nd its way to Gunther's house. Choice
fish, the best game, early vegetables, and the finest fruit were
brought there, and Madame Gunther was at some trouble to prevent people
from overstocking the house. Even their servants were held in honor.
Since they moved into the town, they had not once changed their
domestics, who were constantly endeavoring to make themselves more
useful and obliging. Even the dog and the mule which Gunther had
procured for his mountain trips, were regarded with pleasure by the
citizens.

CHAPTER II.

It was in the early spring. Madame Gunther and her two daughters were
sitting by the window and working. A light-haired little girl, nearly
five years old, was playing on the floor, and the three ladies often
regarded it with affectionate glances. Aunt Paula seemed to be her
favorite, and most of the child's questions were addressed to her.

Change of residence had made no alteration in Madame Gunther. She was
still as dignified and refined as of yore, and, as her friends at the
capital had been wont to say, every dress she wore seemed as if she had
put it on for the first time.

The professor's widow had grown somewhat stouter, and Paula, who had
grown in height, was the youthful image of her mother.

"May I call grandfather now?" asked little Cornelia, who noticed that
the round table in the center of the room had been set for the second
breakfast.

"Not yet, but right soon," replied Paula.

Gunther was still in his working-room. It was furnished simply,
provided with a small but choice library, and embellished with
appropriate bronzes. Gunther's dress, while at his work-table, was as
scrupulously neat as if he expected to be summoned to court at any
moment. He invariably rose at five o'clock, all the year round, and had
done a full day's work when others were just commencing the day. It was
only in unavoidable and exceptional cases that he allowed himself to be
disturbed during the morning.

He wrote a great deal. It was rumored at the capital that he was
engaged in preparing his memoirs, and he might, had he cared to do so,
have had much to tell; for who was so familiar as he with the secret
history of the last and the present government? But he felt it his duty
to write of other matters. He endeavored to construct a science of
life, using the combined results of the study of nature and practical
knowledge of the world, as a basis. A slight glow w