"How do you know that?"
"From the striking likeness between mother and daughter, which must have struck you also. Both of them were at that time extremely beautiful; in fact, I have never seen anything like it. I do not think any one could have remained unmoved by the sight of this youthful mother with her magnificent child, which in the theatrical costume and the dark, abundant curls might pass as easily for a boy as for a girl. I have seen the like of it only in Murillo's paintings, with their sunny glow and fierce passion. It so happens that I fancy I know something of picturesque beauty, and try my hand occasionally at painting myself--so they set me drawing all day long, and I went to work on gypsy heads from morning till evening. I forgot to tell you that I kept the two gypsies for a few days here at Berkow. On one of these days I was obliged to give a large party. And--now comes the folly of the thing--in order to get a joke a tour absurd people here, I dressed Isabel up in the richest costume that I possessed, and handed the Czika over to my chambermaid, to deck her out, and then I introduced the two as the Countess of Kryvan, with her little daughter Czika, whose acquaintance I had made the year before at a watering-place, and who had just arrived from Hungary to pay me a visit."
"And what did the company say?"
"They were delighted. I had previously made it known that Isabella belonged to the old Magyar nobility, who had pledged themselves never to use any other language but the national tongue, and occasionally a little Latin."
"Did the people really believe that, and did the gentlemen try to keep up the conversation in Latin?"
"You can make our people believe anything you choose; and as for the gentlemen, Latin is Greek to them. Isabella, I can assure you, took her seat on the sofa with almost regal dignity, and our greatest people in the neighborhood overwhelmed the countess with attentions, regretting again and again their inability to speak Latin, and thus to enjoy the interesting and attractive conversation of the great lady. The little girl was taken from lap to lap, and almost smothered with titbits and with caresses. In fine, the comedy was played successfully to the very last scene, and for several days afterwards the whole neighborhood was full of the 'nut-brown countess,' as they took it into their heads to call the friend of Melitta von Berkow. Well, how do you like my story?"
"To be candid, only so-so. I enjoy the mystification of your high-mighty visitors with all my heart, but I confess I feel rather pained to see a poor helpless woman made the toy of the rich and the great simply because she is poor and helpless."
Melitta looked full at Oswald and replied, without the slightest trace of resentment:
"Now look, that is nice in you to think so, and I think it still nicer that you tell me so openly. But I told you beforehand it was a foolish thing I did; and afterwards I felt heartily sorry for it, and did all I could to make amends for the evil consequences which followed. Only listen, and see how the matter ended. I had, of course, presented the Brown Countess with all the things which she and the Czika had worn during the comedy. The poor woman, not knowing what to do with the plunder, tried to sell it in the next town. They thought she had stolen the things, and demanded that she should explain how she had come in possession of such a wardrobe. That she could not do, for she had forgotten my name and the name of my place, and besides, nobody could understand her jargon. The justices, therefore, in their wisdom, concluded to put the Brown Countess into jail as a vagabond and a thief, until the matter should be cleared up in some way or other. Unfortunately, I had myself left a few days before for a watering-place in the neighborhood, and whilst I was there enjoying the fresh sea air in full draughts, the poor woman had to suffer for weeks in a damp prison cell. Alas! and these people value freedom above all things! You see, I shall never forgive myself for all this! It was only after my return that I heard, by a mere accident, of what had happened. Of course, I did at once all that could be done. I drove myself into town and opened the prison-doors to my Brown Countess. But how I found her changed! Pale, emaciated, worn out, she looked as if every week of her imprisonment had cost her a year of her life. Little Czika looked, if possible, still worse. I took both of them back with me to Berkow; I nursed them and comforted them; I made them presents, and tried all I could to make amends. But repentance came here, as usually, too late. Little Czika had been grievously injured by the damp air of the jail. She fell, soon after her arrival here, in a raging fever, and I thank God to this day that she escaped with her life. What could I have done if she had died!"
Melitta was silent, and something like a tear glistened in her eyes. But the next moment she laughed again, and said: