im
through Frau Schmidt; but I always have to return them as soon as I
have read them. They are not written in a man's hand; the writing is
unmistakably feminine. The seal is never stamped; only once I noticed on
it a crest with three flowers--"

"What sort of flowers?" hastily interposed the baroness.

"I don't know the names of them, your ladyship."

"And what do you write about?" she asked again.

"The correspondence began by the count asking a trifling favor of me. He
complained that the dogs in the village barked so loud; then, that the
children robbed the birds' nests; then, that the night-watchman called
the hour unnecessarily loud. These complaints, however, were not made in
his own name, but by another person whom he did not name. He wrote
merely: 'Complainant is afraid when the dogs bark.' 'Complainant loves
birds.' 'Complainant is made nervous by the night-watchman.' Then he
sent some money for the owners of the barking dogs, asking that the curs
be shut indoors nights; and some for the children, so they would cease
to rob the birds' nests; and some for the watchman, whom he requested to
shout his loudest at the other end of the village. When I had attended
to his requests, he began to send me his newspaper, which is a great
favor, for I can ill afford to subscribe for one myself. Later, he
loaned me some books; he has the classics of all nations--the works of
Wieland, Kleist, Boerne, Lessing, Locke, Schleiermacher. Then we began to
write about the books, and became entangled in a most exciting argument.
Frau Schmidt, who was the bearer of this exchange of opinions, very
often passed to and fro between the castle and the parsonage a dozen
times a day; and all the time we never said anything to each other, when
we happened to meet in the road, but 'good day.' From the letters,
however, I became convinced that the mysterious gentleman is neither a
criminal, nor a fugitive from justice, nor yet an adventurous hero who
abducts women! Nor is he an unfortunate misanthrope. He is, on the
contrary, a philanthropist in the widest sense--one who takes an
interest in everything that goes on about him, and is eager to help his
suffering fellows. In a word, he is a philosopher who is happy when he
is surrounded by peace and quiet."

The baroness, who had listened with interest to the reverend gentleman's
words, now made inquiry:

"How does this nameless gentleman learn of his poor neighbors' needs,
when neither he