r hereafter, even were such to be found by such
means, would she consent to become the wife of the man proposed to
her. Madame Staubach, finding that no spoken reply was given to her
questions, at last proceeded from generalities to the special case
which she had under her consideration. "Linda," she said, "I trust
you will consent to become the wife of this excellent man." Linda's
face became very hard, but still she said nothing. "The danger of
which I have spoken is close upon you. You must feel it to be so. A
youth, perhaps the most notorious in all Nuremberg for wickedness--"

"No, aunt; no."

"I say yes; and this youth is spoken of openly as your lover."

"No one has a right to say so."

"It is said, and he has so addressed himself to your own ears. You
have confessed it. Tell me that you will do as I would have you,
and then I shall know that you are safe. Then I will trust you in
everything, for I shall be sure that it will be well with you. Linda,
shall it be so?"

"It shall not be so, aunt Charlotte."

"Is it thus you answer me?"

"Nothing shall make me marry a man whom I hate."

"Hate him! Oh, Linda."

"Nothing shall make me marry a man whom I cannot love."

"You fancy, then, that you love that reprobate?" Linda was silent.
"Is it so? Tell me. I have a right to demand an answer to that
question."

"I do love him," said Linda. Using the moment for reflection allowed
to her as best she could, she thought that she saw the best means of
escape in this avowal. Surely her aunt would not press her to marry
one man when she had declared that she loved another.

"Then, indeed, you are a castaway."

"I am no castaway, aunt Charlotte," said Linda, rising to her feet.
"Nor will I remain here, even with you, to be so called. I have done
nothing to deserve it. If you will cease to press upon me this odious
scheme, I will do nothing to disgrace either myself or you; but if I
am perplexed by Herr Steinmarc and his suit, I will not answer for
the consequences." Then she turned her back upon her aunt and walked
slowly out of the room.

On that very evening Peter came to Linda while she was standing alone
at the kitchen window. Tetchen was out of the house, and Linda had
escaped from the parlour as soon as the hour arrived at which in
those days Steinmarc was wont to seat himself in her aunt's presence
and slowly light his huge meerschaum pipe. But on this occasion he
followed her into the kitchen, and Linda