'So am I—so am I,' exclaimed the baron, pulling his long fair moustaches, for a betrothal in Germany gives a young girl a kind of wife-like sanctity among the homely and domestic Teutonic people; and Mrs. Deroubigne, who dearly loved the romantic, felt for him; the young man's hopes had been cruelly crushed at the very moment when he thought them brightest.
'One cannot have everything they want—it is not given to anyone on earth to be perfectly happy, I suppose,' said he, with a sigh, and there was a sadness, with a ring of sincerity, in his voice that certainly touched Mrs. Deroubigne.
'Have you spoken of love to her?' whispered she, behind her fan; 'but I hope not!'
'No—I have never spoken—but she must have inferred what I felt,' replied the baron, who, like most German officers, spoke English well.
'Inferred it—I scarcely think so, with her mind so occupied with the thoughts of another.'
'But, any way, I think it does a girl good to know that a man loves her; and then, if the proverb be true about one love begetting another, she may incline her heart to him.'
'Not in this instance, baron.'
For Rolandsburg now the charm of the ball was over; the music sounded faint, the lights seemed dim, and he was glad when the great festivity ended, and he, after escorting the ladies to their carriage, took his way slowly through the streets to his barracks near the Dammthor Wall.
For his disappointment—and it was a sudden and sore one—he had no one but himself to blame, he felt, as Mary Wellwood had never given him the least encouragement to fling his heart away as he had done.
And now for the sequel to the night's adventures.