at her villa at Charlottenburg. She
was, as formerly, the "unmarried" daughter of the hautboy-player, the
favorite and friend of the crown prince; the same as two years previous,
when he presented her before the Bavarian campaign, with this house
and There was no change in her outward circumstances; her life passed
regularly and calmly. The once fresh and beautiful cheek had lost
somewhat of its youthful, roseate hue, and the smile of the ruby lips
was less haughty, and the warmth of those brilliant eyes was subdued.
This was the only perceptible difference wrought by the little vexations
and troubles incident to her position. She had found some bitter
drops in the golden goblet which the prince in his love pressed to her
lips--drops which were uncongenial to lips accustomed to the sweets of
life.

To-day she had awaited him at dinner, and had just received a very
friendly but laconic letter, excusing himself until the following
morning. This was an unpalatable drop. Wilhlemine paced back and forth
the solitary, gloomy path, at the foot of the garden, re-reading this
letter, and examining every word to search out its hidden meaning.

"They have brought this about," she murmured, tearing the letter into
little pieces, which lighted upon the shrubbery like butterflies. "Yes,
it is their work. They have sought by all possible means to draw him
into their power, and away from me. And they will succeed, as there
are two of them, and the princess sustains them; and I am alone,
unsupported. I am entirely alone--alone!"

"If you are alone, then, it is surely your own fault," said an earnest,
solemn voice, and at the same instant a tall form approached from the
shrubbery which bordered the side of the garden.

"Cagliostro!" shrieked Wilhelmine, shrinking terrified away. "Oh, mercy
upon me, it is Cagliostro!"

"Why are you so frightened, my daughter?" he asked, gently. "Why do you
withdraw from me, and cast down your eyes?"

"I thought you were in Courland," she stammered, confused.

"And whilst you thought me afar, you forgot your sacred oath and
holy duty," he replied, in a harsh, severe tone. "Oh my daughter, the
Invisibles weep and lament bitterly over you."

"I am curious to see these tears," said Wilhelmine, who had now
recovered her self-composure. "Do you think, Herr Magus, any of them
could be found in the eyes of Colonel Bischofswerder and his intimate
friend Woellner? Do you pretend that they also weep over m