des and velvets. The huge puffs on the
upper part of the sleeves touched the cheeks of many of the wearers, and
the lace ruffs on the stiff collars rendered it easy, it is true, to
maintain their aristocratic, haughty dignity, but prevented any free,
swift movement.

The young girl who, as Kuni afterward learned, was the daughter of Conrad
Peutinger, of Augsburg, whom she had again seen that day in The Blue
Pike, was then eleven years old. She was sometimes thought to be fifteen
or even sixteen; her mobile face did not retain the same expression a
single instant. When the smile which gave her a childlike appearance
vanished, and any earnest feeling stirred her soul, she really resembled
a mature maiden. What a brilliant, versatile intellect must animate this
remarkable creature! Lienhard, shrewd and highly educated as he was,
seemed to be completely absorbed in his neighbour; nay, in his animated
conversation with her he entirely forgot the beautiful wife at his side;
at least, while Kuni looked down at him, he did not bestow a single
glance upon her. Now he shook his finger mischievously at the child, but
he seemed to be seeking, in mingled amusement and perplexity, to find a
fitting answer. And how brightly Lienhard's eyes sparkled as he fairly
hung upon the sweet red lips of the little marvel at his left--the heart
side! A few minutes had sufficed to show the ropedancer all this, and
suggest the question whether it was possible that the most faithful of
husbands would thus basely neglect, for the sake of a child, the young
wife whom he had won in spite of the hardest obstacles, on whose account
he had so coldly and cruelly rejected her, the object of so much wooing,
and who, this very day, was the fairest of all the beautiful ladies who
surrounded her.

In an instant her active mind transported her to the soul of the hitherto
favoured wife of the man whom she loved, and her strangely constituted
woman's heart filled with resentment against the young creature below,
who had not even attained womanhood, and yet seemed to gain, without
effort, the prize for which she had vainly striven with painful longing.

She, whose heart had remained free from jealousy of the woman who stood
between her and the man she loved, like a solid bulwark erected by Fate
itself, was now suddenly overmastered by this passion.

Yet she did not turn against the person to whom Lienhard belonged, as he
did to the city, or to his own family, an