omer, a servant-maid, who had brought a cloak for her
mistress, and took charge of her album, sunshade, and large straw hat.

"Is it so late already?" she said, with a naive surprise, which left no
room for doubt even to Wilhelm's modesty.

"Certainly, fraulein," said the maid, pointing with her hand to the
distant mountain, whose peaks were already clothed with the orange hue
of twilight; then she looked alternately at her young mistress and the
strange gentleman, whose handsome face she inwardly noted.

"Do you think of making any stay here?" asked the young lady of
Wilhelm, who followed slowly.

"Yes, certainly," he answered at once.

"Then we may become good friends. My parents will be glad to make your
acquaintance. I did not tell you before that my father is Herr Ellrich."

As Wilhelm merely bowed, without seeming to recognize the name, she
said rather sharply, and slightly raising her voice:

"I thought as you came from Berlin you would be sure to know my
father's name--Councilor Ellrich, Vice-President of the 'Seehandlung.'"

The name and title made very little impression on Wilhelm, but his
politeness brought forth an "Ah!" which satisfied Fraulein Ellrich.
They left the ruins by an easy path which Wilhelm had not noticed
before, and walked together to the entrance of the hotel, where she
took leave of him by an inclination of her head. He betook himself to
his room in a dream, and while he recalled to his mind the picture of
her beautiful face, and the clear ring of her voice, he thought how
grateful he was to this chance, that not only had he become acquainted
with the girl, but that he had avoided in such a glorious fashion the
discomfort of a formal introduction. Also Wilhelm knew himself well,
and felt sure that, badly endowed as he was for forming new
acquaintances, he could never have become friends with Fraulein Ellrich
apart from the accident of his fall in the castle yard.

Dinner was served at separate tables where single guests might take it
as they pleased, and Wilhelm was absentminded and dreamy when he sat
down. He scarcely glanced at the large, cool dining-room, ornamented
with engravings of portraits of the Grand Dukes of Baden and their
wives. Six large windows looked into the valley of the Gutach with its
little town of Hornberg, and the mountains lying beyond. He hardly
noticed the rather silent people at the other tables, in which the
English element predominated. He had come in pu