r countess loved him far too well, and that was her misfortune--and
our young count was exactly like her, and that was his. Only she was
small-made and delicate, and had a voice like the clearest bell. When
at last, after many long years of waiting, she had hopes of being a
mother, she looked like some fair angel; her joy was shining so
peacefully in her eyes! And the count seemed kinder, and even stayed
here all the summer, to be present at the baby's birth. When the nurse
brought it to him, so small and weakly looking, with its little yellow
down upon its head, he said nothing, but put it back into its cradle,
and left the room without a word.

"I saw that my lady was deeply hurt, and I felt so angry, that I could
not keep from saying, half to myself; 'Boys don't come into the world
on horseback!' But I repented directly, for my lady heard me, and sent
me out of the room. A week after this, she died.

"It was I who had to go and tell my master. He was sitting at the
piano, which he played, oh, so beautifully! I could have listened to
him for ever. It was early in the morning: he had watched through the
night in my lady's ante-chamber, and as she seemed to be rather better,
he had just gone upstairs; only instead of going to bed, he sat down to
play, and, while he was playing, she died. He shut down the piano,
without changing one feature of his face, and went down stairs to look
at his dead wife with the same proud step he always had; and in the
outer room, where our little master lay asleep in his cradle, he passed
the poor babe as though it were only a dead image, as its poor mother
was. When he came out again, he said to me:

"'A wet-nurse must be found,' he said; 'meantime, Flor, I give
the child in charge to you. I hold you responsible for every proper
care.--'

"And then he ordered his favorite horse, and rode away, and did not
come home till evening.

"Three days after this, they buried our countess in the cemetery of the
town. The count went with the funeral on horseback. And I could not
help thinking--God forgive me!--there he goes, prancing away like any
conqueror, with his poor victim carried after him for his triumph.

"When the ceremony was over, and all the servants were assembled,
eating their funeral feast in silence, and I was alone upstairs,
sitting by the little one's cradle, and crying while I was singing him
to sleep, in comes my master, stares at the babe a while, and says:

"'They had to