The Initials: A Story of Modern Life

Madame Rosenberg “wondered” unceasingly, the next morning, why Crescenz was not well enough to appear at breakfast. Zedwitz looked at Hamilton, and Hamilton looked at Zedwitz, and then they both looked at Hildegarde, whose eyes were fixed on the ground, leaving nothing but the long eyelashes, which rested on her cheek, visible. About the corners of her mouth played an expression which it was impossible to define; but it seemed that Zedwitz was able to interpret it to his own advantage, for he seated himself beside her, and began a conversation in the very easiest manner possible. Major Stultz was fully occupied with a monstrous edition of a meerschaum pipe, and Hamilton turned to Madame Rosenberg, who showed every disposition to be friendly and confidential. From sundry winks and witticisms which she exchanged with Major Stultz, Hamilton perceived that she wished to excite his curiosity, and longed to tell him of Crescenz’s engagement. But he pretended stupidity, and carefully avoided all leading questions. Suddenly it occurred to him to propose a party to the Chiem Lake the next day, and he was immediately warmly seconded by Zedwitz. Major Stultz took his pipe from his mouth to say that the weather was so warm they might expect a thunder-storm, which on that lake would be dangerous. Madame Rosenberg, with a few wise nods, observed that, “under existing circumstances,” she thought that Crescenz might be allowed a little amusement, and the party was decided upon. Hamilton took Zedwitz aside, and asked him if he could not persuade his mother and sister to join them; told him, however, at the same time, what had been said about the Z—’s.

“My dear fellow,” was his answer, “the Z—’s are just the people who would have joined the party at once; she likes being in all sorts of company, and he amuses himself everywhere; but nothing in the world would induce my mother or sister to go with these people.”

“These people! Why, are they not respectable?”

“Respectable! Oh, perfectly. Come, don’t play innocence, and force me to explain what you understand as well as I do. The two girls are treasures, and would be presentable anywhere, if they had but a ‘Von’ before their name; but their step-mother is vulgarity personified, and Major Stultz, you know, was a common soldier!”

“I know nothing at all about Major Stultz, excepting that he is a red-faced, jolly-looking, elderly man. He must have distinguished himself during the war, or he could not have obtained his present rank.”

“Yes, his personal bravery is undoubted; he was also an excellent officer——covered with wounds—made the campaign in Russia, and was one of the few Bavarians who returned home to relate the horrors of the retreat. I advise you, however, to avoid the subject when he is present, as he is rather diffuse about it. His brother, a Nuremburger tradesman, died about six months ago, and left him a good deal of money; his wounds afforded him a good excuse for retiring from the service and applying for a pension. And he told me honestly, that he has been looking for a wife ever since, as he does not know what to do with himself.”

“The idea of taking Hildegarde to wife, in order to dispel ennui, was a proof of great discernment,” observed Hamilton, ironically.

“Rather say, most unpardonable effrontery,” replied Zedwitz, growing very red.

“A man of his discrimination,” continued Hamilton, provokingly, “must be aware that Crescenz is but a bad substitute for her sister; Hildegarde, too, would have suited him much better; she would have kept him in order by——” Here he waved his hand significantly.

“How you harp on that subject, Hamilton!”

“I shall never mention it again if it distresses you. I was really not aware——”

“Pshaw!” he exclaimed, impatiently, turning away.

“As to Crescenz, poor girl,” continued Hamilton, “I really pity her. Such a fearful difference of age and person makes it an odious sacrifice!”

“Not so much as you think, perhaps,” said Zedwitz, quietly; “Stultz is a good-hearted man, and will let her do whatever she pleases. You will see how soon she will be satisfied with her lot in life! Perhaps even before her marriage!”

“It is at least to be hoped so,” observed Hamilton, dryly.

“The trousseau will soon occupy her mind completely, and while exhibiting it to her friends and receiving their congratulations, she will learn to like the cause of all the preparations, and end, perhaps, by fancying herself a singularly fortunate person!”

Crescenz entered the garden while they were speaking, and blushed deeply as she passed them. Hamilton felt the blood mount to his temples, and turned away that Zedwitz might not observe it.

