"That points to marvelous wisdom in a child of society--seeing so
many people--so attractive! You are indifferent then to admiration?"

"I did not say that. My fancy has been often enough touched, but--"

"But your heart has not?"

"No."

"Really not?" continued he, in a tone of voice in which, he himself
detected the anxiety.

She shook her head, and looked down thoughtfully. But after a short
pause she raised her rosy face and said, "No--better die than speak
untruths--I was rather in love with our pastor who confirmed me. He
was thin and pale with long hair, much longer than yours. And he
spoke very beautifully and powerfully--I felt sentimental when I
thought of him. But I soon got to know his wife, who was as pointed
and hard as a knitting needle, and his children, whose number I
never could count exactly, and my youthful feelings received a
severe chill." She laughed, and Wilhelm joined her heartily.

It was now his turn to relate his story. He was as to his birthplace
hardly a German, but a Russian, as he first saw the light in Moscow,
in the year 1845.

"So you are now twenty-four?"

"Last May. Are you frightened at such an age, fraulein?"