d into greater power, the chords of the instrument
clanged louder and louder. When she came to the Strophe, which speaks
of the liberation of the Fatherland, she fixed her beaming eyes on
Euchar, a river of tears rushed down her cheeks, and she fell on her
knees. The hostess hurried to her, raised her up, and said, "No more,
no more, sweet darling child," and, taking her to a sofa, kissed her on
the brow and stroked her cheeks.

"She's out of her mind," Victorine whispered excitedly to Ludwig. "You
can't be in love with a mad creature! No, no. Tell me at once--on the
spot--that you can't possibly be in love with a maniac!"

"Good gracious, no! Of course not," Ludwig cried, considerably alarmed.
He found the greatest possible difficulty in properly adapting himself
to the excessively passionate manifestation which Victorine's affection
had taken to displaying.

While the hostess was refreshing Emanuela with sweet wine and biscuits
the valiant little guitarist, Biagio Cubas, who had sunk down in a
corner and was sobbing profusely, was served with a glass of genuine
Xeres, which he drained to the last drop with a gladsome "Donna, viva
hasta mil annos."

It may readily be supposed that the ladies attacked Emanuela with a
string of enquiries as to her country, circumstances, and so forth. The
hostess felt the painfulness of her position too keenly not to so
contrive that the firmly-closed circle should disperse itself into
several subsidiary eddies, in which every one, the piquet players
included, soon began to revolve. The consistorial president considered
the little Spanish girl a delightful, natty little creature; the only
thing was that somehow her dancing got into his own legs and made his
head feel as giddy as if he were waltzing with the devil in person. The
singing struck him as something quite out of the common; it delighted
him immensely.

Count Walther Puck was of quite a different opinion. Of her singing he
thought nothing at all; there was no such thing as a trillo in it all.
But he praised her dancing most warmly, and thought it quite delicious.
He said that his opinion on the subject was of some value, seeing that
at one time he had been as good a performer as the most celebrated
Maitres de ballet.

"Will you believe me, brother Consistorial-President," he said, "when I
tell you that in my youthful days, when I was a perfect model specimen
of nimbleness and vigour, I used to be able to spring the fiocco