handsome man; yet for his sake Madame de Valincourt was willing to affront and disappoint admirers who were young, fashionable, and amusing. Sir Archibald was a man of property; and the Baron had gleaned from the shopkeepers of Badheim that the Valincourts were not paying their bills. He had seen Auguste, not only on this night, but constantly, a loser in private play with Potolski; and he knew that he frequently encountered losses at the public table. It was evident that Sir Archibald's funds were to be drawn upon it was for this that Sir Archibald was to be flattered. For every effect there must be a cause. D'Entzberg had reached such a point in his reflections when Ernest joined him. While he returned his salutation, he observed the paleness of his face; it showed lines about the mouth such as belong to older men ; and his eyes had an anxious and restless expression. He was clearly ill at ease; and the Baron derived a pleasure from this observation. He had received that very evening from Ernest's father the positive assurance that his son was engaged to the Countess Rosenberg, but he believed nevertheless that Ernest loved Ida; and he thought that he was struggling to free himself from the chain that bound him; while he felt certain that the intended marriage with the Countess was a scheme of old Wertheim's, with a view to court preferment and the aggrandizement of his family. As he was thinking of these things, Count Ernest addressed him.

'How hot the room is,' said he : 'too full.'

And still you see,' replied D'Entzberg, 'the most important arrival has not yet taken place. The Countess Rosenberg is not yet come.'

'She will be here in ten minutes' time,' said a voice near them: it was that of the young Hauptman Otto Brünfels.

'Indeed; and pray where have you heard this?' asked the Baron. 'Oh! at the Palace; I was there to-day.'

'No,' replied D'Entzberg, with vivacity, that dear child could not come. I called to see her just before I came here, but I could only see Captain Warburton, and he told me that she was suffering from a violent, severe, terrible, excruciating headache. Suffering agonies of pain, the darling child?

The Baron had not laid on his epithets in vain. When he turned towards Ernest he saw a movement of pain. This encouraged him to go on; and before Ernest could speak, he continued

That sweet, lovely Ida. I am, oh! so grieved. It was the ox-wagon yesterday that was too much for her; do you know, poor Captain Warburton was quite distressed? He is an honest young man, that; a fine manly fellow. We were not such great friends, I may tell you now, when we first met, but we are great friends to-day. You see, we have a subject of sympathy. And I like him for Ida's sake.'

'For Miss Conway's sake? questioned Ernest, in a voice that shook.

'Yes, certainly; for Miss Ida's sake. Do you not know that he loves Ida? It is a secret that is pretty well known; but you will be so kind as not to repeat that I have said so. Yes, it is a certain fact. But you need not say that I have said So, lest I lose my character for discretion. It is as clear, I may say, as our best noonday sun! And is it not natural? Think what opportunities he has! Why, they are always together.'

It had occurred to the Baronand he could not resist interference -that a little stir of jealousy might be useful, and as the Count turned away abruptly, he concluded that he had not missed his aim.

Florian Geier, walking slowly, and wiping his spectacles as he walked, now joined them. He had just arrived.

'You will be sorry,' said he to Ernest, to hear that your most dear sister is not able to come tonight. She is quite ill: she must

be very ill, for she could not see even me to-day. Madame Wolf tells me she is ill. I fear she must have caught cold in that damp tower.'

'What hardships were you all exposed to? Ernest asked. 'Miss Conway is ill too.'

Baron Entzberg listened and smiled; proud, though he had the pain of repressing his knowledge, to know more than they did. The difficulty of retention was relieved by the long-expected entrance of the Countess Rosenberg. There was a general stir as she came in, and she was received with the honours of royalty, although_not legitimately entitled to them. Otto Brünfels, with Ernest, followed in the movement that followed her, and Potolski also moved away from the piano to look at her; as he passed Baron Entzberg, a little note dropped from his pocket, which the Baron silently picked up.

