He took his basket of flowers, and hurried down the avenue.
Mademoiselle von Schwerin followed him, with an angry glance. "Once more no declaration of love," she murmured, stamping on the ground with the spitefulness of a child. "He shall make me a declaration. Madame von Morien says there is nothing more heavenly than to hear for the first time that you are beloved. She also says it is wisest not to choose your lovers among your equals, but either above or beneath you, for then you may be sure that you will not be betrayed. She told me yesterday that she was never so worshipped as by a young huntsman who served her father when she was just my age, and that no other man had ever adored her as he had done. Now Fritz Wendel loves me also, and he shall make me a declaration, for I must know what this charming sensation is. He shall do it to-morrow. I will be so kind and gentle that he will tell me of his love. But now I must return to the palace. I dare not be found here," and the young girl flew away lightly as a gazelle.
CHAPTER VIII.
VON MANTEUFFEL, THE DIPLOMAT.
The garden was again solitary. Nothing was heard but the chattering of birds, as they flitted from limb to limb, and the whispering of the wind among the trees; all else was tranquil and still. But this did not last long. The noise of advancing footsteps gave evidence of the approach of some one, whose figure was soon visible at the entrance of the grand avenue.
This person was again a lady, who, if not so beautiful as Mademoiselle von Schwerin, was still pretty enough to be called one of the fair sex. She was dressed in a charming and tasteful morning robe, which was eminently adapted to display to advantage the beautiful contour of her tall and stately figure.
Nor had she come into the garden merely to breathe the fresh morning air, and enjoy the delightful fragrance of flowers; these were scarcely observed, as she hurriedly swept past them. She stood still for a moment at the end of the long avenue, and looked cautiously around in all directions. Seeing that no one was near, that she was alone and unobserved, she turned aside into the bushes, and, following a narrow, overgrown path, at last arrived at the garden wall, where she remained standing before a small door for a moment, listening with suppressed breathing. Hearing nothing, she clapped her hands three times, and listened again. And now a repetition of her signal could be heard from the other side, and she cried in clear and silvery tones, "Good-morning, good-morning!" A deep, manly voice returned her greeting from the other side of the wall.
"It is he!" murmured the lady, and quickly drawing a key from her pocket, she opened the door.
The man who had been standing outside sprang forward through the open gate, and, bowing low to the lady, pressed her proffered hand to his lips.