ely.

"Why, you are going to be brave at his expense, poor man. You must not
expect anything from me, my dear, but common sense. You give up all hope
of being happy because you think it your duty to go on sacrificing him
and yourself to a set of thankless, worthless women, and you call it
being brave. I call it being unnatural and silly."

"It has never been a question of Herr von Lohm," said Anna coldly,
indeed freezingly. "What claims has he on me? My plans were all made
before I knew that he existed."

"Oh, my dear, your plans are very irritating things. The only plan a
sensible young woman ought to make is to get as good a husband as
possible as quickly as she can."

"Why," said Anna, rising in her indignation, and preparing to leave a
princess suddenly become objectionable, "why, you are as bad as Susie!"

"Susie?" said the princess, who had not heard of her by that name. "Was
Susie also one who told you the truth?"

But Anna walked out of the room without answering, in a very dignified
manner; went into the loneliest part of the garden; sat down behind some
bushes; and cried.

She looked back on those childish tears afterwards, and on all that had
gone before, as the last part of a long sleep; a sleep disturbed by
troubling and foolish dreams, but still only a sleep and only dreams.
She woke up the very next day, and remained wide awake after that for
the rest of her life.

CHAPTER XXX

Anna drove into Stralsund the next morning to her banker, accompanied by
Miss Leech. When they passed Axel's house she saw that his gate-posts
were festooned with wreaths, and that garlands of flowers were strung
across the gateway, swaying to and fro softly in the light breeze. "Why,
how festive it looks," she exclaimed, wondering.

"Yesterday was Herr von Lohm's birthday," said Miss Leech. "I heard
Princess Ludwig say so."

"Oh," said Anna. Her tone was piqued. She turned her head away, and
looked at the hay-fields on the opposite side of the road. Axel must
have birthdays, of course, and why should he not put things round his
gate-posts if he wanted to? Yet she would not look again, and was silent
the rest of the way; nor was it of any use for Miss Leech to attempt to
while away the long drive with pleasant conversation. Anna would not
talk; she said it was too hot to talk. What she was thinking was that
men were exceedingly horrid, all of them, and that life was a snare.

Far from being festive, however,