Ludovic, therefore, had
housed himself elsewhere, and had been free of the authority of the
town-clerk when away from his office. But he had been often in his
cousin's rooms, and there had grown up some acquaintance between him
and aunt Charlotte and Linda. It had been very slight;--so thought
aunt Charlotte. It had been as slight as her precautions could make
it. But Ludovic, nevertheless, had spoken such words to Linda that
Linda had been unable to answer him; and though Madame Staubach was
altogether ignorant that such iniquity had been perpetrated, Peter
Steinmarc had shrewdly guessed the truth.

Rumours of a very ill sort had reached the red house respecting
Ludovic Valcarm. When Linda had interrogated Tetchen as to the nature
of the things that were said of Ludovic in that conversation between
Peter and Madame Staubach which Tetchen had overheard, she had not
asked without some cause. She knew that evil things were said of the
young man, and that evil words regarding him had been whispered by
Peter into her aunt's ears;--that such whisperings had been going on
almost ever since the day on which Ludovic had declined to return
again to the official stool; and she knew, she thought that she knew,
that such whisperings were not altogether undeserved. There was a
set of young men in Nuremberg of whom it was said that they had a
bad name among their elders,--that they drank spirits instead of
beer, that they were up late at nights, that they played cards among
themselves, that they were very unfrequent at any house of prayer,
that they belonged to some turbulent political society which had, to
the grief of all the old burghers, been introduced into Nuremberg
from Munich, that they talked of women as women are talked of in
Paris and Vienna and other strongholds of iniquity, and that they
despised altogether the old habits and modes of life of their
forefathers. They were known by their dress. They wore high round
hats like chimney-pots,--such as were worn in Paris,--and satin
stocks, and tight-fitting costly coats of fine cloth, and long
pantaloons, and they carried little canes in their hands, and gave
themselves airs, and were very unlike what the young men of Nuremberg
used to be. Linda knew their appearance well, and thought that it
was not altogether unbecoming. But she knew also,--for she had often
been so told,--that they were dangerous men, and she was grieved that
Ludovic Valcarm should be among their number.