some peaches,
Sidonie; there are hot-house peaches to be had. You shall have any thing
you like; you are my good son Bernhard, and my delight is in you."

"He will not have any thing of the kind," interposed his mother. "All
his joy is in his books. Many a day he never asks for Rosalie and me. He
reads too much, and that's why he looks like a man of sixty. Why will he
not go with us on Sunday?"

"I will, if you like," said Bernhard, mournfully; adding soon after, "Do
you know a young man of the name of Wohlfart, in Schroeter's house?"

"No," said his father, decidedly.

"Perhaps you do, Rosalie. He is handsome and refined-looking; I think
you must have met him."

"Hardly, if he is in an office."

"Our Rosalie dances chiefly with officers and artists," explained her
mother.

"He is a clever and a delightful man," continued Bernhard; "I am going
to study English with him, and rejoice to have made his acquaintance."

"He shall be invited," decreed Ehrenthal; "if he pleases our Bernhard,
he shall be welcome to our house. Let us have a good dinner on Sunday,
Sidonie, at two o'clock. He shall come to all our parties; Bernhard's
friend shall be the friend of us all."

The mother gave her consent, and Rosalie began to ponder what dress she
should wear, so as to make the greatest impression.

But whence came it to pass that Bernhard did not communicate to his
family the subject of the conversation that had so much interested him?
that he soon relapsed into silence and returned to his study? that, when
there, he bowed his head over his old manuscripts, while large drops
rolled down on them, erasing the much-prized characters unobserved?
Whence came it that the young man, of whom his mother was so proud, whom
his father so loved and honored, sat alone, shedding the bitterest tears
that an honest man can, while in another part of the house Rosalie's
white fingers were flying over the keys, practicing the difficult piece
that was to astonish the next soiree? From that day dated a friendship
between Anton and Bernhard which was a source of pleasure and profit to
both. Anton described the studious youth to the free and easy Fink, and
expressed his wish to bring about a meeting between the two by a
tea-drinking in his rooms.

"If it amuses you, Tony," said Fink, shrugging his shoulders, "I will
come; but I warn you that of all living characters I most dislike a
book-worm. No one theorizes more presumptuously upon every pos