loit did not succeed, and the
good-looking hussar found out, for the first time in his life, that a
woman can at the same time be romantic, passionately in love, and yet
virtuous.

The next morning, the tailor called on the Count, and begged him very
humbly to state what his intentions with regard to Fanny were. The
enamored hussar declared that he was determined to make the tailor's
little daughter, Countess W----. Herr Loewenfuss was so much overcome by
his feelings, that he showed great inclination to embrace his future
son-in-law, The Count, however, laid down certain conditions. The whole
matter must be kept a profound secret, for he had every prospect of
inheriting half a million of florins, on the death of an aunt, who was
already eighty years old, which he should risk by a mesalliance.

When they heard this, the girl's parents certainly hesitated for a time,
to give their consent to the marriage, but the handsome hussar, whose
ardent passion carried Fanny away, at last gained the victory. The
doctor received a pretty little note from the tailor's daughter, in
which she told him that she gave him back his promise, as she had not
found her ideal in him. Fanny then signed a deed, by which she formerly
renounced all claims to her father's property, in favor of her sister,
and left her home and her father's house with the Count under cover of
the night, in order to accompany him to Poland, where the marriage was
to take place in his castle.

Of course malicious tongues declared that the hussar had abducted Fanny,
but her parents smiled at such reports, for they knew better, and the
moment when their daughter would return as Countess W---- would amply
recompense them for everything.

Meanwhile, the Polish Count and the romantic German girl were being
carried by the train through the dreary plains of Masovia.[7] They
stopped in a large town to make some purchases, and the Count, who was
very wealthy and liberal, provided his future wife with everything that
befits a Countess, and which a girl could fancy, and then they continued
their journey. The country grew more picturesque, but more melancholy,
as they went further East; the somber Carpathians rose from the
snow-covered plains and villages, surrounded by white glistening walls,
and stunted willows stood by the side of the roads, ravens sailed
through the white sky, and here and there a small peasant's sledge shot
by, drawn by two thin horses.

[Footnote 7: A