n her power to do so; for Abellino no longer appeared in
church on Sundays. Nay, he had not, as usual, given her the three
thousand florins for the coming month personally, but had sent it to her
in advance by an old lackey.

What fine calculation!

Dame Kramm could only believe that the unknown gentleman was determined
at all hazards not to approach the girl, and that an effort would have
to be made to find him. She therefore humbly asked the lackey whether it
was not possible to catch a glimpse of his master in a public place,
even if only at a distance and but for a moment.

The lackey replied that his master would be visible at the public
session of the Upper House of the Diet on the morrow, and that he would
be sitting opposite the fifth pillar.

Oh ho! So he was a great nobleman, then--one of the fathers of the
Fatherland who are occupied day and night with the thought of how to
make the realm and the nation happier! And still greater confidence
arose in her heart. He to whom the destiny of the realm is entrusted
could scarcely be a fribbler!

Dame Kramm informed Fanny that she would be able to see her unknown
benefactor on the morrow in the Diet; that she could pick him out from
among the throng without anybody being the wiser, and that the whole
affair would only take a moment or two.

So Fanny went to the gallery of the Diet, where Dame Kramm pointed out
to her her mysterious benefactor.

Fanny fell down from heaven forthwith. She had expected to see some one
quite different. The face which Dame Kramm pointed out had no attraction
for her. On the contrary, it filled her heart with a feeling of distrust
and consternation. She hurried Dame Kramm away from the gallery, and
carried her poor disillusioned heart home. There she took her aunt into
her confidence, and revealed everything--her dreams, her ambitious
longings, and her disappointment. She confessed that now she
loved--yes, loved--a man who was her ideal, whose name she knew not, and
she begged to be defended against herself, for she felt tottering on the
edge of an abyss. She was mistress of her own heart no longer.

Next day, when Dame Kramm came for Fanny to take her to the
singing-master, she found Teresa's house deserted. The doors and windows
were shut, and the furniture had been removed. Nobody could tell where
she had gone.

She had taken it into her head to flit in the night-time. Her rent she
had deposited with the caretaker, unknown po