y kind. It
was all right to me, and I enjoyed it immensely. I was in a state of
mind in which I verily believe I should have enjoyed eating a plate of
porridge for supper, or a dish of sauerkraut for dinner.

The subject for complacency and contemplation in Frau Mittendorf's life
was her intimacy with the von Rothenfels family, whose great, dark old
schloss, or rather, a portion of it, looking grimly over its woods, she
pointed out to me from the windows of her salon. I looked somewhat
curiously at it, chiefly because Eugen had mentioned it, and also
because it was such a stern, imposing old pile. It was built of red
stone, and stood upon red-stone foundations. Red were the rocks of this
country, and hence its name, "Rothen-fels," the red rocks. Woods, also
dark, but now ablaze with the last fiery autumn tints, billowed beneath
it; on the other side, said Frau Mittendorf, was a great plateau covered
with large trees, intersected by long, straight avenues. She would take
us to look at it; the Graefin von Rothenfels was a great friend of hers.

She was entertaining us with stories to prove the great regard and
respect of the countess for her (Frau Mittendorf) on the morning after
our arrival, while I was longing to go out and stroll along some of
those pleasant breezy upland roads, or explore the sleepy, quaint old
town below.

Upon her narrative came an interruption. A servant threw open the door
very wide, announcing the Graefin von Rothenfels. Frau Mittendorf rose in
a tremulous hurry and flutter to greet her noble guest, and then
introduced us to her.

A tall, melancholy, meager-looking woman,--far past youth--on the very
confines of middle age, with iron-gray hair banded across a stern,
much-lined brow. Colorless features of a strong, large, not unhandsome
type from which all liveliness and vivacity had long since fled. A stern
mouth--steady, lusterless, severe eyes, a dignity--yes, even a majesty
of mien which she did not attempt to soften into graciousness; black,
trailing draperies; a haughty pride of movement.

Such was the first impression made upon me by Hildegarde, Countess of
Rothenfels--a forbidding, if grand figure--aristocrat in every line;
utterly alien and apart, I thought, from me and every feeling of mine.

But on looking again the human element was found in the deeply planted
sadness which no reserve pride could conceal. Sad the eyes, sad the
mouth; she was all sad together--and not without reas