greeted
her with enthusiasm; they were faithful, these despised Israelites. For a
moment it had warmed her heart back to a little interest in living. She
busied herself with the affairs of the village, but she was used to a
press of work, of governing, of vital interests; how could these minor
matters occupy her for long?

She tried to read, but though her eyes followed the lines her thoughts
flashed away to Ludwigsburg. She struck a few chords on the spinet;
unconsciously her fingers glided into a melody Eberhard Ludwig had loved,
and only a sob broke from her lips when she would have sung. Ghosts at
Freudenthal? She was the ghost herself; she was the shadow of bygone
days--the poor, yearning, broken-hearted ghost.

They came and told her that Serenissimus had returned from Berlin, and
that he had been greeted by the news of the Erbprinz's serious illness.
Prince Friedrich had fallen ill of a nervous fever, they said. Ah, yes!
she told herself she had caused it; in her morbid sadness she took the
blame of every untoward occurrence upon her shoulders. She had caused
Friedrich Ludwig to fall ill, for great emotions must perforce shatter so
frail a being as he was, and she had tortured him, tempted him.

One day two travelling coaches rolled into Freudenthal--the Sittmann
tribe arrived. It was but ill received by the Graevenitz. Why had they
come? she asked. Her sister informed her that Serenissimus had broken up
the court of Ludwigsburg; he was to reside henceforth at Stuttgart. Had
she not heard? Oh, yes! His Highness was reconciled with the Duchess, and
it was disagreeable for former members of the Ludwigsburg court nowadays.
This latter was said in a whiny tone of reproach.

'Get you gone to your own apartments, my sister and my sister's brats! If
stay you must at Freudenthal, then stay, but leave me now,' the Graevenitz
said; and though she was no longer the all-powerful Landhofmeisterin,
still there was that about her which made the parasites shrink back. But
they had done enough, had they not? in telling her thus roughly that the
woman she had loathed and despised with all jealousy's venom during
twenty years, had triumphed over her at last.

The Graevenitz stood before one of the most galling of life's lessons, she
had to bow to the inexorable commonplace. Her whole being was agonised;
she was breasting the dark waters of despair, she was living a tragedy,
but everyday life had to go on as usual: the necessar