e's nothing to be
anxious about now, Fraeulein. It's all well over."

The young singer gave a deep sigh, as she said: "I thank you, Herr von
Eschenhagen, I thank you from my heart. You have risked your life on my
account, and I cannot be too grateful."

"There is no occasion for gratitude, Fraeulein, but as I have faced a
pistol on your account, you must, at least accept a little memento of
the occasion. You must not trample this peace offering under your feet."

As he spoke he unwrapped--somewhat awkwardly, for he had only his left
hand--a full blown rose and two buds from its cover of tissue paper.

Marietta's eyes sank and a flush of shame o'erspread her features as she
took the flowers, without speaking, and pinned them on her breast; then
she reached out her hand, as if begging for forgiveness; it was grasped
at once.

"You are accustomed to receive gifts of flowers," he said almost
apologetically. "I hear from all sides how much homage is paid you."

The young girl smiled, but smiled more sadly than joyfully.

"You have seen what manner of homage is done me at times," she said.
"Count Westerburg is not the first against whom I have had to contend.
So many men consider it perfectly legitimate to attempt liberties with
any one who appears on the stage, and sometimes even those with whom one
associates are not--believe me, Herr von Eschenhagen, my lot is not
always an enviable one."

Willibald appeared surprised.

"Not an enviable one? Why, I thought you loved your profession, heart
and soul, and that nothing could induce you to leave it."

"Certainly, I love it; but I am realizing each day, more and more, with
how much that is hard and bitter I have to contend. My teacher,
Professor Marani, says 'one must mount with the wings of an eagle, then
he leaves all the dross far beneath him.' I think he is right, but I am
not an eagle, I am only what my dear grandfather has often called me, 'a
singing bird,' with nothing but my voice, and no strength to mount to
dizzy heights. The critics have said before now that my acting lacked
fire and strength, and I feel myself that I have little dramatic talent.
I can only sing, and I'd much rather do that at home in our own green
woods, than here in a golden cage."

The girl's voice had a worn, discouraged ring, very unusual in one so
full of vivacity. The recent occurrence had brought her unprotected
position before her most forcibly, and unconsciously she opened her
h