r rather than
accept his services. Here in the castle, with noise and motion on all
sides, there were no such obstacles to be overcome, and now the same
man, with his dark glance, stood opposite her, and never took his eyes
off her face.

"Will you remain much longer at Rodeck?" she asked, with the
conventional tone and manner usually accorded a chance acquaintance.

"Probably for a few weeks yet. As long as the duke is at Fuerstenstein,
Prince Adelsberg will not be apt to desert his hunting lodge. Later I
intend accompanying him to the capital."

"And there we shall hear of you as a poet, I presume?"

"Of me, my dear baroness?"

"I heard so at least, from the prince."

"O, that is only one of Egon's ideas," said Hartmut, lightly. "He has
taken it into his head to have my 'Arivana' brought out on the stage."

"'Arivana?' A singular title."

"It is an oriental name taken from an Indian legend, but its poetical
witchery made such an impression upon me that I could not resist the
temptation to create a drama from it."

"And the heroine of this drama, is she called 'Arivana?'" asked the
baroness.

"No, that is only the name of a sacred place of refuge during the middle
ages, upon which the scene of the drama was laid. The heroine's name
is--Ada."

Rojanow spoke the name half-aloud, with a certain hesitation, and gave
her a triumphant glance as he saw the same lowering of the head over the
flowers as when he first spoke; he came a few steps nearer now while he
continued:

"I heard the name for the first time on Indian ground, and it had for me
a strangely sweet sound, so I adopted it for my character, and now I
learn here that it is, in this country, but the abbreviation of a German
name."

"Of Adelheid--yes. I was always called Ada in my father's house. But it
is not at all remarkable that the same sounds are repeated in different
languages."

The words were spoken coldly, but the speaker did not raise her eyes
from the flowers with which her hand played.

"Not at all," agreed Hartmut. "It has often been a surprise to me to
hear the same fable repeated in different countries over and over again.
The coloring is different, to be sure, but the passion, the woe, the
happiness of our human race is alike in them all."

Adelheid shrugged her shoulders.

"I won't dispute over the matter with a poet, but doubt it,
notwithstanding. I think our German legends wear a different countenance
from the dreamy tales