Human nature is sometimes sorely tempted, and the Baron's was tempted now. He turned the note carefully round, and examined the handwriting of the address. It was certainly the Countess Dorothea's. To the Chevalier Potolski.' No other direction. 'It had, then, been either carried to him,' the Baron said to himself, or he had called for it: he had probably called for it. Had it been written this very day? He looked closely through his eyeglass, and from the colour of the ink he judged that it had. What might its contents be? What could they be? What might they not be? Happily for the Baron's integrity, Potolski just now strolled back again, he looked on the ground, he was evidently in search of his lost property, and D'Entzberg returned it to him intact, and with a bow as profound as the relief of his conscience. He felt himself fairly entitled to watch Potolski's countenance when he took back the note; and he saw him handle it with unction; saw him glance towards Ernest Wertheim as he did so; saw a smile of exultation on his lips, and said to himself, 'the Countess Dorothea is a lost woman.' But it was time to present

VOL. LXII, NO. CCCLXXII.

737

himself to the Countess Rosenberg, and he passed on. Rosalie de Rosenberg had the gifts of beauty and of grace, in addition to that of a high position at Court, and she was surrounded by adulators; she was the centre of a group of worshippers. D'Entzberg, when he drew near her, found Ernest Wertheim at his side, and at the same moment Madame de Valincourt, sweeping the floor with her gorgeous silks, advanced, to present Sir Archibald Conway to the Countess. She greeted him with much courtesy, and inquired for his daughter.

'I have,' said she, 'heard so much of the beauty and the accomplishments of Miss Conway.'

Sir Archibald lamented that his daughter had not been able to ac company him this evening. She was detained at home by indisposition.

Baron Entzberg was certain of an agitation in the demeanour of Ernest Wertheim at these words, and eagerly waited for more. Countess continued.

The

She wished to know Miss Conway. She hoped for her presence at a stag hunt that was to take place in the forest of N- a few days hence under her patronage, when a déjeuner would be given under the auspices of M. Dupuis, the GrandDuke having lent his Jagdhaus as the place of rendezvous and refresliment for the occasion. Sir Archibald accepted the invitation with many acknowledgments, and the Countess then turned to Ernest Wertheim to inquire after his sister Dorothea. Her illness was described as having proceeded from the fatigues of the same unlucky expedition in an ox-wagon which had so much tried Miss Conway's strength. The Countess protested against ox-wagons. Florian Geier came forward and deliberately and emphatically doubted the ladies' indisposition being fairly attributable to the ox-wagon. He rather believed the damp old tower to be in fault; it was ill-built, ill-contrived, and it was known throughout the country as the Devil's Tower; at great length he detailed the legend al

3 D

ready told in these pages, while Baron Entzberg stood by, smiling and bowing, and smiling again, hardly able to contain himself.

'A curious old legend that,' said Otto Brünfels, observing the mirth to which the Baron was moved.

6

'Ah! yes, that devil is always such an amusing fellow in a story-book,' replied the Baron. A very funny fellow indeed, as long as one does not meet him rather too closely. It is not pleasant to get into his debt; but it is pleasant to hear of his tricks.'

"The Professor makes a lively tale long and tedious,' said Otto. Was he in the Tower himself yesterday?'

'No,' answered the Baron, 'not he but another was there, much less tedious but much less honest. fell in there with the Chevalier Potolski.'

We

How D'Entzberg now longed to talk! How he longed, under the strictest injunctions of secresy, of course, to tell all that he knew, and to insinuate more. But he had promised Ida. Tell,' said the custom of his nature -'refrain,' said the prompting of a better affection; and he obeyed the better spirit, and withdrew himself from Otto's company. A hasty retreat was his only safety.

There was little left now to interest him; and when Ernest Wertheim soon afterwards left the company, the Baron accompanied him. A singularly clear beautiful moonlight assisted D'Entzberg's good conscience in the animation of his spirits, and as they passed along the promenade he poured a quantity of gossip into Ernest's ears. His companion was silent, and the face that had looked pale in Madame de Valincourt's brilliant room looked haggard now. When they reached the path leading to his house, he took the Baron's hand, pressed it for a moment warmly in his own, and affectionately wished him good night. The Baron's natural good humour led him to return this unwonted cordiality with a double fervour. He kept up a series of profound bows till the young Count was quite out of sight, and then he turned home

wards, holding a busy converse with his thoughts as he walked, concentrating his attention upon Ernest's heart, striving with all his might to penetrate to its core and to pluck from it its mystery.

