mistress of the house, the danger even to such a butterfly heart
as that of the young count, was not irresistible. Only her own husband,
a handsome young man with a delicate, thoughtful face, whose family
resemblance to the countess could not escape notice, seemed to be
perpetually under the spell of those childish blue eyes. At least his
own constantly turned toward them, and in the midst of his conversation
with others, he often paused to address some trivial question to his
wife. He held out his hand to Edwin in the most cordial manner, saying
that he had already heard a great deal about him and rejoiced in the
fortunate accident, which had at last procured him the pleasure of his
acquaintance. Toinette nodded to him with a strange smile, whose
meaning a third person would scarcely have guessed, but the young
princess received him with special graciousness, instantly proffered
him the empty seat beside her, and with all the coquetry of a spoiled
child made no concealment of the fact that she intended to fascinate
him as speedily as possible.

"You must stay with me a little while, Herr Doctor," she said stroking
the smooth head of one of the slender, tawny hounds, with her delicate
white hand, on which sparkled several beautiful rings. "Do you know
that I've scarcely ever, in all my life, been so curious about a new
acquaintance? You're the first live philosopher I ever saw. I've always
wanted--and perhaps dreaded a little--to know one, and now--"

"Now you see a very commonplace mortal, without cloven feet, even
without gloves, in which he could conceal his satanic claws, and who
only differs from other people in venturing, under the pressure of
necessity, to enter this noble society in the modest garb of a traveler
on a pedestrian tour."

"Whether you seem so commonplace to me," replied the beautiful blonde,
shaking back her curls and casting a laughing glance at her husband,
"is a doubtful question, which we'll not discuss here. Enough, you have
completely undeceived me."

"And what idea had you formed of a philosopher, Princess?"

"I had always imagined an elderly, yellow, thin man, with piercing
black eyes and scornfully compressed lips--something after the style of
Voltaire--a man in whose presence a cold shudder runs through one's
frame, and who rubs his hands with a gloomy laugh, partly from
malicious pleasure that he has deprived so many good, simple people of
the salvation of their souls, and partly be