Countess Frankenstein and her daughter accompanied them to the door, and had only been a few moments alone when a servant entered and said:
"There is a gentleman here, who asks very pressingly for an interview with the countess."
"Who is it?" she asked, with surprise, for she had few visitors except those belonging to her own exclusive circle of society.
"Here is his card," said the servant, handing a visiting card to the countess. "He assures me it is greatly to your ladyship's interest to hear what he has to say."
Countess Frankenstein took the card, and read, with a look of astonishment--"E. Balzer, Exchange Agent."
A deep flush passed over Countess Clara's face, she looked anxiously at her mother and pressed her handkerchief to her lips.
"I cannot understand," said the countess, "what a person so entirely unknown to me can want; however, let him come in!"
In a few moments Herr Balzer entered the salon. He was dressed in black, and his common-looking face bore an expression of grave dignity which did not appear to belong to it.
He approached the ladies with a manner in which the boldness of the habitué of a coffee-house was mingled with the embarrassment of a man who, accustomed only to low society, suddenly finds himself amongst persons of distinction.
Countess Frankenstein looked at him with a cold, proud gaze, whilst Clara, after her large eyes had taken in his vulgar appearance with a hasty glance, cast them down and waited in trembling expectation for the reason of this unexpected visit.