One does not find how far and how deep honor has spread its roots, until it is lost.
Unrest, the most hateful demon in the world, had been conjured up in our house.
Now that our pride was broken, we at last noticed how proud we had been.
One day, when walking through the village, I met the perjured baker, Lerz of Hollerberg. He extended his hand to me in a friendly manner. Did he regard me as one of his equals? I withdrew my hand.
He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously and went on his way.
The first neighbor who visited me was Baron Arven, who lives about a mile and a half from our house.
I believe I have not yet referred to this man. His dignified and quiet demeanor betokened a really brave and noble character. He was just what he seemed to be--free from all pretence or deceit.
I must add a few words in regard to his family. Following the bent of most of the dwellers in our part of the country, he had gone down the Danube and had entered the Austrian army. He afterward left the service and returned to the family estate, bringing with him a wife who was a native of Bohemia, and who held but little intercourse with the neighborhood. Her only familiar companions were the clergy.
The Bishop had stopped there on two occasions while making his pastoral journeys.
She led a life of seclusion in the castle, or rather the convent; for the estate on which they lived had, at one time, belonged to a religious order.