"When I was ten years old and Philip fifteen, an unusually charming girl was added to our little circle. I above everybody else was enchanted with her. Our friends at the castle and even Philip, who certainly was not easily filled with enthusiasm, were extremely enthusiastic about our new playmate. She was a girl of eleven years old, you see just a year older than I was. She was far, far above me, though, in knowledge, ability, and especially in her manners and whole behaviour, so that I was perfectly carried away by her charm.
"Her name was Leonore. She was related to the baroness and had come down from the far north, in fact from Holstein, where my godmother came from and all her connections lived. Leonore, the daughter of one of her relations, had very early lost her father and mother, as her mother had died soon after the Baroness decided to adopt the child. She knew that Leonore would otherwise be all alone in the world, and she hoped that a gentle sister would have an extremely beneficial influence on the two self-willed brothers. Now a time began for me which was more wonderful than anything I could ever have imagined. Leonore was to continue her studies, of course, and take up new ones. For that purpose a very refined German lady came to the castle very soon after Leonore's arrival. Only years afterwards I realized what a splendid teacher she had been.
"My godmother had arranged for me to share the studies with Leonore, and therefore I was to live all day at the castle as her companion, only returning in the evenings. So we two girls spent all our time together, and in bad weather I also remained there for the night. Leonore had a tremendous influence on me, and I am glad to say an influence for my good, for I was able to look up to her in everything. Whatever was common or low was absolutely foreign to her noble nature. This close companionship with her was not only the greatest enjoyment of my young years, but was the greatest of benefits for my whole life."
"You certainly were lucky, mother," Mea exclaimed passionately.
"Yes, and Uncle Philip was lucky, too, to have two such nice friends," Bruno added.
"I realize that," the mother answered. "You have no idea, children, how often I have wished that you, too, could have such friends."
"Please go on," Kurt begged impatiently. "Where did they go, mother? Doesn't anyone know what has become of them?"
"Whenever our brothers, as we called them, were free," the mother continued, "they were our beloved playmates. We valued their stimulating company very much and were always happy when through some chance they were exempt from some of their numerous lessons. They always asked us to join them in their games and we were very happy that they wanted our company. Baroness von Wallerstätten had guessed right. Since Leonore had come into our midst, the brothers fought much more seldom, and everybody who knew Bruno well could see that he tried to suppress his outbursts of rage in her presence. Once Leonore had become pale with fright when she had been obliged to witness such a scene, and Bruno had not forgotten it. Four years had passed for us in cloudless sunshine when a great change took place. The young barons left the castle in order to attend a university in Germany, and Philip also left for an agricultural school. So we only saw the brothers once a year, during their brief holidays in the summer. Those days were great feast days then for all of us, and we enjoyed every single hour of their stay from early morning till late at night. We always began and ended every day with music, and frequently whole days were spent in the enjoyment of it.
"Both young Wallerstättens were extremely musical and had splendid voices, and Leonore's exquisite singing stirred everybody deeply. The Baroness always said that Leonore's voice brought the tears to her eyes, no matter if she sang merry or serious songs. It affected me in that way, too, and one could never grow weary of hearing her. I had just finished my seventeenth and Leonore her eighteenth year when a summer came which was to bring grave changes. We did not expect Philip home for the holidays. Through the Baroness' help he was already filling the post of manager of an estate in the far north. The young barons had also completed their studies and were expected to come home and to consult with their mother about their plans for the future. She fully expected them to travel before settling down, and after that she hoped sincerely that one of them would come to live at home with her; this would mean that he would take the care of the estate on his shoulders with its troubles and responsibilities. Soon after their arrival the sons seemed to have had an interview with their mother which clearly worried her, for she went about silently, refusing to answer any questions. Bruno strode up and down the terrace with flaming eyes whole hours at a time, without saying a word. Salo was the only sociable one left, and sometimes he would come and sit down beside us; but if we questioned him about their apparent feud, he remained silent. How different this was from our former gay days! But this painful situation did not last long. On the fifth or sixth day after their arrival the brothers did not appear for breakfast. The Baroness immediately inquired in great anxiety if they had left the castle, but nobody seemed to have noticed them. Apollonie was the only one who had seen them going upstairs together in the early morning, so she was sent up to look for them in the tower rooms. When she found them empty, she opened the door of the old fencing-hall by some strange impulse. Here Salo was crouching half fainting on the floor. He told her that it was nothing to worry about, and that he had only lost consciousness for a moment. She had to help him to get up, however, and he came downstairs supported on her arm. The Baroness never said a word. She stayed in her son's chamber till the physician who had been sent for had gone away again. Then returning to us, she sat down beside Leonore and me and told us that we ought to know what had happened. Apparently she was very calm, but I had never seen her face so pale. She informed us that when she had spoken to her sons about their future plans, she had discovered that neither of them had ever spoken about it to the other. Now they both declared to her that their full intention had been for years to come home after the completion of their studies and to live in Wildenstein with her and Leonore. Bruno was quite beside himself when he found that Salo had apparently no intention to yield to him in the matter, so he challenged his brother to a duel in order to decide which of them was to remain at home. Salo had been wounded and, losing consciousness, had fallen to the ground. Bruno, fearing something worse, had disappeared. The doctor had not found Sale's wounds of a serious nature, but as he had a delicate constitution, great care had to be taken. When I left the castle that day I felt that all the joy and happiness I had ever known on earth was shattered, and this feeling stayed with me a long while after. Soon after that sad event the Baroness got ready for a journey to the south, where she meant to go with Salo and Leonore. Salo had not recovered as quickly as she had hoped, and Leonore, instead of getting more robust in our vigorous mountain-air, only became thinner and frailer. Only once Bruno sent his mother some news. In extremely few words he let her know that he was going to Spain, and that she need not trouble more about him. But the news of his brother's survival reached him, nevertheless. Now all those I had loved so passionately had gone away, and I felt it very deeply. There the castle stood, sad and lifeless, and its lighted windows looked down no more upon us from the height. All its eyes were closed and were to remain so."
"Oh, oh, did they never come back?" cried out Kurt with regret.