e instruction
from him. She also played frequently for him, although no longer
exhibiting her musical talent in society.

The entire circle for once did something novel: they carried from Bella
to Clodwig, and from him to Bella, the enthusiastic speeches of the one
about the other; and even personages of the highest rank took part in
furthering their intimacy. This became necessary from the timidity they
both experienced, when they became conscious of the possibility of a
different relation between them. Meanwhile success crowned the attempt,
and the betrothal was celebrated in the most select circle of the
court.

Mischievous tongues now repeated--for it was but fair that there should
be some compensation for the previous excessive good-nature--that two
interesting points of discussion had arisen. Bella, they said, had made
it a condition of the betrothal, that he should never speak of his
deceased wife, and the old Pranken had asked of the physician how long
the count might be expected to live. He must have smiled in a peculiar
way when the physician assured him that such old gentlemen, who live so
regularly, quietly, and without passion, might count upon an indefinite
number of years.

In the meanwhile, the conduct of Bella gave the lie to the malicious
report that she hoped soon to be a rich young widow. Clodwig had had an
attack of vertigo shortly before the wedding; and always after that
Bella contrived that he should be, without his knowledge, attended by a
servant. She devoted herself with the most affectionate care to the old
gentleman, who now seemed to enjoy a new life, and to gain fresh vigor
on returning to his paternal estate. At the baths, where they went
every summer, Clodwig and Bella were highly esteemed personages. She
was admired not only for her beauty, but also for her stainless
fidelity, and for her solicitous attention to her aged husband.

CHAPTER VI.

THE RECEPTION DAY.

It was yet bright daylight here upon the mountain-height, when they
approached the Wolfsgarten mansion. As they were making the last ascent
through the park, a beautiful girl in a figured blue summer-suit stood
in the path between the green trees. Getting sight of the carriage, she
quickly turned back again. Two light-blue ribbons, tied behind,
according to the fashion, floated in the evening wind. Her step was
firm and yet graceful.

"Ah," said Pranken,