oulders was by no means pleasing in appearance. Wilhelm must
certainly have looked anything but well-clad, for as he stood in old
Fraulein Van Hoogstraten's spacious, stately hall, the steward Belotti
received him as patronizingly as if he were a beggar.

But the Neopolitan, in whose mouth the vigorous Dutch sounded like the
rattling in the throat of a chilled singer, speedily took a different
tone when Wilhelm, in excellent Italian, quietly explained the object of
his visit. Nay, at the sweet accents of his native tongue, the servant's
repellent demeanor melted into friendly, eager welcome. He was beginning
to speak of his home to Wilhelm, but the musician made him curt replies
and asked him to get his cloak.

Belotti now led him courteously into a small room at the side of the
great hall, took off his cloak, and then went upstairs. As minute after
minute passed, until at last a whole quarter of an hour elapsed, and
neither servant nor cloak appeared, the young man lost his patience,
though it was not easily disturbed, and when the door at last opened
serious peril threatened the leaden panes on which he was drumming
loudly with his fingers. Wilhelm doubtless heard it, yet he drummed with
redoubled vehemence, to show the Italian that the time was growing long
to him. But he hastily withdrew his fingers from the glass, for a girl's
musical voice said behind him in excellent Dutch:

"Have you finished your war-song, sir? Belotti is bringing your cloak."

Wilhelm had turned and was gazing in silent bewilderment into the face
of the young noblewoman, who stood directly in front of him. These
features were not unfamiliar, and yet--years do not make even a goddess
younger, and mortals increase in height and don't grow smaller; but the
lady whom he thought he saw before him, whom he had known well in the
eternal city and never forgotten, had been older and taller than the
young girl, who so strikingly resembled her and seemed to take little
pleasure in the young man's surprised yet inquiring glance. With a
haughty gesture she beckoned to the steward, saying in Italian:

"Give the gentleman his cloak, Belotti, and tell him I came to beg him
to pardon your forgetfulness."

With these words Henrica Van Hoogstraten turned towards the door, but
Wilhelm took two hasty strides after her, exclaiming:

"Not yet, not yet, Fraulein! I am the one to apologize. But if you have
ever been amazed by a resemblance--"

"Anything but lo