“This is the beginning of the comedy,” cried the latter, after a moment’s pause, touching Hamilton’s arm to make him look round. He turned, and, through the foliage of the arbour, saw Major Stultz clasping a massive gold bracelet on Crescenz’s arm. She appeared for a moment embarrassed and shy; then played with a padlock or heart, or some such thing which dangled from the bracelet, and finally she looked up at him and smiled.

“She is a thorough-bred coquette!” exclaimed Hamilton, indignantly. “Zedwitz, I throw down the gauntlet, and enter the list as your rival. I prefer running the chance of occasional chastisement from the fair hand of Hildegarde, to having anything more to do with such a silly, vain creature as this Crescenz seems to be.”

“Seems to be, Hamilton—and only seems. The circumstances must also be taken into consideration. She must marry this Stultz, whether she like him or not. That he is not the ideal of a girl of her age, one can easily imagine. He suspects this, perhaps, and wisely commences by giving her a handsome present. That is probably the first gold bracelet she has ever had clasped on her arm. She is very young—childish, if you will—but neither silly nor very vain for feeling a little pleasure, and honestly showing what she feels. I see nothing reprehensible in her conduct.”

“Had you but heard her last night telling me how unhappy she was!”

Zedwitz shrugged his shoulders.

“How she talked of his forty-six years, and declared her hatred of red-faced men!”

Zedwitz laughed.

“She mentioned, also, that her sister had the same antipathy.”

“Sorry to hear it,” cried Zedwitz, picking up a handful of flat pebbles and pitching them one by one with considerable skill into the lake, watching them skimming along the surface, with an interest that half provoked Hamilton.

“You seem to have a thorough contempt for my rivalship by daylight.”

“What do you mean? Did you not tell me last night that Crescenz suited you exactly, as you only wished to amuse yourself for a time?”

“Such were my intentions. May I ask what were yours? Or rather, what are yours?”

“Oh, certainly you may ask, but you must forgive my not answering you, as I have not the most remote idea what I may be induced to do. I shall most probably be guided altogether by circumstances.”

He put an end to the conversation by walking towards the arbour, where the arrangements for the next day’s party were soon made—Major Stultz not venturing, before Crescenz, to say a word about storm or danger.

They left Seon at a very early hour the next morning in two carriages. Madame Rosenberg, as usual, took her three boys with her, in order, as she said, to keep them out of mischief. Fritz, the eldest, on finding himself separated from her, immediately found amusement in climbing from the carriage to the box, and from the box into the carriage again, causing Hildegarde, who had charge of him, such anxiety lest he should fall on the wheel that she could scarcely remain a moment quiet. Zedwitz assisted her so sedulously that he did not perceive an attack which Gustle directly commenced on the buttons of his coat with a blunt penknife; and Hamilton, alone unoccupied, half listened to the desultory conversation of his companions, while admiring in silence the scenery, than which nothing could be more beautiful to an English eye. The fine old trees in the domain-like meadows which were bounded by extensive woods; the splendid lake, appearing at intervals through openings which seemed made as if to show to advantage its extent, and the magnificent range of mountains beyond. The rippling of the water on the sandy shore brought at last such a crowd of home-recollections to his mind that he leaned back, forgetful of all around him; Fritz’s irritating gymnastics, Gustle’s mischievous pertinacity, Hildegarde’s angelic face, and Zedwitz’s amusingly enamoured expression of countenance! The sudden stopping of the carriage made him once more alive to everything going on about him. The little maneuvres of Madame Rosenberg to place Major Stultz near Crescenz; the determination with which she insisted on Hildegarde’s sitting between two of her brothers; the third she gave in charge to Zedwitz, and Hamilton had the honour of being reserved for herself.

Hildegarde and Crescenz were, for the first time in their lives, in a boat, and neither of them was at her ease. Crescenz exhibited her fear by various little half-suppressed screams, sometimes catching the side of the boat, sometimes the arm of Major Stultz. Hildegarde sat perfectly quiet, not venturing to look to the right or left, her colour varying with every movement of her unruly neighbours, who amused themselves by adding to the fears of their sisters by balancing the boat from side to side.

They landed first on the Frauen Insel (Woman’s Island), hoping to be allowed to see the nunnery. While waiting for the necessary permission to enter, they wandered through the churchyard and into the church.

