But now--now that her aunt had spoken to her of that horrid plan in
reference to Peter Steinmarc, what would Ludovic Valcarm be to her?
Not that he could ever have been anything. She knew that, and had
known it from the first, when she had been unable to answer him with
the scorn which his words had deserved. How could such a one as she
be mated with a man so unsuited to her aunt's tastes, to her own
modes of life, as Ludovic Valcarm? And yet she could have wished
that it might be otherwise. For a moment once,--perhaps for moments
more than once,--there had been ideas that no mission could be more
fitting for such a one as she than that of bringing back to the right
path such a young man as Ludovic Valcarm. But then,--how to begin to
bring a young man back? She knew that she would not be allowed to
accept his love; and now,--now that the horrid plan had been proposed
to her, any such scheme was more impracticable, more impossible than
ever. Ah, how she hated Peter Steinmarc as she thought of all this!

For four or five days after this, not a word was said to Linda by
any one on the hated subject. She kept out of Peter Steinmarc's way
as well as she could, and made herself busy through the house with
an almost frantic energy. She was very good to her aunt, doing
every behest that was put upon her, and going through her religious
services with a zeal which almost seemed to signify that she liked
them. She did not leave the house once except in her aunt's company,
and restrained herself even from leaning over the wicket-gate and
listening to the voice of Fanny Heisse. There were moments during
these days in which she thought that her opposition to her aunt's
plan had had the desired effect, and that she was not to be driven
mad by the courtship of Peter Steinmarc. Surely five days would not
have elapsed without a word had not the plan been deserted. If that
were the case, how good would she be! If that were the case, she
would resolve, on her aunt's behalf, to be very scornful to Ludovic
Valcarm.

But though she had never gone outside the house without her aunt,
though she had never even leaned on the front wicket, yet she had
seen Ludovic. It had been no fault of hers that he had spied her from
the Ruden Platz, and had kissed his hand to her, and had made a sign
to her which she had only half understood,--by which she had thought
that he had meant to imply that he would come to her soon. All this
came from no fault o