"Oh! how I admire these bold feats of horsemanship!" exclaimed Alma, opening her eyes very wide to express her enthusiasm. "Sit down here beside me, dear Herr Brandow." She had forgotten the arrangement she had made for Gotthold's reception, and as she pushed the back of the chair with her outstretched hand, the picture slipped down and fell on the floor. Ottilie, who saw it, uttered a loud exclamation. Brandow sprang forward to raise it, but had scarcely cast a glance at it, when he dropped it from his hands with a low cry. "My poor picture!" exclaimed Ottilie. "I beg ten thousand pardons," said Brandow. "I see that when a man has ridden a mile and a half in twenty-five minutes, he is not quite master of his limbs." In fact, he trembled violently as he again took the picture in his hands; nay, he seemed to find it difficult to stand. Ottilie, who noticed it, at last invited him to sit down. "Shall I not put the picture away first?" asked Brandow. "On no account!" exclaimed Alma. "I can't part with it, and to you, my dear friend, it must have a double interest. Just see in what bold relief these beeches stand in the foreground. How easily the eye glides over the fields in the centre and lingers in refreshing repose, ere it wanders longingly towards the dim blue horizon of the sea on the right, or turns with delight to the brown moor on the left." "Oh! certainly, certainly," said Brandow, without looking at the picture; "it is intended for Dollan, isn't it?" "Intended for Dollan!" exclaimed Ottilie, "why, Herr Brandow, you wanted to buy it yourself. Don't you remember the time when your wife and I were standing before the picture and you came up?" "Oh! certainly, certainly," said Brandow. "I would like to bet that the gentlemen are on that brown moor now," said Alma. "Certainly; to be sure," replied Brandow. "Impossible!" exclaimed Ottilie, "unless some accident has happened to the carriage, which we do not want to fear." "Certainly, oh! certainly not," said Brandow, wiping the cold perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief. "You are faint, Herr Brandow; let me offer you some refreshments," said Ottilie, ringing the bell, and rising to give her orders to the maid-servant, who instantly entered. At the same moment Alma leaned forward, and holding out her hand to Brandow, whispered, "My dear friend, how glad I am to see you! What have you done to Hugo? I should think it would be for the interest of us all that you should remain good friends." Brandow took the little white hand, and hastily raised it to his lips. "Oh! certainly, certainly, my beautiful friend," he replied, "that is the very reason I am here; it is really nothing at all. I was a little excited by--I--oh! my dear madam, why do you trouble yourself? A glass of wine, if you insist upon it, but nothing else, I beg of you, nothing else."