ought of Wollmershain and Frau von Trautenau; but she put it
resolutely from her: she could not, she dared not; she had no claim on
any one there, and here she belonged to her father.

Ah, how her poor bleeding heart ached! If she could only weep, perhaps
it would help to lighten the weary burden which was crushing her to the
earth; but no relieving tears would come to her burning eyes. At last
she sat down on a ledge of the wall near the doorway, to rest in
solitude a little while, and to try to compose herself before going
into the house. It had now ceased raining, and a dimly-burning lantern
which was hung near by dispelled the darkness in a measure, and threw
its uncertain rays over the wet stones of the yard, and over Carmen's
drooping figure. The streets were perfectly quiet, the water dripped
monotonously from the roofs, now and then the footsteps of some
solitary passer-by echoed faintly on the ear, followed by the deep
silence, broken only by the falling drops. There was something
soothing in this great hush of nature; and the gentle dripping seemed
like a loving voice singing some tired child to sleep; Carmen felt as
if drawn within a magic circle. For a long time she sat there, till at
last she heard a step approaching from the distance, and a man made his
appearance in the light of the lantern. Something sparkled and
glittered on his coat; and as he strode along with quick, firm steps,
the spurs on his boots clanked. Carmen saw and heard it all as if in
her sleep. Still motionless, she sat staring out into the darkness,
and her heart, her poor heart, seemed dead and cold. There! did not
the stranger enter the portico? He certainly did; and, as his figure
became more distinctly discernible in the uncertain light, her pulses
began to throb violently--those pulses which she a moment ago believed
would never again beat with lively emotion. She leaned back closer to
the wall, and stared at the figure with wide-opened eyes. As the man
ascended the steps and saw the shrinking form close against the wall,
he started, hesitated a moment, and then, putting his hand to his cap
in greeting, said joyfully: "Fraulein Carmen, can it really be you? I
have come, although it is so late, to greet you, and make the
acquaintance of your father, as I am here only for to-night, and leave
early in the morning. Adele told me I would find you here, in the
house with the portico." He spoke with a glad tone and put out h