in Sorrento. They were there for a year or two, and you might have
stood upon the Karlsberg on your own logs, my dear sir, and looked down
into the garden, and seen Mademoiselle Felizitas walking about in funny
old-fashioned clothes, like those in the pictures there. You needn't
have taken the trouble to go to Italy! Afterwards the old man---- But
that's a painful story.'

"'Let me hear it,' said Traugott in a hollow voice.

"'Well,' continued the broker, 'young Mr. Brandstetter came back from
England and fell in love with Mademoiselle Felizitas; and once when he
found her in the garden, he fell romantically on his knees to her and
vowed he would marry her, and free her from the tyrannical slavery her
father kept her in. The old man was close by, though they didn't see
him; and as soon as ever Felizitas said, "I will be yours," he tumbled
down, with a hollow cry, as dead as a herring, sir! They say he looked
awful, all blue and bloody, for he had broken a blood-vessel somehow or
other. After that, Mademoiselle Felizitas couldn't endure young Mr.
Brandstetter, so she married Mr. Mathesius, the police magistrate at
Marienwerder. You'll go and call upon her, of course, for the sake of
old times. Marienwerder isn't quite so far away as Sorrento in Italy.
She's quite well, and very happy, They've got several nice children.'

"Traugott hastened away, silent and benumbed. This outcome of his
adventure filled him with awe and terror.

"'Oh no!' he cried. 'This is not she, this is not she--not Felizitas,
the angelic creature who kindled that eternal love and longing in my
soul! whom I went in search of to a far-off country, always and always
seeing her dear image before me like my star of fortune, beaming and
glowing in sweet hope! Felizitas! Mrs. Mathesius, wife of Mathesius,
the police magistrate. Ha! ha! ha! Mrs. Mathesius!'

"He laughed loud and bitterly in the wildness of his grief; and, as of
old, he went out at the Olivaer Gate and up on to the Karlsberg. He
looked down into the grounds of Sorrento: the tears rolled down his
cheeks. 'Ah!' he cried, 'how deeply, how incurably deeply, thou Eternal
Power that rulest all things, does thy bitter scorn and mockery wound
the tender hearts of poor humanity! But, no, no; why should the child,
who puts his hands into the fire instead of enjoying its warmth and
brightness, complain? Destiny was at work with me, visibly; but my
feeble eyes could not see; and, in my audacity, I th