h is little to my taste.'

Wilhelmine observed him narrowly. This man might prove useful, she
reflected, if she should desire a service, and if she were in a position
to pay for it. 'Tell me your name,' she said. He told her--Otto Pfahler,
and in return he begged her to tell him who she was; but she evaded the
question, and asked him concerning the history of Tuebingen. There is no
being on earth more easy to manage than an historical enthusiast who has
seldom the opportunity of expatiating on the legends which he loves; you
have but to turn his mind to the past, he will wander off therein, and
you need not even listen, provided you have the wit to nod in an
interested way at intervals. Pfahler talked on as he accompanied
Wilhelmine across the courtyard, and she was able to dismiss him with a
bow and a word of thanks for his historic anecdotes, without divulging
her identity.

When Wilhelmine regained the diligence, she found the horses already
harnessed and the driver climbing upon the box. She took her place in
the clumsy vehicle and recommenced her journey.

The road from Tuebingen to Rottenburg winds through the valley of the
Neckar for some ten miles. It is the usual South German high-road,
bordered by large fruit-trees; but to Wilhelmine, coming from the bleak
northern winter, it seemed as though she had been set down in Fairyland.
The white and pink blossoms of the fruit-trees, the strong high grass
whitened by the luxuriant growth of the cow-parsley, touched here and
there with the gold of the giant kingcups, and, as though the Master's
palette had been robbed of all its colours to complete this radiant
spring picture, the very earth of the vineyards below the fresh green of
the vine sprouts shone with the rich red brown of the Wirtemberg soil,
which is one more opulent charm added to the beauty of an indescribably
lovely spring country. Rottenburg lies in the centre of this valley; the
Neckar flows placidly half way round the small town. The diligence rolled
over a mediaeval bridge which spans the river, and Wilhelmine found
herself at the end of her tedious, rattling journey. She stepped out of
the coach and looked about her, expecting to see her brother.

The narrow street was empty, save for several black-gowned figures moving
slowly towards an enormous building, which flanked one side of a square
or market-place, at the end of the street.

As she stood a moment hesitating, she heard herself addressed fr