On the appearance of a tall, haggard, austere-looking man, in the long garment of a priest, Zedwitz advanced towards him and begged admittance for the ladies, the scowling countenance convincing him at once that for him there was no chance whatever. He was volubly seconded by Madame Rosenberg, who, with that want of tact not unusual on the part of uneducated women, actually attempted to be jocular with the awful looking personage; but neither the polished address of Zedwitz nor the jocularity of Madame Rosenberg could prevail. He refused without ceremony, and in very few words told them that without bringing a permission from the Ordinariat in Munich they could not be admitted; the entrance of strangers disturbed the nuns, and was against the rules of the convent.

They turned away, Crescenz observing timidly that she would not like to be a nun where there was such a severe confessor.

“I hope you have no thoughts of being a nun anywhere,” observed the Major.

“I should have no objection to such a confessor,” said Hildegarde; “I rather prefer one who has something imposing in his appearance; it gives me the idea that he is above the weaknesses of human nature.”

“What nonsense you talk, Hildegarde!” cried Madame Rosenberg, with evident irritation. “It is only a spirit of contradiction which makes you pretend to admire a man who has been so disagreeable and uncivil to us all.”

Hildegarde walked more slowly, and Zedwitz, who had been lingering behind, immediately joined her.

“So you like stern-looking men!” he observed, in a low voice.

“I said I liked a confessor who had something imposing in his manner.”

“Oh! for a confessor merely? But for a friend, a lover, or a husband, you prefer something quite different, don’t you?”

“Perhaps I should,” she answered carelessly.

“Or, perhaps,” said Hamilton, “you think of entering the nunnery here out of pure admiration for that long, gaunt man! There is no accounting for taste.”

“I do not intend to take the veil until you have become a monk.”

“When I become a monk it will not be here; I shall choose a more hospitable place and jolly companions, such as one generally reads of. The incivility of your friend with the austere countenance has greatly disgusted me.”

The buildings on the other island were very extensive. The church had been turned into a brew-house, and not long after its desecration it was burned. “A very proper judgment,” as Madame Rosenberg observed, glancing meaningly towards Zedwitz. Handsome broad marble stairs led to the upper apartments, of which a few have been lately modernized. The carved wood on the doors of the cells and the picture-frames in the refectory were admirable.

“Altogether,” said Hamilton, looking out of one of the windows across the lake, “altogether a place where one could spend a fortnight very agreeably with a gay party.”

“Or with Hildegarde and her sister,” said Zedwitz, in a low voice.

“If Crescenz were not so insipid, with all her prettiness.”

They adjourned to the garden and dined under the trees. Hamilton studiously avoided Crescenz’s vicinity, although he saw she was half disposed to be angry at his neglect. She endeavoured, in her simplicity, to pique him by listening with affected complaisance to Major Stultz’s commonplace remarks. She laughed, and encouraged him to give her brothers beer when her mother was not watching them. This childish conduct, perhaps, Hamilton would have forgotten, had not the consequences been somewhat remarkable. The boys, unaccustomed to drink anything but water or milk, soon became almost intoxicated, and on their way to the boat Fritz, a good-humoured, handsome boy, swaggered, sang, and shouted most boisterously; Gustle became quarrelsome, and pinched and pummelled him unmercifully. It was in vain Madame Rosenberg scolded and threatened punishment; they had not left the shore more than ten minutes when a regular scuffle took place; Gustle flung Fritz’s cap into the water, and Fritz, merely taking time to knock down the offender, leaned over the side of the boat, snapped at his cap, and went heels over head into the lake! The screams of the ladies were beyond all conception piercing; Zedwitz, with an exclamation of horror, and regretting that he could not swim, leaned anxiously and with outstretched arms over the side of the boat. Madame Rosenberg started up and, with clasped hands, called for help in a voice of agony.

The danger was imminent. Hamilton sprang into the water and caught the boy, as he rose for the second time, at some distance from the boat; he was still conscious, and grasped his preserver’s arm manfully. The scene which ensued it is impossible to describe. Gustle was boxed, and Fritz was kissed, and Hamilton was thanked and blessed alternately. He declined entering the boat again, but partly held it and partly swam to the shore, where he heard with some surprise that the fishers who had rowed them, although they had spent half their lives on the lake, could not swim, so that had he not been there Fritz would inevitably have been drowned.

