ed the
stair, when the Jager called me back to his presence.

"'Art an only son?' asked the Count, for the first time
addressing me in the second person.

"I bowed.

"'And hast three sisters?'

"'Two, Herr General.'

"'Older or younger than thyself?'

'"Both older, sir.'

'"How have they been brought up? Have they learned thrift
and housecraft, or are they wasteful and reckless, as their
native country and their name would bespeak them?'

"'Our humble fortune is the best answer to that question,
sir.'

'"It is not, sirrah!' cried he, angrily. 'The spendthrift
habit survives every remnant of the state that gave it
birth, and the beggar can be as improvident as the prince.
Go; thou hast as much to learn of the world as of thy duty.
Head erect, sir; shoulders back; the right thumb more
forwards. If the rest of the battalion be like thee, I'll
give them some work on the Prater ere long.'

"A haughty wave of his hand now finished our interview, and,
once outside the door, I descended the stairs, a whole
flight at every bound, in terror lest anything should induce
him to recall me.

"And this is Uncle Stephen, Nelly,--this the great protector
we used to build our hopes upon, and flatter ourselves would
be a second father to us!

"When I came out into the street, I knew not which way to
turn. I dreaded the very sight of a comrade, lest he should
ask me about our meeting, what pocket-money he had given me,
and how soon I should be an officer. It was only when I saw
Adolf coming towards me that I remembered all about my debt
to him, of which I had not spoken one word to my uncle. I
ought to have told him so, frankly. Yes, Nelly, I can hear
the murmured displeasure with which you read my confession,
'that I could n't do it.' I was unequal to the effort, and
could not bring myself to destroy that whole fabric of
fictitious interest in which I had wrapped myself. What
would Adolf have thought of me when I said, I have neither
wealth nor station nor prospect,--as humble a soldier as the
sentry you see yonder? What would become of that romance of
life in which we have so often spent hours revelling in a
brilliant future, every incident of which grew up in our
united fancies, and seemed to assume rea