hall on
Thursday--when you made the circuit with the cup for the collection
after your delightful ballad--you refused me even a reply to my request
for an interview. That was for the favor of a salute from those
somewhat thin but honeyed lips! Now, there is nobody by and I mean to be
rewarded for the bouquets I have nightly sent you!"

"Father!" cried the Jewess, too frightened by the position of her
assailant to flee.

"Your father? Bah!" with a contemptuous glance at the old man
approaching only too slowly. "I repeat, there is no one by! _That_ I
arranged for."

The speaker had red curly hair like his whiskers; his brow was not
narrow but his eyebrows overhung; his face was flushed with animation
and carnal desire--perhaps by potations, though his large lower jaw
denoted ample animal courage. He was powerful enough in the long arms
and strong hands to have mastered the girl and her father, but it was
not the dread of his prowess physically which awed the daughter of the
race still proscribed in this part of Germany.

Frederick von Sendlingen, Baron of ancient creation, enjoyed a wide fame
among the knot of noble carousers who strove to make one corner of
Munich a pale reflection of the "fast" end of Paris and Vienna. A major
in a crack heavy cavalry regiment, allowed for family reasons to remain
in the garrison after it had been removed elsewhere, he enjoyed enviable
esteem from his superiors and the hatred and dislike of all others.
Though inclined to court after the manner of the pillager who has
captured a city, his boisterous addresses pleased the wanton matrons
and, more naturally, the facile Cythereans of the music halls and
dance-houses.

At an early hour, he had cast his handkerchief, like an irresistible
sultan, at the chief attraction of the beer cellar, which he named--the
so-called "La Belle Stamboulane," and baffled in all his less brutal
modes of attack, he had recourse to one which better suited his custom.

It looked as though he had lost time in not putting it into operation
before, since the girl, around whom, taking one stride, he threw his
arms, could not, by her feeble resistance, prevent him snatching a kiss.
As for her father, casting down his turkophone, and raising his staff in
both hands, his valorous approach went for little, as his blow would
have been as likely to fall upon his daughter as the ruffian.

While he was bewildered and his stick was raised in air, the latter,
perceivin