om the
door of the inn, before which the diligence had halted. Turning she saw a
most suave personage bowing and smiling, and imploring her to enter the
hostelry. Wilhelmine looked with interest at the man, evidently the
innkeeper, yet of so clerical an appearance that she thought he must be a
particularly prosperous priest. She entered the inn, and was ordering
herself some slight refreshment from her obsequious host when bells from
some neighbouring church rang out. The innkeeper crossed his brow and
breast with the third finger of his right hand, while with his left hand
he piously hid his eyes. He recited some prayers in a mumbling undertone,
then crossing himself once more, he turned with an oily smile to
Wilhelmine. 'The Angelus,' he said; 'evidently Madame is not of the
Faith. Here in Rottenburg we are all members of the true Church. We have
had the privilege of having a Jesuit college here these many years.'

Wilhelmine made some appropriate answer, and noted for the first time in
her personal experience the truth of a remark of Monsieur Gabriel's, that
one of the strengths of the Catholic Church is the semi-clericalising of
the laymen who live in or near any religious centre. It flatters the
uneducated to feel themselves akin to their spiritual dictators, and it
gives them a spurious refinement. Undoubtedly, the host of the Roemischer
Kaiser was an excellent specimen of this class.

Wilhelmine, having partaken of her breakfast, was setting out to walk
towards the Neuhaus, where her brother had directed her to appear, when
she saw Friedrich Graevenitz coming down the street. He greeted his sister
hastily, and explained that the diligence had arrived before the usual
hour. He apologised for not having been at the inn to welcome his sister
on her arrival, but it struck Wilhelmine that though her brother had
gained in polish of manner since he had become a courtier, he had lost
the warmth and friendliness which had characterised him in earlier days.
She felt chilled and saddened, and it was in silence that she walked
beside him across the fields from Rottenburg to Madame de Ruth's house. A
stout peasant followed them carrying her scanty baggage. Friedrich talked
volubly to his unresponsive companion, and though he expressed the hope,
with much politeness, that she was not fatigued by her journey, he did
not listen to her reply, but plunged into an exact account of his own
position at court and of his poverty and di