CHAPTER VII.

The early morning found the Baron and his dog at the customary place of observation; and as he walked briskly up and down to the measure of a waltz tune from the melodious Bohemians, he met Carlotta Schultz.

'Where are you going to, Miss Carlotta?'

'Where Baron?

are you going to,

'I come from those dear Conways.'

"I go to those dear Conways.' 'Have you given your lesson this morning?

'Yes, to that good Captain Warburton. But, do you know, he scarcely understood me? He was in a dream, a deep dream; he wandered-he could not read the words. Ah! I know so well where his thoughts took him.'

'Indeed; did you tell him so?

'No; but to show him my sympathy, I told him my own history. Ah, Baron! I have known what it is to suffer in this way; you probably remember?"

'Yes, yes, excellent Miss Carlotta, I know. But your history belongs to the past, and this young man's is going on under our very

eyes.

Now, I confess to you that my sympathy with distant events is faint and dim like the events themselves. I have little value for what is called history, for I have so many doubts as to whether it is correctly handed down to us. I prefer watching life as it goes, and I am infinitely interested in the progress of our young friend's affections.'

'I admire Count Ernest Wertheim, but Captain Warburton is my pupil, and it is my opinion, you must know, that he may yet gain the day,' said Carlotta. 'Do

1860.]

you know anything authentic, dear excellent Baron, concerning the Countess Rosenberg; and is it, do you think, the news of this engagement that has so troubled Miss Ida?

'Great Heaven! you are indiscreet, Miss Carlotta; I think-but mind, Miss Carlotta, I have no right to think-that there are certain other causes at work; there is no one living but yourself to whom I would tell so much. We must be discreet and not too inquisitive, Miss Carlotta-not too inquisitive. Do you visit at the palace to-day?

"Yes, Baron; I have a new stitch in embroidery to explain to her Serene Highness's gouvernante, and I shall be there perhaps for half an hour.'

'So! Come afterwards, then, to me and tell anything you may chance to pick up; any little news; and we must assist each other to be cautious, for this is a most delicate matter, which must rest between you and me alone. Come, Arno! Arno!-come to see your friend, Miss Ida.'

Carlotta parted from him, and he chatted to his dog for the rest of the way. He moved with alacrity, he enjoyed the morning air and the sunshine that was breaking through the early mists, while he was making an effort at a similar proceeding in his own mind; and he had contrived a great many situations and a great many explanations for the principal characters in his story, before Captain Warburton's voice from the garden gate greeted him. The greeting was in the cordial tone of a man who was tired of his own company.

'Ah, Herr Baron! there you are -come in, come in. You will see, perhaps, no one but myself, but Í am heartily glad to see you. Come in.'

The invitation was complied with at once, and they entered the house together.

You must come to our apartments,' said Richard; 'Mrs. Warburton will be delighted to have your company at breakfast.'

'I have eat my breakfast, I zank,

739

up,' said the Baron; 'Arno and I we are early to eat; zen come our promenade, and zen begin ze business of ze day.'

Captain Warburton fixed his wide blue eyes upon the Baron's face, wondering what the business of the day consisted in.

'How goes all, zis morning?' asked the Baron.

'How goes all, is a comprehensive question, and not so very easy to answer. Must I take it in detail? Sir Archibald has been quizzing his sister and scolding his servants. Aunt Kitty has been crying. Miss Conway-Ida Conway-has not yet left her room, and Mrs. Warburton is there with her. It seems that when a party of English people go out in a German ox-wagon, they come back as if they had been out to battle and got licked; just about as happy, Baron, as the French the day after Waterloo.'

Ach! mein Gott! but you are comic, my Captain. You shall hear ze poor Herr Professor Geier defend our wagon, he shall do it brave, and so slow as brave. It is to ze Countess Rosalie last night he praise ze wagon so high, and he only blame ze old tower. Rosalie has not listened him all ze way; but she has order so many copies of ze treatise on ze Clarence dream.' 'Where was this?'

