urroundings of the palace, from its broad terraces to its jeweled
fountains and well-nigh tropical gardens, suggest luxury, gaiety,
pleasure.

But, on the opposite bank of the Moemmelsee is huddled the dark shape
of an ancient fortified stronghold, begun no one remembers how many
centuries ago by the first Count von Breitstein. Generation following
generation, the men of that family completed the work, until nowadays
it is difficult to know where the rock ends, and the castle begins.
There, like a dragon squatting on the coils of its own tail, the dark
mass is poised, its deep-set window-eyes glaring across the bright
water at the white splendor of Lyndalberg, like the malevolent stare
of the monster waiting to spring upon and devour a fair young maiden.

The moods of Baroness von Lyndal concerning grim old Schloss
Breitstein had varied many times during her years of residence by the
lake. Sometimes she pleased herself by reflecting that the great man
who had slighted her lived in less luxury than she had attained by her
excellent marriage. Again, the thought of the ancient lineage of the
present Count von Breitstein filled her with envy; and oftener than
all, the feeling that the "old grizzly bear" could crouch in his den
and watch sneeringly everything which happened at Lyndalberg got upon
the lady's nerves. She could have screamed and shaken her fist at the
dark mass of rock and stone across the water. But after the birthday
ball and during the first days of Leopold's visit at her house, she
often threw a whimsical glance at the grim silhouette against the
northern sky, and smiled.

"Can you see, old bear?" she would ask, gayly. "Are you spying over
there? Do you think yourself all-wise and all-powerful? Do you see
what's in my mind now, and do you guess partly why I've taken all this
trouble? Are you racking your brain for some way of spoiling my little
plans? But you can't do it, you know. It's too late. There's nothing
you can do, except sit still and growl, and glare at your own
claws--which a woman has clipped. How do you like the outlook, old
bear? Do you lie awake at night and study how to save your scheme for
the Emperor's marriage? All your grumpy old life you've despised
women; but now you're beginning at last to find out that powerful as
you are, there are some things a woman with tact and money, nice
houses and a good-natured husband can do, which the highest statesman
in the land can't undo. How soon