nd. Her glance was
fixed eagerly upon the princess; she noticed her every movement, her
every look; she watched every smile, every quiver of her lip. Her
husband stood at her side--he had been there for some time, greeting her
in low, tender words--but Louise did not attend to him. She seemed not
to see him; her whole soul was in her eyes, and they were occupied with
the princess. Suddenly she turns her sparkling eyes upon her husband
and murmurs. "He is lost! His laurels will be insufficient to cover the
brand which from to-day on will glow upon his brow!" Her husband looked
at her in amazement.

"Is this your welcome, after seven long years of absence, Louise?" said
he, sadly.

She laid her hand hastily upon his arm, saying, "Hush, hush!" Once more
she gazed at the princess, who was talking and laughing gayly with
her husband and Count Kalkreuth. "How her cheeks glow, and what tender
glances she throws him!" murmured Louise. "Ah! the prince has fallen a
victim to his ingenuousness! Verily, he is again praising the merits of
his friend. He tells her how Kalkreuth saved his life--how he received
the blow meant for his own head. Poor prince! You will pay dearly for
the wound Kalkreuth received for you. I said, and I repeat it--he is
lost!"

Her husband looked at her as if he feared she had gone mad during his
absence. "Of whom do you speak, Louise?" whispered he. "What do you
mean? Will you not speak one word of welcome to me to convince me that
you know me--that I have not become a stranger to you?" The princess now
arose from her seat, and leaning on her husband's arm she passed through
the room, talking merrily with Count Kalkreuth at her side. "They have
gone to the conservatory," said Louise, grasping her husband's arm.
"We will also go and find some quiet, deserted place where we can talk
undisturbed."

CHAPTER III. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.

Louise du Trouffle drew her husband onward, and they both followed
silently the great crowd which was now entering the splendidly
illuminated conservatories. The view offered to the eye was superb.
You seemed to be suddenly transplanted as if by magic from the stiff,
ceremonious court-saloons into the fresh, fragrant, blooming world of
nature. You breathed with rapture the odor of those rare and lovely
flowers which were arranged in picturesque order between the evergreen
myrtles and oranges. The windows, and indeed the ceiling were entirely
covered with vines, and s