out having felt your pulse--I see by your whole appearance, that
you're on the direct road to remain so no longer. My best blessing on
your conversion, old boy, and better luck than has fallen to me."

"To you?"

"Well, you may suppose that during my visit yesterday, I made every
effort to appear not only the experienced physician, but also the
profound connoisseur in female hearts and female beauty. _Oleum et
operam_, my dear fellow! A statue, I tell you, a marble Sphinx would
have been more moved by my engaging manners. This young glacier in
Brussels lace remained as unapproachable as on the first evening, and
will you believe it: even my secret ally, Jean the Little, who ought to
be grateful--is a _rocher de bronze_ in everything that concerns his
mistress. The maid, my last hope, did not appear. So I'm just as wise
to-day as I was before, or rather still more stupid, for all my
experience and psychology have not helped me to understand our solitary
beauty, or make up my mind whether she belongs to the great world, the
_demi monde_, or no world at all."

"There can be no lack of people who will help you on the trail."

"Perhaps others know more," said the doctor, as he paused and cleaned
his spectacles. "Meantime, as I told you just now: I give her up. I
hereby relinquish her to you for the second time and forever, and swear
by yonder turrets, that it does not even cost me an effort. She's an
amphibious creature, a beautiful, faultless young serpent, just fit
to drive men mad. I prefer warm, red blood. I've discovered some
one--curiously enough in your house--a soubrette, who takes lessons
from your piano-playing young lady--not by any means so exquisite or
princess like as our sphinx, but to make amends--you know 'we don't cry
for the moon' unless we are incorrigible idealists and star gazers,
like certain people."

He laughingly shook hands with Edwin and entered the house before which
his carriage was waiting.

CHAPTER II.

Ever since the day mentioned in the last chapter, Edwin had become a
regular dinner guest at the house in Jaegerstrasse. He came every third
day, but could never be induced to encroach upon little Jean's share of
the remains of the meal any farther than he had done the first time. He
dined as it were symbolically, by dipping a biscuit in the dainty glass
which the young hostess filled with Spanish wine. If she asked him why
he would never gratify he