th, 'and God knows he
lives according to God's rules; but oh! how more than usually tiresome he
makes those rules, poor Bony One!'

Forstner naturally disapproved of Wilhelmine, and the two were for ever
contradicting each other; but she often endeavoured to propitiate him,
for she loathed disapproval, and preferred the open hostility of a real
enemy to the presence of any merely disapproving person. Eberhard Ludwig
suffered intensely in those weeks at Stuttgart; he was fiercely irritable
to Forstner, resenting his comments on Wilhelmine, though he longed
childishly for some appreciation of a new and much-prized toy.

Stafforth, who had returned with the Duke, assisted the intrigue to the
best of his ability by constantly arranging meetings, feasts, picnics in
the forest, music in the evenings, followed by gay suppers. But he
offended Wilhelmine deeply, though she gave no sign thereof, for he
treated the whole situation as an ordinary court intrigue, which indeed
it was, though both people concerned were earnestly and deeply engaged in
the one great love of their lives. Forstner sat like a grim, polite
skeleton at these feasts, and Wilhelmine grew to hate him in those summer
days. Her hatred was destined to wreak a terrible vengeance against him.
Friedrich Graevenitz had also returned to Stuttgart, leaving his wife in
Rottenburg awaiting the birth of their first child.

Duchess Johanna Elizabetha continued to reside at the castle, torturing
herself with jealous fears. She appeared before the Duke with eyes
reddened by sleepless nights and bitter tears, and her habitual
dreariness of being was doubled.

Eberhard Ludwig himself, intent upon his love, gave the poor woman scarce
a thought, though when he saw her he noted her tear-stained eyelids and
her woebegone, reproachful ways with an irritation which, though it could
not pierce the studied courtesy of his manner, made itself felt, and
further wounded the unhappy woman. Madame de Stafforth was constantly
with the Duchess, and thus her Highness was perfectly informed of the
Duke's daily visits at the Stafforth house.

The days dragged on, and the heat grew to be almost unbearable. Each day
the sun shone more gloriously, and the Duchess longed for one grey,
overcast day. To her the sun seemed pitiless and cruel, the summer's
amplitude seemed to mock her in her misery.

Each evening, at set of sun, she heard the rattle and rumble of Eberhard
Ludwig's coach, which he