From the commencement of his acquaintance with Madame Rosenberg, she had been disposed to like him; but from this event may be dated a sort of implicit reliance on her part which afterwards caused him occasional qualms of conscience, as he felt that he was trusted sometimes beyond his deserts.

Fritz’s clothes were dried at the inn. Hamilton’s, however, not being composed of such light materials, he was obliged to leave there, and borrow whatever he could get from an obliging old peasant, who was profuse in the offers of his wardrobe. It was amusing to see him in the brown trousers, a “world too wide,” intended to be long, but which, after tugs innumerable, could only be persuaded to half conceal the calves of his legs, whose proportions were rendered somewhat doubtful by the capacious gray worsted stockings in which they were enveloped; a long waistcoat of red cloth, and a remarkably short-waisted, long-tailed coat, in which a second edition of himself could have found place. These garments altogether formed a costume more original than becoming. Crescenz and Major Stultz laughed unrestrainedly; Madame Rosenberg repeated her thanks with a suppressed smile; but Hildegarde, without speaking, made a place for him beside her in the carriage, of which he incontinently took possession. He imagined that she spoke more to him than to Zedwitz on their way home.

Crescenz’s efforts to bring Hamilton back to his allegiance were, for some days, as unremitting as they were various. She would never have succeeded had Hildegarde been one jot less quarrelsome; but either from a naturally irritable temper, or some unaccountable antipathy on her part to Hamilton, they never spoke to each other without saying as many disagreeable things as possible. Hamilton felt that she disliked him and misinterpreted his every word and action, and this conviction, and the fear that she might discover how much he had begun to admire her, made him, perhaps, ready to meet her more than half way when she was disposed for battle. Their conversation generally began civilly on his part, but something in her manner, or some unnecessarily sharp answer, was sure to provoke an ironical remark and a slighting gesture, which invariably led to the commencement of hostilities.

It was after one of these engagements, in which she had exhibited more than usual vehemence, and he had excelled himself in the art of tormenting, that he found Crescenz alone in the garden. The contrast was irresistible for the moment; it was calm and sunshine after a storm! There she sat, busily employed knitting a stocking, which, from its dimensions, might probably be intended for Major Stultz! Her fingers and elbows moved with a rapidity perfectly inconceivable; and as she had for the last four-and-twenty hours been enacting the sentimental and offended, he was allowed to admire her pretty face uninterruptedly as long as he chose, her heightened colour all the time convincing him that she knew he was looking at her. After a few significant coughs, which remained unnoticed, he turned to go away. She looked up and—sighed. This he imagined to be a sort of encouragement; perhaps it was intended for such, as the look which accompanied the sigh was reproachful. He seated himself beside her, while he admired the rapidity with which her work proceeded. The praises were unheeded.

“And who is the happy person destined to wear this?” he asked, playing with the huge piece of work.

“That cannot in any way interest you,” she answered stiffly; but she sighed again.

“Everything concerning you interests me; from the time I first saw you eating roast chicken even to the present moment——”

“You have an odd way of showing your interest, then. Hildegarde says you are always laughing at me!”

“What do you mean?” he exclaimed, though knowing perfectly what she meant, and prepared for the answer which he immediately received, and the implied reproaches for his neglect, which he had expected.

“But, mademoiselle, you have told me yourself of your engagement——”

“Well, and what of that?”

“I could not think of interfering with Major Stultz. I dare not monopolize——”

“But, at least, you might speak to me sometimes.”

“There might be danger for me were I to do so.”

Crescenz looked immensely delighted and flattered, and her fingers moved faster than ever.

“Is it not customary here to consider an engagement almost as binding as a marriage?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, innocently; “I never was engaged until now. But,” she added, hastily, “but we are not yet affianced; that will not be until the day after our arrival in Munich.”

“Then you are still at liberty to amuse yourself with others?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And I may talk to you without Major Stultz having any right to be jealous?”

“Jealous!” she repeated, blushing.

