"What did she mean about forgetting Vienna,--can she know? Well, all Vienna knows it; I make no secret of my life. If she wished it, I would cast aside every folly, but does she wish it?"
He grew very thoughtful.
"She will wish it," he cried, "and then my life shall follow its true star,--away with every erring meteor; but how charming they are!" he whispered to himself.
The carriage stopped before a large house in the Ringe.
Herr von Stielow dismissed the coachman, nodded to the porter as if he knew him well, and ascended a couple of steps. A pretty lady's-maid opened the glass door of the entrance hall.
The young officer threw off his mantle, and entered a room elegantly furnished with dark blue satin; before the fire-place stood a tea-table lighted by a large Carcel lamp.
Upon a chaise longue, on one side of the fire-place, reposed the slender form of a young and beautiful woman clothed in white.
Her pale features of the noblest Grecian type were partly illumined by the lamp, partly by the red glow of the fire, and her eyes, of deeper black than even the smooth ebon tresses of her hair, now shone in soft, sweet reverie, now sparkled with quick, brilliant rays.
Her slender white arms half concealed by her large open sleeves, lay in her lap, and her slight fingers played with the clasp of her girdle.
Her whole appearance was of wonderful beauty, with a demoniacal look heightened by the changing lights which played over her face and the whole of her figure.