aled letter. Fanny was inconsolable when Dame
Kramm confided to her its contents. She seriously believed that the bare
receiving such a letter had dishonoured her for ever and ever, and
despite the consolations of the two worthy old spinsters, she lay in a
fever the whole night.

Meanwhile the two old ladies were concocting a plan of vengeance against
the originator of all this trouble, and, believe me, ancient spinsters
know how to be revengeful! They left the back door of the garden wide
open, laid in wait till the cavalier had entered, and then closed it
again. Then they took it in turns to watch from the garret window how
the valiant young woman-hunter, the would-be seducer, who had himself
fallen into the pit, cooled his heels for hours in the mouse-trap they
had prepared for him, and when at last the rain began to fall, they went
to bed full of malicious joy, with the house-keys tucked snugly beneath
their pillows, and listening with delight to the rain pattering against
the window-panes.

This very considerable defeat only raised the ardour of the huntsman
still higher. What, to surrender to an inexperienced child! to be
worsted by a pair of old women! Why, _l'esprit de corps_ could not let
matters rest there; and Abellino, who was the leader of the band, took
upon himself to rehabilitate their _renommee_, as he called it, and with
proud self-confidence laid a bet to a very considerable amount that,
within twelve months' time, he would induce this beauty to quit her
paradise and come and live with him--naturally not as his consort.

On the following Sunday Fanny sang the "Stabat Mater Dolorosa" in the
cathedral sublimely, and the heart of every worshipper was filled with
devotion. Dame Kramm, decked out in all her Sabbath finery, was sitting
by one of the side altars, enjoying in her own way the child's beautiful
singing, when she heard an enraptured voice close beside her sigh, "Oh,
what splendid, what sublime singing!"

She immediately felt bound to turn round and see who it was that was
pouring forth the rapture of his soul so abundantly.

She saw before her a modestly attired gentleman, who wore mourning on
his hat, and had just dried a tear from his upturned eye. It was
Abellino Karpathy.

"She sings beautifully, sir, does she not?" said the good spinster,
proudly.

"Like an angel! Ah, madam, every time I hear such singing the tears
start from my eyes." And the sensitive youth put his handkerchief to