“I meant to say angry. Men at his time of life are difficult to manage; but it seems you get on famously with him, and have already forgotten all you said in the cloisters.”

“What did I say?” she asked, looking up.

“Merely something about being very unhappy, and so forth.”

“What’s the use of being unhappy?” she asked, peevishly. “Mamma says I must marry some time or other; and such a man as Major Stultz is not to be found every day.”

“I know not which is most to be admired—your astounding resignation or her excellent reasoning.”

She looked at him for a moment, and then having satisfied herself that he was not laughing, said, confidingly—

“Mamma has been very liberal, and promises me everything in fifties and hundreds.”

“Fifties and hundreds!” repeated Hamilton.

“The smalls in hundreds—the large in fifties.”

“You will undoubtedly think me very stupid, but I have not the most remote idea of what you mean.”

“I am to get a trousseau such as mamma herself had; all the smaller things, such as pillow-cases, towels, and stockings, a hundred of each! Table-cloths, and such things, in fifties.”

“Ha! That must naturally have made you think quite differently of Major Stultz!”

Again she looked at him inquiringly.

“No; it did not make me think differently of him. But what can I do?”

“You cannot do better than try to like him as fast as possible.”

“If he had only a von before his name!” she observed sorrowfully.

“Why, what difference would that make?”

“If he were noble, I should not mind the difference of age. My mamma was a countess!” she added, proudly.

“Then, why not wish him to be a count at once?”

“No; that I could not expect, as I have no fortune, and papa is not a von.”

“I should like to know the exact meaning of this von.”

“It is the first grade of nobility; then comes ritter or chevalier; then baron, count, prince, duke. I wonder how mamma could have married any one who was not a count or baron; but then papa was so very handsome, and that makes a great difference!”

“Most undoubtedly! A handsome face is a good letter of recommendation.”

“Are you noble?” she asked, abruptly.

“I have no von before my name,” answered Hamilton, laughing.

“Are you not count or baron?”

“Neither.”

“So you are only Mr. Hameeltone?”

“Only Mr. Alfred Hamilton.”

He perceived that he had fallen deeply in her estimation, and—he fell in his own, a few minutes afterwards, by a fruitless attempt which he made to explain to her the nature of the English peerage, and which he ended by the assurance that had he been born in Germany, where every member of a family inherits the paternal title, he should undoubtedly have been a baron or a count. She did not understand him; and he was glad of it, for he felt keenly the absurdity of his oration, and the silly boast contained in the concluding remark. Where the noblesse is so extensive as in Germany, and where so many members of it are so extremely poor, one would naturally think it would fall in some degree into disrepute, or, at least, that it would be regarded with indifference. This is, however, by no means the case; and there is no doubt that, had her red-faced major been a count or baron, she would have willingly overlooked the other discrepancies. Even a von before his name would have been a consolation, when combined with the happiness of having had a countess for her mother. These were Hamilton’s thoughts during a pause in the conversation, and he partly continued to think aloud, when he asked—

“Was she handsome?”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

“I don’t know—I cannot remember her.”

“Are you—is your sister like her?”

“Hildegarde is very like papa, and people say I am very like Hildegarde.”

“You are extremely like each other, especially at first sight.”

“Oh, I know that Hildegarde is a great deal handsomer than I am!”

This was a fact, and Hamilton was puzzled for an answer, when she added, after a pause—

“But Major Stultz says I am much more lovable than she is!”

“Major Stultz is a man of discrimination,” said Hamilton, looking around him listlessly.

“He says, too, we shall be very happy when we are married!”

“I hope so, most sincerely.”

“He gave me a great deal of good advice the day we were at Chiem See.”

“Indeed! On what subject?”

“He said it was very foolish to trust very young men—that they were very faithless, and good for nothing.”

“All! Did he say all?” cried Hamilton, in a tone of mock deprecation.

“Yes, all,” she answered, petulantly. “He advised me neither to trust them in words nor actions!”

“What extraordinary knowledge of the world he must have! Altogether a remarkable person!”

“You are laughing at me—or—at him.”

“Laughing! What an idea! Only look at me for a moment, and you will be convinced of the contrary.”

