tter that peace
could not be established at their next meeting.

In the meantime Prince Adelsberg had found Frau von Wallmoden in the
park. He begged her to continue her walk, and now the two were
sauntering under the cool dark shadows of the great lindens, whose
spreading branches protected them from the sun's rays, which beat down
so fiercely on the neighboring meadows.

Egon had not seen the young wife since her husband's death. He had made
a formal visit of condolence at that time, but Eugen Stahlberg had
received him in his sister's stead, and immediately after the brother
and sister had left for the North. Adelheid still wore deep mourning,
but Prince Egon thought the sombre attire and black veil under which her
fair hair gleamed like a halo, only enhanced her beauty.

His glance frequently sought the fair young face, and each time he asked
himself what change had come over it; he felt there was a change, but
could not define wherein it lay. Egon had only seen her when her cold,
proud reserve held every one in check. Now all coldness had disappeared,
he saw and felt it, and yet there seemed a mystery about her which he
could not unravel.

She could not be grieving for a husband old enough to be her father,
who, even had he been nearer her own age, was of a cold, guarded nature,
and could not inspire the love of a fresh young girl. And yet there was
something in the face which told of sorrow, of a deep and voiceless woe.

"If this icy exterior could be broken through one would find warmth and
life beneath," Prince Egon had declared more than once, half jestingly.
Now this transformation had been partially effected, slowly, almost
imperceptibly. But this soft, half-pained expression, which had taken
the place of the haughty, cold one, this sorrowful glance, gave the
young widow the one charm which had been lacking--gentleness.

The conversation had been about trifling every-day matters, inquiries
and answers concerning the court and the harmless gossip of the day.
Egon repeated the story he had already related to the head forester
about the heat of Ostend, and his desire for solitude in his little
woodland home. His listener's fleeting smile showed him that she was as
incredulous as Herr von Schoenau had been; perhaps she too had read the
newspaper statements concerning the royal niece at Ostend. He was angry,
and was puzzling his brain to know how he could broach the subject, and
correct the error into which