Eskeles Flies was silent for a while. "And yet," resumed he, "I believe that I was wrong to invite him hither. In your unconscious modesty, you have not perceived, my child, that Gunther loves you with all the fervor of a true and honest heart. He may have indulged the thought that I would bestow my daughter upon a poor little imperial secretary, whose brother enjoys the privilege of blacking the emperor's boots. Although I laugh at this presumption, I pity his infatuation, for he is an excellent young man. Be careful—or rather, receive him no longer. You see, Rachel, that toward an estimable man, I do not encourage coquetry; on the contrary, I plead for poor Gunther. He must not be exposed to a disappointment. It is understood, then, that you decline his visits."
He smiled kindly upon his daughter, and left the room.
Rachel looked after him with lips half parted, and face as pale as marble. She stood motionless until the sound of her father's foot-steps had died away: then sinking upon her knees, she buried her face in her hands, and cried out in accents of despair
"Oh, my God! I am to see him no more!"
CHAPTER CXLIII.
THE COUNTESS BAILLOU,
The beautiful Countess Baillou was about to give a ball. She had invited all the haut ton of Vienna, and they had accepted the invitations. And yet the countess had been but four weeks in the Austrian capital; she had no relations there, and none of the aristocracy had ever heard her name before. But she had come to Vienna provided with letters of introduction, and money; and these two keys had opened the saloons of the fashionables to the beautiful stranger.
Her splendid equipage had been seen in the parks, and her magnificent diamonds at the theatre. All the young men of fashion had directed their lorgnettes toward her box, admiring not only her extraordinary beauty, but the grace and abandon of her attitude, as she leaned back in her velvet arm-chair. She had not long been seated when the door of the box opened, and a young man entered whom the lady greeted with a cordial smile. Every one knew the visitor to be Count Podstadsky-Liechtenstein. the richest, haughtiest, and handsomest cavalier in all Vienna. Podstadsky was the son of a distinguished nobleman, high in the emperor's favor; he had just returned from his travels, and all the Viennese gallants were eager to imitate him in every thing. To see him in the box of the beautiful stranger was to fire the ambition of every man to know her; the more so that the haughty Podstadsky, instead of accepting a seat, was standing in an attitude of profound respect, which he maintained until he took his leave.
Podstadsky, of course, was assailed with questions in relation to the countess. He had known her in Italy as the wife of a wealthy old nobleman to whom her parents had sacrificed her before she was eighteen. She had been sincerely admired in Rome, not only on account of her beauty, but of her wit, goodness, and above all of her admirable behavior toward her repulsive old husband. Her conduct had been so exemplary that she had been called "La contessa del cuore freddo." [Footnote: The countess with the cold heart.] Podstadsky confessed that even he had been desperately in love with her, but finding her unapproachable, had left Rome in despair. What then was his delight when, a few moments ago, he had learned from her own lips that she was a widow, and had come to spend a season in Vienna!
The consequence of this recital was that Podstadsky's young acquaintances were clamorous for presentation to la contessa. He stepped into her box to inform the lady of their wishes, but soon returned with the unwelcome tidings that the countess would receive no male visitor unless he came in the company of a lady. This, of course, increased the longing of the gallants tenfold, and the next day when her equipage was seen coming in the park, it was followed by many an eager horseman, jealous beyond expression of Count Podstadsky, who was admitted to the blessed privilege of riding near the lady of their thoughts.