And she did look at him, and her eyes filled with tears as they met the calm, unembarrassed gaze of his. A heavy step on the gravel-walk announced the approach of someone, and on turning round they perceived Major Stultz blowing the ashes out of his meerschaum pipe, as he leisurely walked towards a bank in the garden. Crescenz started as if she had been detected committing a crime, and, with heightened colour, rose to join him.

“I thought you said you were at liberty to talk to me as much as you please,” observed Hamilton, ironically.

“And so I am,” she replied, seating herself again, while she glanced furtively towards her future husband. “What have you got to say to me?”

“Oh, a—what were you talking about? Major Stultz’s excellent advice, was it not? I should really like to hear all that he said to you, for I can hardly think he spent his whole time in railing at men who have the good fortune to be a score of years younger than he is.”

“Oh, we spoke of other things also.”

“It would have been very odd if you had not.”

“We—spoke—of love!”

“Very naturally. I really should like to know the opinion of such a man as Major Stultz on so important a subject.”

“He said,” she began with a sigh, “he said that people, especially women, seldom had the good fortune to marry their first love.”

“Rather a trite observation, and, on his part, unnecessary. Surely, if any man may hope to be the object of a first love, it is Major Stultz! You have only left school a few months—are not yet sixteen years old. What could he mean by talking to you about first love?”

She was silent.

“Perhaps it was as a preliminary to his confessions. Did he give you a history of his loves? Have they been very numerous?”

“No,” she exclaimed, almost angrily; “he told me, on the contrary, that I was the first person he had ever wished to marry.”

“Did you remind him of his proposal to your sister?”

This contradiction to his words seemed to have entirely escaped her memory; she coloured violently, and the ready tears again prepared to flow. Hamilton felt that he was amusing himself unpardonably at the poor girl’s expense, teasing her beyond what she could bear, and was preparing to set all to rights again by playing a little sentiment, when she arose precipitately, and with such ill-concealed annoyance, to walk towards Major Stultz, that instead of picking up her large ball of thread, she drew it rashly after her, jerking it over the flower-beds, and entangling it so effectually in a rose-bush as she moved quickly on, that Hamilton ran to her assistance, and, as he restored it to her, said, in a low voice, in French,—

“This evening I shall be in the cloisters before sunset. Meet me there, I entreat you. I wish to ask your pardon, if I have offended you.”

The shadows of evening had no sooner begun perceptibly to lengthen, than Hamilton repaired to the cloisters, and amused himself endeavouring to decipher the epitaphs on the various tombstones, until a light step close beside him made him look up, and he beheld, not Crescenz, but Hildegarde, standing before him. He was about to pass her with a slight inclination, when she stopped suddenly, and, while she slightly blushed, said firmly,—

“I am the bearer of a message from my sister.”

“The willing bearer of her excuses, no doubt.”

“I understood it was you who were to have made excuses,” she answered, coldly.

“Very true. I had to ask forgiveness for having offended her in the garden to-day; as, however, the excuses are only intended for her ear, let us consider them made, and talk of something else.”

“I have neither time nor inclination to speak on any subject but the one which brought me here.”

“The communication must be important, if I may judge by the solemnity of your manner,” said Hamilton, looking calmly into the quadrangle.

“My sister desires me to say that she feels the impropriety of her former interview with you here most deeply, and that nothing will induce her to consent to another. She has told you of her intended marriage; it is almost unnecessary to say that, under such circumstances, a continuation of your present attentions will only serve to embarrass and annoy her.”

“Your sister never desired you to say that,” cried Hamilton, fixing his eyes steadily on her face.

“Of this you may be assured,” she continued, colouring deeply, “that my sister will not again meet you alone, unless—unless——”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you are more explicit, and give her the power of choosing between you and Major Stultz. It is not yet too late.”

This was what may be called coming to the point at once, and Hamilton was so taken by surprise that he could only stammer something about the shortness of his acquaintance, and believing that he did not quite understand what she meant.

“I believe Crescenz does not quite understand what you mean,” cried Hildegarde, indignantly. “How I wish she could see with my eyes, and learn to despise you as you deserve!”

