very great misfortune?" asked the baron, laughing.

"There can be no greater to a girl in our circle. Whatever is unusual in
society is ridiculous, and the merest shade of eccentricity might ruin
her prospects. I am afraid she will never improve in the country."

"What would the child do away from us, and growing up with strangers?"

"And yet," said the baroness, earnestly, "it must come to this, though I
grieve to tell you so. She is rude to girls of her own age,
disrespectful to ladies, and, on the other hand, much too forward to
gentlemen."

"She will change," suggested the baron, after a pause.

"She will not change," returned the baroness, gently, "so long as she
leaps over hedge and ditch with her father, and even accompanies him out
hunting."

"I can not make up my mind to part with both children," said the
kind-hearted father; "it would be hard upon us, indeed, and hardest upon
you, you rigid matron!"

"Perhaps so," said the baroness, in a low voice, and her eyelids
moistened; "but we must not think of ourselves, only of their future
good."

The baron drew her closer to him, and said in a firm voice, "Listen,
Elizabeth; when in earlier days we looked forward to these, we had other
plans for Lenore's education. We resolved to spend the winter in town,
to give the child some finishing lessons, and then to introduce her into
the world. We will go this very winter to the capital."

The baroness looked up in amazement. "Dear, kind Oscar," cried she;
"but--forgive the question--will not this be a great sacrifice to you in
other respects?"

"No," was the cheerful reply; "I have plans which make it desirable for
me to spend the winter in town."

He told them, and the move was decided upon.

CHAPTER IV.

The sun was already low when the travelers reached the suburbs of the
capital. First came cottages, then villas, then the houses crowded
closer, and the dust and noise made our hero's heart sink within him. He
would soon have lost his way but for Veitel Itzig, who seemed to have a
preference for by-streets and narrow flag-stones. At length they reached
one of the main streets, where large houses, with pillared porticoes,
gay shops, and a well-dressed crowd, proclaimed the triumph of wealth
over poverty. Here they stopped before a lofty house. Itzig pointed out
the door with a certain degree of deference, and said, "Here you are,
and here you will soon get as proud as any of them; but, if you ever