oon," she said at last; "but when
wouldn't it have been too soon? A thousand congratulations, my dear
Felix--pardon me, the Herr Baron doesn't come glibly to me to-day--and
now, make haste, so as to see a little of the illumination--it is
magnificent--we have just come from it, and Irene certainly didn't
travel five hundred miles just to sit here in the dark while all Munich
swims in a sea of light. Besides, she saw very little of the review
this morning, for she only had eyes for a single defender of the
Fatherland. You will have seen all you want to in half an hour, and
then I invite the ladies and gentlemen to assemble once more under my
humble roof and partake of a modest cup of tea. Schnetz will also
appear, and your uncle, the baron, has solemnly pledged me his word not
to let himself be dragged into any champagne-supper to-day. It's a pity
Rosenbusch isn't well enough yet! The poor fellow has only a lame leg,
and an elderly girl as a wife, as a reward for all his bravery. But
don't you think he bears his lot with incredible fortitude?"

The lights of the festival had long been extinguished, and the last
joyous echo of this happy day had died out, when Felix entered the
little room, which was the only one still to be had in the whole great
hotel. Even now he could not think of such a thing as sleep. He sat
down on the bed and drew from his pocket a letter which Irene had given
him when he parted from her before her hotel, and gazed--with what
overmastering emotion!--upon the handwriting of the friend whom he had
believed to be lost to him forever, and whom this day restored to him
again, to add to all its other unexpected blessings. He read the
following lines:

"Let this letter bear you our congratulations, dear old friend. When it
comes into your hands the last shadow will have been lifted from your
life. You will hear enough about us from the lips of your beloved, to
satisfy you of our happiness. But, possibly, there may be one subject
concerning which she may feel a delicacy about speaking; our happiness
is now secure from all external interruption. A few weeks ago a legal
divorce was effected, and our union, which certainly stood in no need
of a certificate to cement it closer, has now, for the children's sake,
received the sanction of the law. The unhappy woman herself lent a hand
in bringing this about. She is in Athens, where a rich Englishman has
been paying his court to her. The last spark of ill-will