“You are really too flattering,” observed Hamilton, laughing, “much too flattering; but may I not be allowed to wish that you would see me with your sister’s eyes, and value me as I deserve? However,” he continued, glad of an opportunity to change the subject, “although you have just deprived me of a meeting with your sister, I shall not interfere with your intended tête-à-tête with Count Zedwitz.”

The Count advanced towards them as he spoke.

“Your good opinion is of too little importance to induce me to disclaim or enter into any explanation,” she replied, turning quickly from him; and bowing slightly to Zedwitz, she disappeared through one of the entrances to the cloisters.

“Hameeltone, that is not fair play,” cried the latter, laughing; “your presence here was not expected.”

“You do not mean to say you came here to meet Mademoiselle Rosenberg?”

“And why not? You have met her sister here. Why may not I hope to be equally fortunate?”

“Because—because——”

“Because you’re handsome, and I’m ugly; you think I have no chance?”

“That was not what I meant. The difference between the sisters would rather form the obstacle——”

“Difference, indeed!” exclaimed Zedwitz.

“The difference is in intellect,” observed Hamilton; “in person they are extremely alike.”

“You mean, perhaps, in figure?” asked Zedwitz.

“In feature, too,” persisted Hamilton.

“Why, they have both brown hair, blue eyes, and red lips, if that constitutes likeness; but while one has the mere beauty of extreme youth, the other is the most perfect model of female loveliness I ever beheld.”

“You are very far gone,” observed Hamilton, gravely.

“I am giving my opinion as an artist,” he replied, smiling. “You will understand my enthusiasm when I tell you that I spend all my leisure hours studying portrait-painting.”

“You came here just now, probably, to take a sketch of this most perfect model! But tell me, honestly, did she promise to meet you here?”

“How can you ask such downright questions? There are different kinds of beauty, and different kinds of dispositions. I did not exactly judge it expedient to say, ‘Meet me this evening in the cloisters’; but I talked of the beauty of the shadows here about sunset, and of my intention to finish a little aquarelle drawing of the said cloisters, with a Benedictine monk issuing from one of the adjoining passages—something just adapted for a lady’s album. I came. Had you not been here, I have no doubt I should have obtained a few minutes’ attention in spite of my ugliness.”

“She came here, however, expressly to meet me,” observed Hamilton, maliciously.

The Count stopped suddenly, and looked inquiringly in his companion’s face.

“She came with a message from her sister,” added Hamilton, quietly, and they again walked on together. “In fact,” he continued, “when you joined us, we were in the midst of a kind of altercation, which made your presence, to me at least, a great relief.”

“An altercation! About what, may I ask?”

“About her sister. She asked me in pretty plain terms what my intentions were, proposed my entering the lists fairly and honourably with Major Stultz; and, when I demurred, she talked angrily of despising me, and so forth. Depend on it, she will call you to account before long.”

“I am quite ready to be called to account.”

“You do not mean to say you think seriously of marrying!”

“I should be but too happy! There is no such luck in store for me!”

“You think she would refuse you?”

“I don’t know; but I know my father would refuse his consent.”

“Run off with her, and ask his consent afterwards.”

“I wish I could, but that is impossible here. Marriage is with us a civil as well as a religious act. You have no idea of the formalities attending it, or the certificates necessary to make it valid; besides which, my being in the army increases the difficulty. That cursed caution-money!”

“Caution-money? What is that?”

“About nine hundred pounds of your money without which no officer can obtain leave to marry. It is considered a sort of provision for his wife and children in case of his death, and is, probably, a very wise regulation, but is also sometimes a source of great vexation. I am by it completely placed in my father’s power, for although I receive from him at present, in addition to my pay, ten times as much as the interest of the necessary sum, and though I know at his death I shall have more than a comfortable maintenance, yet as Hildegarde has no fortune, and I am not independent, our marriage is at present utterly impossible!”

“I advise you at all events to speak to your father.”

“I shall carefully avoid such a communication. Why, I cannot even hope for my mother’s assistance, as the connection would be in every respect disagreeable to her. I have but one hope. Through my sister’s influence something may be done; she is a good child, and about to marry to please papa and mamma; first of all, however, I must speak to Hildegarde herself.”

“There you have every thing to hope, for she is absolutely civil to you sometimes! You will probably enter into some interesting secret engagement?”