'It shall have been last night at ze réception Valincourt. Mon Dieu! but Count Ernest, he is all white; he shall be contract perhaps to ze Rosenberg Countess, but he shall not be to her (I speak confiding, to you alone), he shall not be to her, I believe, so very devout attach. I shall tell you, ze old Fazer Wertheim shall be a so shrewd fox. He shall enter so soft ze yard of ze poultry, and walk so grave, so demure; but his imagination shall be to swallow up for himself. His son shall be victim, shall perhaps make wiz him quarrel, but what for his honour!'

Captain Warburton made a movement that betrayed agitation, and his countenance underwent a change. He drew back his chair a few paces. Baron Entzberg followed his movement, and laying

his hand upon his arm, fixed his grey eyes upon him.

"If I understand you rightly, Baron,' said Richard, after a minute of silence, 'Count Ernest's honour and fortunes go together in this matter.'

The Baron replied with an impressive nod.

Captain Warburton on this began first to whistle and then to sing one of his favourite negro melodies. It was Cheer up, Sam, Don't let your spirits go down, and the Baron applauded with his usual vivacity. Emily Warburton entered just at the loudest moment of the song and the applause, disposed for gravity, but unable to resist a smile at the performance.

'You are merry,' said she. 'You have infected Richard with some of your own natural gaiety, Baron Entzberg; for I am sure I left him ten minutes ago in a very different mood.'

The Baron laughed and bowed, and inquired after zat so lovely, so adored Miss Ida.

Mrs. Warburton replied that Ida had a slight cold, and that Aunt Kitty made too much of it. She really thought too much of her niece.

Captain Warburton did not see that.

Emily added that Sir Archibald had as soon as he had swallowed his cup of coffee gone to the Valincourts.

'To game,' said the Baron. Emily started. 'Impossible! you to think it?'

What reason have

'For zis, to visit Auguste de Valincourt means to game; it is his alone occupation.'

'Yes; but Sir Archibald goes to visit madame.'

"To make his love, for zat is her sports.'

'You are perhaps mistaken, Baron Entzberg; Sir Archibald possibly goes there merely to get rid of his time.'

'Possibly; but he shall certainly get so rid of his money, and most like of his heart. I assure you I esteem ze Valincourts; zey are polite; zey are good society; but

nobody shall be ever indulge wiz zeir intimate and not pay for it in coin. Ze duty on zeir friendship shall be high; but zen, ze tax is levy wiz ze great amiability.'

That Félicie,' said Richard, 'is a laughing, silly innocent.'

'Not so silly,' said the Baron. 'Du Himmel! Mrs. Warburton, shall she like ze English titles of Lady Archibald Holybrook?'

She is seventeen,' said Emily; ' and Sir Archibald is past fifty.'

'Seventeen and fifty have been add before now,' said the Baron; 'in ordinary count make sixtyseven, but ze sum of zis addition shall be more considerate. Ach Gott, how I hate to scandal! how I hate so intrigue! but I shall not be astonish to see. But let me not any more interrupt you, Mrs. Warburton. Shall you zink zat dear Aunt Kitty shall see me?

'I am sure she would if she knew you were here. My maid shall announce you to her; you will find her in her breakfastroom.'

'Zousand zank, Mrs. Warburton. Lieber Hauptman, adieu,' and shaking hands cordially with Richard, he went down to the Conway suite of apartments without waiting for Emily Warburton's maid.

Aunt Kitty met him with kindness, but some depression showed itself through her attempts at cheerfulness. She spoke of the ways of Badheim with unwonted bitterness. Madame Stein had just been to her in tribulation, her husband had just staked and lost all the earnings of the last three months. It was dreadful to hear every day such miseries. It preyed upon her spirits, and she wished Sir Archibald would go. For who was safe?

The Baron rejected the idea: all would go well; he could not endure so much as the thought of their departure. Miss Ida was only just beginning to be known and appreciated. Her beauty, her divine voice, her grace, her charms, were making themselves recognised in society. She must remain and achieve a triumph. He believed