"I should, of course, always find a sale for such goods," said the dealer, "yet may I ask your name?" Blanden told his name and that of his castle. The Italian wrote both down; a triumphant expression lay in the slight smile around the corners of his mouth, in his piercing glances; he himself gave his card, upon which stood the name, Carlo Baluzzi, of Wilna. Blanden's thoughts meanwhile lingered with his campanula: "A flower-fairy she appeared to me," thought he to himself; "the original child of Nature! For me she shall become an amber-nymph! All my past life shall remain deeply buried beneath the high, rising tide; but its tears shall be made into beads which shall adorn her." In the meantime the storm without had passed away, but the darkness of the tempest's clouds had been succeeded by the darkness of the evening. The fishermen returned to their work; the landlady lighted a few dripping tallow candles; Baluzzi's eye rested upon the tubs, that not a piece which he had bought so dearly might be lost to him. Blanden took leave; notwithstanding the well-meaning coal-stove, his coat was wet through and through, but no choice remained to him. "Farewell, Herr von Blanden," said the Italian, with sharp emphasis. "I am pleased to have renewed my acquaintance with you." "Renewed?" asked Blanden, astonished. "Yes, my Herr." "And where have you seen me?" "On Lago Maggiore, two years ago." "I do not recollect--" "Nor is it possible! The pleasure was entirely on my side! You lived then in such sunshine of bliss that you did not notice the two shadows in the background, which hastened quickly past you." Blanden, while he walked shiveringly along through the chilly evening air, meditated vainly what connection there could have been between Baluzzi and himself during his stay by Lago Maggiore. What did those peculiar looks signify, which he suddenly assumed? What should the remarkable emphasis mean which he gave to his words--yes, the enmity which gleamed in his features--in his whole demeanour? After mature reflection, Blanden came to the conclusion that he must have been mistaken if he sought to ascribe any special importance to a chance meeting. But when Blanden had left the room, the Italian rubbed his hands together with scornful satisfaction. "Now I, too, shall learn," said he to himself, "what has become of her, and my old receipts will flow in once more." CHAPTER VI. ON LAND AND SEA. A sparkling, dewy morning made Warnicken, that jewel of the Samland coast, glisten with double brilliancy. Blanden stood beneath the oaks of the precipitous declivity of the Fuchs-spitze. Impatiently he followed the slowly rising course of the sun and the shadows gradually moving aside.