ness was
surprising and really terrible. A horrid shuddering came over me as the
well-known features menaced me from out the strange form; I felt as if
some evil spirit stretched out his claws after me from the beautiful
face. The devil take conscience! It has often embittered my life, and
now, since the affair in the Hildebrand, it will no longer let me have
any real satisfaction."

There was a sudden rustling behind the glass door, through which Bona
had disappeared, and to which Francis had turned his back. Glancing
round fearfully to the place whence the noise came, he saw the magic
image of the fair stranger, and he shook and shuddered as if in the
frosts of fever.--"Heaven be merciful to me!" he cried,--clapped his
hands before his eyes, and rushed out through another door into the
garden.

No sooner had Francis left the green-house than Bona entered it through
the side-door. For some time she looked after him as he ran along the
principal alley of the garden, while her beautiful eyes sparkled with
silent wrath, her right hand pressed itself violently on her throbbing
bosom, as if she wished to keep down its heavings by force, and
thoughts of evil seemed to furrow her lovely forehead. At this instant
came tripping along from a side walk the knight, Rasselwitz, in all his
bravery, as with hope and desire on his face he bent his way towards
the green-house. The moment Bona perceived him, the furrows smoothed
themselves upon her brow, her eyes lost their fierceness, a gentle
longing spread over her features, and she flung herself in a
picturesque attitude on the garden-seat beneath the oleander.
Rasselwitz entering, said in the softest tone, "I owe it to my good
fortune, noble lady, that I find you here in this confidential
loneliness, and can paint the feelings which glow towards you in my
heart, without being interrupted by troublesome witnesses."

With angelic kindness Bona presented her hand to him, and drew him down
beside her, gently murmuring, "You have often before protested your
love to me, Herr von Rasselwitz, and I would willingly believe in it,
but mens' hearts are more treacherous than the treacherous waves of the
sea: Who would trust to them? who would answer to me for the
continuance of the inclination which you fancy you feel for me--perhaps
really feel at the present moment?"

Rasselwitz felt himself transported into the third heaven by this
accost, for she had never addressed him so before; and