be spoken of; and immediately
after dinner they went to look at what was going on. Ottilie withdrew,
under pretence of having household matters to look to; in reality, it
was to set to work again at the transcribing. The Count fell into
conversation with the Captain, and Charlotte afterward joined them. When
they were at the summit of the height, the Captain good-naturedly ran
back to fetch the plan, and in his absence the Count said to Charlotte:

"He is an exceedingly pleasing person. He is very well informed, and his
knowledge is always ready. His practical power, too, seems methodical
and vigorous. What he is doing here would be of great importance in some
higher sphere."

Charlotte listened to the Captain's praises with an inward delight. She
collected herself, however, and composedly and clearly confirmed what
the Count had said. But she was not a little startled when he continued:

"This acquaintance falls most opportunely for me. I know of a situation
for which he is perfectly suited, and I shall be doing the greatest
favor to a friend of mine, a man of high rank, by recommending to him a
person who is so exactly everything which he desires."

Charlotte felt as if a thunder-stroke had fallen on her. The Count did
not observe it: women, being accustomed at all times to hold themselves
in restraint, are always able, even in the most extraordinary cases, to
maintain an apparent composure; but she heard not a word more of what
the Count said, though he went on speaking.

"When I have made up my mind upon a thing," he added, "I am quick about
it. I have put my letter together already in my head, and I shall write
it immediately. You can find me some messenger who can ride off with it
this evening."

Charlotte was suffering agonies. Startled with the proposal, and shocked
at herself, she was unable to utter a word. Happily, the Count continued
talking of his plans for the Captain, the desirableness of which was
only too apparent to Charlotte.

It was time that the Captain returned. He came up and unrolled his
design before the Count. But with what changed eyes Charlotte now looked
at the friend whom she was to lose. In her necessity, she bowed and
turned away, and hurried down to the summer-house. Before she was half
way there, the tears were streaming from her eyes, and she flung herself
into the narrow room in the little hermitage, and gave herself up to an
agony, a passion, a despair, of the possibility of