rosperous and sympathetic
relatives in Milwaukee, and both times returned at the passionate
solicitations of her parents; not only outraged in their dearest
conventions but anxious to be rid of the small rodent born of the union.

Her last return had been but a month before the outbreak of the war, and
Hans Brandt, to his growling disgust, was promptly swept off by the
searching German broom. He was as much in love with his wife as a man so
meagerly equipped in all but national conceit may be, for Mimi was a
handsome girl with a buxom but graceful figure, and a laughing face
whose golden brown eyes sparkled with the pure fun of living when they
were not somber with disgust and rebellion.

Gisela had always looked upon Heloise von Erkel as the most tragic
figure in Munich. In appearance she had distinction rather than beauty,
for although her features were delicate her complexion and hair were
faded and there were faint lines on her charming face. She was a blonde
of the French type, and her light figure, although indifferently carried
and a stranger to gowns, possessed an indefinable elegance.

Under heaven knew what impulse of romantic madness Frau von Erkel, then
Heloise d'Oremont, had married a young German officer, and although both
fancied themselves deeply in love the breach began shortly after they
had settled to the routine life of the frontier town where he was
stationed, and had widened rapidly in spite of the fact that she
produced six children as automatically as the most devoted (and
detested) hausfrau of her acquaintance. Shortly after the birth of
Marie, the breach became a chasm, for the chocolate firm, inherited
through her bourgeoise mother and the source of Frau von Erkel's wealth,
failed, and the haughty Bavarian aristocrat was forced to keep up his
position in the army and maintain his growing family on an income,
accruing from chocolate investments, that should have been reserved for
pleasure alone.

However, there was help for it. He renounced cards and such other costly
diversions as was possible without lowering his standard as a gentleman
and an officer, and of course the real privation was borne by the women
of the family. He even ceased to rage at his wife, for she merely sat in
her favorite chair, her hands folded, and looked at him with her subtle
ironic smile.

When Gisela met them, Frau von Erkel and her three daughters (all in
their late twenties and unmarried) were living in a ding