had inherited from
her respected father, and of all that she owed to Nuremberg on this
account. Then he spoke also of that other inheritance, the red house,
explaining to her that it was her duty as a citizen to see that this
should not be placed by her in evil hands. After that he took up
the subject of Peter Steinmarc's merits; and according to Herr Molk,
as he now drew the picture, Peter was little short of a municipal
demigod. Prudent he was, and confidential. A man deep in the city's
trust, and with money laid out at interest. Strong and healthy he
was,--indeed lusty for his age, if Herr Molk spoke the truth. Poor
Linda gave a little kick beneath the clothes when this was said,
but she spoke no word of reply. And then Peter was a man not given
to scolding, of equal temper, who knew his place, and would not
interfere with things that did not belong to him. Herr Molk produced
a catalogue of nuptial virtues, and endowed Peter with them all. When
this was completed, he came to the last head of his discourse,--the
last head and the most important. Ludovic Valcarm was still in
prison, and there was no knowing what might be done to him. To be
imprisoned for life in some horrible place among the rats seemed
to be the least of it. Linda, when she heard this, gave one slight
scream, but she said nothing. Because Herr Molk was a burgomaster,
she need not on that account believe every word that fell from his
mouth. But the cruellest blow of all was at the end. When Ludovic was
taken, there had been--a young woman with him.

"What young woman?" said Linda, turning sharply upon the burgomaster.

"Not such a young woman as any young man ought to be seen with," said
Herr Molk.

"What matters her name?" said Madame Staubach, who, during the whole
discourse, had been sitting silent by the bedside.

"I don't believe a word of it," said Linda.

"I saw the young woman in his company, my dear. She had a felt hat
and a blue frock. But, my child, you know nothing of the lives of
such young men as this. It would not astonish me if he knew a dozen
young women! You don't suppose that such a one as he ever means to be
true?"

"I am sure he meant to be true to me," said Linda.

"T-sh, t-sh, t-sh! my dear child; you don't know the world, and how
should you? If you want to marry a husband who will remain at home
and live discreetly, and be true to you, you must take such a man as
Peter Steinmarc."

"Of course she must," said Madame St