im so long I do not know; but that is no
business of mine. But I am an old fool; while I am talking so much I
should be finding out how I can be of assistance to you."

"You will not find that very difficult," she replied. "All we are going
to trouble you for is some dinner, and your promise to say nothing,
should Monsieur Pharos come here in search of us."

"I will do both with the utmost pleasure," he answered. "You may be sure
I will say nothing, and you shall have the very best dinner old Ludwig
can cook. What is more, you shall have it in my own private
sitting-room, where you will be undisturbed. Oh, I can assure you,
Fraeulein, it is very good to see your face again."

"It is very kind of you to say so," said Valerie, "and also to take so
much trouble. I thank you."

"You must not thank me at all," the old fellow replied. "But some day,
perhaps, you will let me hear you play again." Then, pointing to the
violin-case, which I carried in my hand, he continued, "I see you have
brought the beautiful instrument with you. Ah, Gott! what recollections
it conjures up for me. I can see old--but there, there, come with me, or
I shall be talking half the night!"

We accordingly followed him through the door by which he had entered,
and along a short passage to a room at the rear of the building. Here he
bade us make ourselves at home, while he departed to see about the
dinner. Before he did so, however, Valerie stopped him.

"Herr Schuncke," she said, "before you leave us, I want your
congratulations. Let me introduce you to Mr. Forrester, the gentleman to
whom I am about to be married."

The old fellow turned to me, and gave another of his grotesque bows.

"Sir," he said, "I congratulate you with all my heart. To hear her play
always, ah! what good fortune for a man. You will have a treasure in
your house that no money could buy. Be sure that you treat her as such."

When I had promised to do so, the warm-hearted old fellow departed on
his errand.

I must leave you to imagine the happiness of that dinner. Even now it
sends a thrill through me to think of it. I can recall the quaint little
room, so undeniably German in its furniture and decorations; the table
laden with the good things the landlord had provided for us--even to the
extent of a bottle of his own particular wine, which only saw the light
on the most important occasions; the military-looking waiter, with his
close-cropped hair and heavy eyes; and Val