ed his sad smile as he said, "You shrink from that," and
I braced myself to silence. The thing seemed to me altogether so
pitiable--and yet--and yet, I had sworn. But how had he lived out these
five terrible years?

By and by the luncheon bell rang. We all met once more. I felt every
hour more like one in a dream or in some impossible old romance. That
piece of outward death-like reserve, the countess, with the fire within
which she was forever spending her energy in attempts to quench; that
conglomeration of ice, pride, roughness and chivalry, the Herr Graf
himself; the thin, wooden-looking priest, the director of the Graefin;
that lovely picture of grace and bloom, with the dash of melancholy,
Sigmund; certainly it was the strangest company in which I had ever been
present. The countess sent me home in the afternoon, reminding me that I
was engaged to dine there with the others to-morrow. I managed to get a
word aside with Sigmund--to kiss him and tell him I should come to see
him again. Then I left them; interested, inthralled, fascinated with
them and their life, and--more in love with Eugen than ever.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

"WHERE IS MY FATHER?"

We had been bidden to dine at the schloss--Frau Mittendorf, Stella, and
I. In due time the doctor's new carriage was called out, and seated in
it we were driven to the great castle. With a renewed joy and awe I
looked at it by twilight, with the dusk of sunset veiling its woods and
turning the whole mass to the color of a deep earth-stain. Eugen's home:
there he had been born; as the child of such a race and in its
traditions he had been nurtured by that sad lady whom we were going to
see. I at least knew that he had acted, and was now acting, up to the
very standard of his high calling. The place has lost much of its
awfulness for me; it had become even friendly and lovely.

The dinner was necessarily a solemn one. I was looking out for Sigmund,
who, however, did not put in an appearance.

After dinner, when we were all assembled in a vast salon which the
numberless wax-lights did but partially and in the center illuminate, I
determined to make an effort at release from this seclusion, and asked
the countess (who had motioned me to a seat beside her) where Sigmund
was.

"He seemed a little languid and not inclined to come down-stairs," said
she. "I expect he is in the music-room--he generally finds his way
there."

"Oh, I wish you would allow me to go and see