ain. You will find me alone this afternoon in the
Swiss Cottage. Yours sincerely, MARIE.

I immediately replied, also in English, that I would call in the
afternoon.

The Swiss Cottage constituted a wing of the castle, which overlooked
the garden, and could be reached without going through the castle yard.
It was five o'clock when I passed through the garden and approached the
cottage. I repressed all emotion and prepared myself for a formal
meeting. I sought to quiet my good angel, and to assure her that this
lady had nothing to do with her. And yet I felt very uneasy, and my
good angel would not listen to counsel. Finally I took courage,
murmuring something to myself about the masquerade of life, and rapped
on the door, which stood ajar.

There was no one in the room except a lad whom I did not know, and who
likewise spoke English, and said the Countess would be present in a
moment. She then left, and I was alone, and had time to look about.

The walls of the room were of rose-chestnut, and over an openwork
trellis, a luxuriant broadleaved ivy twined around the whole room. All
the tables and chairs were of carved rose-chestnut. The floor was of
variegated woodwork. It gave me a curious sensation to see so much
that was familiar in the room. Many articles from our old play-room in
the castle were old friends, but the others were new, especially the
pictures, and yet they were the same as those in my University
room--the same portraits of Beethoven, Handel and Mendelssohn, as I had
selected--hung over the grand piano. In one corner I saw the Venus di
Milo, which I always regarded as the masterpiece of antiquity. On the
table were volumes of Dante, Shakspeare, Tauler's Sermons, the "German
Theology," Ruckert's Poems, Tennyson and Burns, and Carlyle's "Past and
Present,"--the very same books--all of which I had had but recently in
my hands. I was growing thoughtful, but I repressed my thoughts and
was just standing before the portrait of the deceased Princess, when
the door opened, and the same two servants, whom I had so often seen in
childhood, brought the Countess into the room upon her couch.

What a vision! She spoke not a word, and her countenance was as placid
as the sea, until the servants left the room. Then her eyes sought
me--the old, deep, unfathomable eyes. Her expression grew more
animated each instant. At last her whole face lit up, and she said:

"We are old friends--I be