that of the girl swaying before them on the
ground. How came he to constitute himself the knight of this poor
creature, who clung so tightly to his arm that he realized well enough
it would not be easy to shake her off again?

Six weeks ago, in another city--it was a summer night, too--in what a
different mood had he returned home from a walk, and in what different
company! But that was passed forever. Should he wander about in the
desert all his life long in sackcloth and ashes, and turn his back upon
all the happiness of existence? Who would be benefited by his
sacrifice? And yet, why could he not suppress this obstinate pain, this
remembrance of past days that sought to fill him with disgust at the
lighthearted life of this "city of pleasure?"

He would not let his life be ruined by a spectre, he would carry his
head high and sneer away all attacks of sentimentality. Laughing
defiantly, to silence the low, far-off voice in his heart, he released
his arm from the girl's, only to put it still tighter and more tenderly
about her shoulder.

"Zenz," he said, "you are a darling little sweetheart. It would be a
sin if you should not know where to lay your head. Do you see that
house over there, with the lamp burning in front? That is where I live,
and no one has a key to all the doors. How would it be if we should
play hide-and-seek there for a time, with all this tiresome world?"

He merrily lifted her up from the ground, as if he would carry her over
the street into the house; but she suddenly released herself and
pointed anxiously to two riders, who were already so close upon them
that they were forced to run to get by them.

"You little goose!" he laughed, "surely you are not afraid of two
people on horseback, and they peaceful Sunday riders--"

The word died on his lips. As the light of the lantern fell on the
faces of the two horsemen, he recognized in the one the lean profile
and the black imperial of Lieutenant Schnetz, and in the other a little
mustached gentleman, with a straw hat and a light riding-jacket.

No; it must be a mistake! How came _he_ here? He had been deceived by a
resemblance. It was only because he had so recently been thinking about
past times, that their shadow had risen up before him. What could
possibly bring the uncle of his betrothed to Munich, and in the company
of the lieutenant--he who never left his niece?

And yet--as he looked he heard him say a word or two to Schnetz, and
the