“That would be worse than folly. I could not be so ungenerous as to ask her to refuse, perhaps, an eligible establishment, should one offer, on the chance that I should marry her, should I live to become a second edition of Major Stultz! Suppose I wait ten years, Hildegarde’s and my ideas would both be changed. I do not feel quite sure that at the end of that time I might not prefer some gentle, simple Crescenz, who would overlook my age and ugliness provided I made her handsome presents, and supplied her liberally with bon-bons. I wish you had seen her face of delight just before I came here, when Major Stultz gave her a box of bon-bons, which evidently had been ordered from Munich expressly for her, as it contained nothing but sugar hearts and darts, and kisses wrapped up in pink and blue papers, and doves billing, while almost bursting with the liquor with which they had been ingeniously filled by the confectioner!”

“So! Now I know why the little coquette did not come to meet me! After having called me to account for my neglect so innocently, and talking such mysterious nonsense about her first love, she amuses herself eating sugar-plums, and sends her sister to me now. These German girls are inexplicable; one cannot talk to them without quarrelling, or being entangled in a labyrinth of sentimentality.”

“You must not judge of all from your slight acquaintance with two,” observed Zedwitz, laughing. “You may say what you please, but you cannot deny that they are fine specimens of the species.”

“Hildegarde is undoubtedly handsome, but then she is only amiable towards you,” said Hamilton, leaning against the side of one of the arches. “I believe,” he continued, after a pause, “I believe I am getting very tired of Seon, and were I not engaged to these Rosenbergs, I should start at once for Vienna. Suppose we make a tour in the Tyrol together?”

Zedwitz looked embarrassed, and said, with some hesitation, “I—a—am—half engaged to join the Rosenbergs in a party to an alp, and afterwards to Salzburg.”

“What! and I have never heard a word about it?”

“Oh, you will be invited as a matter of course. I had some trouble to manage it, as I do not enjoy the good graces of Madame Rosenberg. She expects her husband to-morrow, who comes here for one day to make the acquaintance of his future son-in-law. The day he leaves is fixed for our excursion.”

“How do we travel—boys, of course, inclusive?”

“In whatever carriages we get from here. In Traunstein we take a char-à-banc, which will accommodate us all. For such parties it is a very agreeable vehicle, as we can all remain together; for when a division takes place, the chances that one gets a disagreeable companion are too great.”

“Videlicet!” cried Hamilton, laughing. “Count Zedwitz wishes to be quite sure of enjoying the society of a certain young lady for three whole days.”

“You are right,” he answered, taking Hamilton’s arm to leave the cloisters. “Quite right. I trust you have given up all idea of being my rival?”

“I believe I must give up all such idea, if I ever had it, for Hildegarde told me just now that she despised me; had she said she hated me, I might have some chance; but I am not equal to a struggle against indifference and scorn. I believe,” he added, laughing, “I must make her hate me.”

“But you won’t interfere with me, I hope?”

“Not at all. You will appear more amiable by the contrast.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Were I to continue my present line of conduct,” answered Hamilton, affected with solemnity, “it is possible that hate might be produced in time; but, in order to hurry matters, I shall be obliged to make desperate love to her sister. Hildegarde seems very vulnerable on that point. It will not also cause me much trouble, as Crescenz gave me a fair challenge to-day in the garden, and cannot reproach me hereafter.”

“Hamilton,” cried Zedwitz, stopping suddenly, and looking at him attentively, “you are certainly older than you acknowledge to be.”

“I understand the implied compliment,” replied Hamilton. “You conceive my intellect beyond my years. My father always said I was no fool; I am glad to find that others are inclined to agree with him in this negative sort of commendation.”

“You are indeed anything but a fool; and if you fall into good hands, I have no doubt——”

“Good hands!” cried Hamilton, interrupting him; “I have no idea of falling into any hands, good or bad; I intend to judge and act for myself.”

“Then you will pay dear for your experience, as others have done before you.”

“We shall see,” replied Hamilton.

“You will feel,” said Zedwitz, seizing with both hands the ends of his long moustaches, to give them a peculiar twirl towards the corners of his eyes before he entered the room where the company were assembled for supper.