"I shall never believe that Cäcilie belongs to those everyday womanish natures; but if she be really in earnest with this Herr von Wegen, I shall know how to console myself. For a rejected lover, there is often nothing more consolatory than the thought of his successor, for if the latter belongs to tin soldiers, a man knows, too, in which box he must pack his beloved one, and that he has been much mistaken if he counted her amongst living ones. An error is always painful, but it is a pleasure to find it out; the table must be entirely cleared and laid again from the beginning." "Do not forget that Wegen is my friend," said Blanden, seriously. "As a friend, he may possess great merits. I appreciate his self-sacrificing zeal; but in a girl, who can be in love with him, I have been mistaken, and that is my affair. Now farewell, I must go into the sea! They are tuning the fiddles over there already. I shall get out of the way of that _dilettante_ howling to-day." While Kuhl walked, towards the bathing-place, Blanden went in search of his betrothed. However, the old Regierungsrath, whose countenance was now filled with unwonted sunshine, informed him that Eva had begged to be allowed to be quite alone that evening. There were evenings on which she loved to indulge her thoughts in solitude, and she hoped her _fiancé_ would grant her that privilege once more on the evening before her betrothal. Kalzow declared himself ready to compensate the lonely lover with a game of _ombre_, at which the Kreisgerichtsrath would assist, and even a "dummy" was provided, if he should appear to be necessary. The only young man in Kuhren available, was one who neither sang nor played upon any instrument, the talented architect, who, on that evening, would certainly have to sit as "dummy" at all the concert rehearsals. Blanden assented unwillingly; he was full of ardent yearning for his betrothed; the wish to see her, to speak to her, being ungratified, became all the keener in him. How pale appeared the picture that his imagination sketched of the beautiful girl. It alarmed him that the outlines sometimes seemed to become confused, and out of that dimness another picture gazed towards him, which had once been dear to his heart. He sat down to _ombre_, but his thoughts were absent. He held the most beautiful _soli_ in his hand and forgot to declare them. Close by, the noisy orchestral rehearsal was in full swing. These mangled pieces of music, which Müller von Stallupönen's zeal tore into single bars, appeared like mockery to him; these discordant, disconnected instruments, moved _en echelon_ when they ought to march in line. But yet this rehearsal was arranged to prepare a performance in his honour, and how dreadful the dissonances that were thus disclosed.