later on, as though he were determined to deprive
himself of all defence, he proceeded to fall genuinely in love with my
capricious but very attractive sister. I was sorry for him, but I am not
aware that sympathy with people excludes amusement at them. I hope not,
for wide sympathies are a very desirable thing. William Adolphus,
looking round for a friend, honoured me with his confidence, and during
his visits to Artenberg used to consult me almost daily as to how he
might best propitiate his deity and wean her thoughts from that other
alliance which had so eclipsed his in its prospective brilliance.

"Girls are rather difficult to manage," he used to say to me ruefully.
"You'll know more about them in a few years, Augustin."

I knew much more about them than he did already. I am not boasting; but
people who learn only from experience do not allow for intuition.

"But I think she's beginning to get fonder of me," he would end, with an
uphill cheerfulness.

She was not beginning to get the least fonder of him; she was beginning
to be interested and excited in the stir of the marriage. There were so
many things to do and talk about, and so much desirable prominence and
publicity attaching to the affair, that she had less time for nursing
her dislike. The shock of him was passing over; he was falling into
focus with the rest of it; but she was not becoming in the least fonder
of him. I knew all this without the few words; with them he knew none of
it. It seems to be a mere accident who chances to be previous to truth,
who impervious.

In loneliness for me, in perturbation for poor William Adolphus, in I
know not what for Victoria the time passed on. There is but one incident
that stands out, naming against the gray of that monotony. The full
meaning of it I did not understand then, but now I know it better.

I was sitting alone in my dressing-room. I had sent Baptiste to bed, and
was reading a book with interest. Suddenly the door was opened
violently. Before I could even rise to my feet, Victoria--the door
slammed behind her--had thrown herself on her knees before me. She was
in her nightdress, barefooted, her hair loose and tumbled on her
shoulders; it seemed as though she had sprung up from her bed and run to
me. She caught my arms in her hands, and laid her face on my knees; she
said nothing, but sobbed violently with a terrible gasping rapidity.

"My God, what's the matter?" said I.

For a moment there was no