aroness. There
were the delicate features, the unspeakable refinement, which had so
impressed him when he saw her first. She at once discovered that he was
unaccustomed to society, and looked at him with a curiosity not
unmingled with some misgiving; but Lenore cut the interview as short as
she could by saying that it was time to take their places in the dance.

"He waltzes tolerably--too much swing, perhaps," muttered Fink to
himself.

"A distinguished-looking pair," cried Frau von Baldereck, as Anton and
Lenore whirled past.

"She talks too much to him," said the baroness to her husband, who
happened to join her.

"To him?" asked he; "who is the young man? I have never seen the face
before."

"He is one of the adherents of Herr von Fink--he is alone here--has rich
relatives in Russia or America; I do not like the acquaintance for
Lenore."

"Why not?" replied the baron; "he looks a good, innocent sort of youth,
and is far better suited for this child's-play than the old boys that I
see around. There is Bruno Toennchen, whose only pleasure is to make the
girls blush, or teach them to leave off blushing. Lenore looks
uncommonly well to-night. I am going to my whist; send for me when the
carriage is ready."

Anton heard none of these comments upon him; and if the hum of the
company around had been as loud as that of the great bell of the city's
highest steeple, he would not have heard it better. For him the whole
world had shrunk to the circle round which he and his partner revolved.
The beautiful fair head so near his own that sometimes they touched, the
warm breath that played on his cheek, the unspeakable charm of the white
glove that hid her small hand, the perfume of her handkerchief, the red
flowers fastened to her dress--these he saw and felt; all besides was
darkness, barrenness, nothingness.

Suddenly the music stopped, and Anton's world fell back into chaos.
"What a pity!" said Lenore, as the last note died away.

"I thank you for this bliss!" said Anton, leading her back to her place.

As he moved to and fro in the crowd like a rudderless ship amid the
waves, Fink took him in tow, and said, "I say, you hypocrite, you have
either drunk sweet wine, or you are a quiet sort of Don Juan. How long
have you known the Rothsattel? You have never spoken of her to me. She
has a lovely figure and a classical face. Has she any sense?"

At that moment how unspeakably Anton despised his friend! Such an
expressi