of certain documents which he believed
to be in the possession of her uncle. And for these documents she, with
his permission, had made application. She had at any rate discovered
that they certainly were at the office in the Ross Markt. So much she
had learned from Ziska; and so much, at any rate, she was bound to make
known to her lover. And, moreover, since she had seen him she had told
all her relatives of her engagement. They all knew now that she loved
the Jew, and that she had resolved to marry him; and of this also it
was her duty to give him tidings. The result of her communication to
her father and her relatives in the Windberg-gasse had been by no means
so terrible as she had anticipated. The heavens and the earth had not
as yet shown any symptoms of coming together. Her aunt, indeed, had
been very angry; and Lotta Luxa and Souchey had told her that such a
marriage would not be allowed. Ziska, too, had said some sharp words;
and her father, for the first day or two, had expostulated. But the
threats had been weak threats, and she did not find herself to be
annihilated--indeed, hardly to be oppressed--by the scolding of any
of them. What the priest might say she had not yet experienced; but
opposition from other quarters had not as yet come upon her in any
form that was not endurable. Her aunt had intended to consume her with
wrath, but Nina had not found herself to be consumed. All this it was
necessary that she should tell to Anton Trendellsohn. It was grievous
to her that it should be always her lot to go to her lover, and that he
should never--almost never--be able to seek her. It would in truth be
never now, unless she could induce her father to receive Anton openly
as his acknowledged future son-in-law; and she could hardly hope that
her father would yield so far as that. Other girls, she knew, stayed
till their lovers came to them, or met them abroad in public places--at
the gardens and music-halls, or perhaps at church; but no such joys as
these were within reach of Nina. The public gardens, indeed, were open
to her and to Anton Trendellsohn as they were to others; but she knew
that she would not dare to be seen in public with her Jew lover till
the thing was done and she and the Jew had become man and wife. On this
occasion, before she left her home, she was careful to tell her father
where she was going. "Have you any message to the Trendellsohns?" she
asked.

"So you are going there again?" her fat