by the two friends, whose faces were turned towards the garden, and he now stepped out upon the veranda. Nodding pleasantly to his niece and raising his straw hat to her friend, he drew a chair up to the table at which they were sitting and took his place beside them. Uncle Balthasar was conscious of the possession of an important and interesting piece of news, and he comported himself accordingly. He did all that he could to assume a grave and dignified expression, succeeding but ill however, for the good-humoured smile would not resign its wonted place upon his face and shone through his affected gravity. He twirled his moustache until the two ends pointed directly upwards, then folded his arms and cast down his eyes reflectively, never stooping to pick up his gold-headed cane, usually his favourite toy, when it fell on the floor at his feet. The two girls exchanged a smiling glance of mutual understanding; they knew Uncle Balthasar, and that he was longing to impart to them some fresh piece of gossip. Eva, always ready to please him, opened the way for him by a question: "You come from the city, uncle? Is there any news? You look so solemnly important that we are dying of curiosity." Uncle Balthasar gave his moustache a fresh twirl and nodded with exceeding gravity. "There is bad news," he said, slowly and seriously; "yes, yes, my dear, very bad news, I can assure you. The thing occurred as I tell you. I had just drunk my usual can, and was sauntering home, when I met Count Waldheim, or rather he overtook me and tapped me on the shoulder. 'Good-morning, Herr Balthasar,' said he. 'Count, your most obedient servant,' said I. 'How is your niece to-day?' said he. 'Thanks for your kind inquiry; she is very well,' said I. And we went on talking most sociably." Here he paused and looked thoughtfully at the mosaic top of the table before him, pondering how to convey his news to his listeners in the most impressive manner. But Eva misunderstood him; she thought he had finished, and she said, laughing, "And is this your bad news, uncle?" Uncle Balthasar was quite offended by his niece's tone and words, and gave vent to this feeling with all the sharpness in voice and manner of which he was capable,--"I take your sneer extremely ill, my dear. I take the greatest pains to consider how best to spare your feelings in telling you what Count Waldheim has just told me of Herr von Heydeck, and you sneer at me. My dear, you are wrong, very wrong." The merry smile vanished from Eva's face at her uncle's mention of the name of Heydeck; she blushed and looked up at him eagerly. "Don't be angry with me, uncle dear," she begged, "I did not mean to offend you. Pray go on." "I am not angry," the kindly old man declared, "but you have quite put me out. I wanted to spare your feelings, and now I really do not know how to begin."