nd busied herself in fishing it out again, while Sonnenkamp
added that he should read no more applications, until he had become
acquainted with the person recommended by Herr von Pranken.

"Is the man one of the nobility?" asked Frau Ceres.

"I do not know," replied Sonnenkamp, though he did know very well; "he
is a captain."

Frau Ceres, without saying anything, determined within herself to wait
until this question of nobility was settled.

Fraeulein Perini, feeling that she must speak for Frau Ceres as if
knowing what she thought, looked at her smilingly and observed, "One
seldom meets with so perfect a chevalier as the Baron von Pranken, at
least not in Germany; even more than the countess Bella he has----"

"I pray you," Herr Sonnenkamp here interposed, and his countenance had
the expression of a bull-dog trying to be tender, "I pray you not to
praise others at the expense of the countess; the ladies are bewitched
with Herr von Pranken, and for my part, I am with the countess Bella."

Frau Ceres gave an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, and
held the gold spoon pressed to her lips. He boasts of being fascinated,
she rightly thought, and it is only for the sake of making a
complimentary speech.

"But where can Roland be?" she suddenly exclaimed, and pushed against
the footstool so that the table shook, and everything upon it rattled.

The servant, entering, said that Roland would not come to breakfast, as
he did not wish to eat anything to-day, but to remain with Nora, who
had five puppies.

"Then tell him," rejoined Sonnenkamp, and his countenance flushed a
dark red even to the roots of his thin hair,--"then tell him that if he
does not instantly come, I will have all the five young ones
immediately drowned in the Rhine."

The servant hastened out, and a beautiful youth, clothed in blue
velvet, soon made his appearance; he was pale, and his finely cut lip
quivered. He had evidently gone through a hard struggle.

The boy was tall and slender, and his features were strikingly
beautiful, delicately regular as if chiselled. He took off his
jockey-cap, and showed his dark brown hair, well arranged in thick
curls about his forehead.

"Come to me," said his mother, "and kiss me, Roland, you look so pale;
is anything the matter with you?"

The boy kissed his mother, and, shaking his head as if denying that
anything ailed him, said in a voice hovering between a falsetto and a
bass, "I am as well as