." The old man had made him swear that he
would have nothing more to do with his family. His recent visit to his
native village had reminded him of his pledge, and, although he
attached but little importance to an oath, he found it convenient and,
as he thought, praiseworthy to keep this one.

Through the intercession of the Steigeneck valet, his military
discharge was made out in the name of Wolfgang Rauhensteiner--surnamed
Baum. After that, he was simply known as Baum, and none knew that he
had ever borne another name. He was perfectly willing to forego his
chance of any bequests that might be left to him under the name of
Rauhensteiner.

He entered the service of the court, and his first position was as
groom to the prince, while at the university and during his subsequent
journey through Italy. As a precaution, he had gone home and obtained
an emigrant's passport, and afterward had dyed his hair black. In his
native village, all were under the impression that he had emigrated.

After he returned from his travels, he married the daughter of the
_valet de chambre_, and ever grew in favor with his masters. He was
discreet in all things, and would cough behind his raised left hand. He
was delighted with the name of "Baum." Such was his zeal to serve his
masters, that had it been possible he would, for their sakes, have
banished all harsh consonants from the language.

"That's settled," said Baum, as he sat on the box beside the postilion
and coughed behind his hand. "That's settled"--and his face assumed a
calm and determined expression as if he thought some one was watching
him. "I've emigrated to America. If I were there, I'd be dead and
buried as far as my family are concerned. Family, indeed! They'd only
ruin and beggar me, and always be at my heels. None of that for me!" He
watched the people, many of whom he knew, walking along the road. "What
a pitiful life these folks must lead--no pleasure the whole year round!
Once a week, on Sunday they get shaved and preached to, and the next
morning the squalor begins anew. Any one who has escaped, would be a
fool to think of returning to it again!"

Whilst Baum was thus recalling long-forgotten incidents of his past,
Walpurga was trying hard to repress her tears. It seemed as if some
higher power to whose sway she submitted herself had deprived her of
thought and feeling.

With wondering eyes she gazed at the brooks that hurried down from the
hills and then, as if t