the
paroquet kept wheeling about them, and perching now on the shoulder of
one, and then on that of the other, his feeling of veneration became
such that he blushed deeply, and drew back further into the lilac-tree's
shadow.

Then, with his imagination filled by what he had seen, he went with
elastic step along the broad walk, hoping to find a way of exit.

Soon he heard a horse's feet behind him, and saw the younger of the two
ladies come riding after him, mounted upon a black pony, and using her
parasol as a whip. Now the ladies of Ostrau were not in the habit of
riding. He had, indeed, once upon a time, beheld a professional
equestrian with very red cheeks and flowing garments, and had
unspeakably admired her, but now the same feeling was far more intense.
He stood still and bowed reverentially. The young girl acknowledged his
homage by a gracious nod, pulled up her horse, and asked whether he
wished to speak to her father.

"I crave your pardon," replied Anton, with the deepest respect;
"probably I am in a path not open to strangers. I came across the
meadow, and saw no gate and no hedge."

"The gate is on the bridge; it is open by day," said the young lady,
with great benignity, for reverence was not the sentiment her fourteen
years often inspired, and she was the more pleased therewith. "But,
since you are in the garden," continued she, "will you not look around?
We shall be very glad if it give you pleasure."

"I have already taken that liberty," replied Anton, with another bow. "I
have been on the lawn before the castle: it is magnificent."

"Yes," said the young lady, reining in her pony; "the gardener laid it
out under mamma's own direction."

"Then the lady who stood with you on the balcony was your mother?"
timidly inquired Anton.

"What! you have been watching us, then? Do you know that that was
wrong?"

"Forgive me," was the humble reply; "I retreated at once, but it was
such a lovely sight--the two ladies, the roses in full blossom, the
framework of vine leaves--I shall never forget it."

"He is charming!" thought the young girl. "Since you have already seen
the garden," said she, condescendingly, "you must go to the point from
which we have the best view. I am on my way thither now, if you like to
follow."

Anton followed, lost in delight. The lady bade her horse walk slowly,
and played the cicerone. At last she dismounted and led the pony,
whereupon Anton ventured to stroke his neck--an