lusion, and Susanna was silent and looked at Anna Maria with, all at
once, a strange sparkle in her eyes. Of her relation to Klaus no mention
had ever been made in the presence of a stranger, according to
agreement; she herself had the least thought of betraying herself by a
hasty utterance. Once I had asked if Stuermer might not be initiated. But
Anna Maria declared that Klaus would not wish it, so I kept still.

"Susanna rarely spoke of her absent lover; but Isa put two letters
to him into the mail-bag, regularly, every week, in answer to
his frequent, longing epistles. In her room, meanwhile, all
manner of presents accumulated, which Klaus bought for her in
Breslau--knick-knacks, ornaments, fans, and such useless things, which I
could never think of in connection with Anna Maria. Klaus had never
cared for such things before, either, and therefore did not exactly
understand choosing them, and many an old, unsalable article may have
been put into his hand as the latest novelty for the sake of heavy
money. Susanna had a remarkably well-developed sense of beauty, and the
charming way of women, of wearing a thing out of devotion because a
beloved hand gave it, seemed totally unknown to her. But she exulted
aloud when she discovered a little old lace handkerchief which Anna
Maria had found, in rummaging in a long-unopened chest; and in the
evening, when Stuermer came, she wore it daintily knotted about her neck,
and in the delicate yellowish lace placed the last red asters from the
garden.

"Anna Maria was more serious and chary of words after every visit from
Stuermer; but an unmistakable expression of quiet, inward happiness lay
on her proud face. She reminded me daily, more and more, of that Anna
Maria who once, on a stormy spring day, came into my room, fell on my
neck, and almost--oh, if it had only happened!--confided to me the
secret in her young heart. Unspeakably pleasing she appeared, in her
quiet happiness, beside that young, childish bride-elect, who was never
still, who now laughed more wildly than a kobold, and the next minute
wept enough to move a stone to pity. Yes, Susanna Mattoni could laugh
and cry like scarce another human being.

"Often I saw Anna Maria standing in the twilight under the old linden;
motionless, she looked over yonder, where, in the evening haze, the
dark, gabled roofs of Dambitz emerged from the trees of the park. She
had fallen into a dreamy state, out of which she would suddenly st