e
cares for the money? Those few dollars he can earn a hundred times
over, and most likely he'll get a rich wife into the bargain. If we
had children of our own, husband, our child should be an architect and
a professor too."

George was spoken well of in the cellar, and he was spoken well of
in the first floor. The old Count took upon himself to do that.

The pictures he had drawn in his childhood gave occasion for it.
But how did the conversation come to turn on these pictures? Why, they
had been talking of Russia and of Moscow, and thus mention was made of
the Kremlin, which little George had once drawn for Miss Emily. He had
drawn many pictures, but the Count especially remembered one, "Emily's
Castle," where she was to sleep, and to dance, and to play at
receiving guests.

"The Professor was a true man," said the Count, "and would be a
privy councillor before he died, it was not at all unlikely; and he
might build a real castle for the young lady before that time came:
why not?"

"That was a strange jest," remarked the General's lady, when the
Count had gone away. The General shook his head thoughtfully, and went
out for a ride, with his groom behind him at a proper distance, and he
sat more stiffly than ever on his high horse.

It was Emily's birthday. Flowers, books, letters, and visiting
cards came pouring in. The General's lady kissed her on the mouth, and
the General kissed her on the forehead; they were affectionate
parents, and they and Emily had to receive grand visitors, two of
the Princes. They talked of balls and theatres, of diplomatic
missions, of the government of empires and nations; and then they
spoke of talent, native talent; and so the discourse turned upon the
young architect.

"He is building up an immortality for himself," said one, "and
he will certainly build his way into one of our first families."

"One of our first families!" repeated the General and afterwards
the General's lady; "what is meant by one of our first families?"

"I know for whom it was intended," said the General's lady, "but I
shall not say it. I don't think it. Heaven disposes, but I shall be
astonished."

"I am astonished also!" said the General. "I haven't an idea in my
head!" And he fell into a reverie, waiting for ideas.

There is a power, a nameless power, in the possession of favor
from above, the favor of Providence, and this favor little George had.
But we are forgetting the birthday.

Emily's room