rdins Mignons_ Stafforth
had selected it. On the morning after the theatricals Wilhelmine was
seated on one of the garden benches, and though her eyes were fixed on
the pages of a French translation of Barclay's satirical novel _Argenis_,
her thoughts were busy with the events of the previous evening. Her
reverie was interrupted by Madame de Ruth who arrived, as usual, in a
cloud of her own words. She embraced Wilhelmine affectionately,
exclaiming: 'Never was there so great a victory! One battle and the
country is ours! The hero at your feet, my dear! Did I not say that you
had a great future before you? Ah! the Geyling! Ha! ha! ha! what a face
she made when his Highness led you out on to the balcony, and I asked her
if she thought it convenable for you! Ha! ha! ha! she looked sour indeed,
and she screeched at me in her peahen voice: "Mademoiselle de Graevenitz
seems to be a lady of experience; she can guard her own young virtue, I
suppose!" "'Tis not her virtue, Madame," I said, with a surprised look
and the prim manner of a Pietist, "I know _that_ is safe with so devoted
a husband as Serenissimus, but I fear for her reputation! Ah! Madame, the
evil tongues of older women! and already no one here to-night can speak
of ought save Mademoiselle. But I assure you the theatricals are not even
mentioned, Madame! They can remember nothing save the Envoi and its
singer." O Wilhelmine! if you could have seen her face! I suffer, I
expire with laughter, when I think of it.' And Madame de Ruth laughed
till she really was almost suffocated, and was obliged to hold her hands
over her heaving sides.

Wilhelmine leaned her head on her hands. 'Poor Madame de Geyling!' she
said in a musing tone.

Madame de Ruth ceased laughing and looked at her piercingly. 'Poor Madame
de Geyling?' she exclaimed. 'But, my child! Ah!' and she caught
Wilhelmine by the wrist; 'you pity her? because she has lost the Duke's
affection? Why?' She paused a moment--reflected. 'Girl! you have fallen
in love with Serenissimus,' she whispered.

Wilhelmine sprang up--her cheeks aflame. It was true, and she knew it
herself then for the first time. She was angry, and yet there was an
immense gladness in her heart. Her eyes were wet, and she felt the pulses
throbbing in her temples. She was ashamed and yet gloriously proud.

Madame de Ruth watched her; at first, with smiling curiosity, then the
old woman's face softened, she took Wilhelmine's hand and said gently: