"An old Italian acquaintance! Herr von Blanden, a gentleman of large property! Ah, ah, Böller, that is promotion over our heads, we shall have to retire to the ranks."
"I gave no cause for such remarks," said Giulia.
"No, Signora, we have not yet lost all courage. Such acquaintances from the land where the oranges bloom, easily droop in our climate; they require a special hot-house here, and it is to be hoped that you will not find one. But we are tried weather-proof friends, is it not so Böller? But we will not disturb the Signora any longer! no bad feelings, lovely one! Does not Beatrice bear the olive branch of peace?"
When Buschmann and Böller had retired, Giulia gave way to violent tears and sobs. Beate came to her and enquired as to the cause of this despair.
"Despair, indeed! I have seen him again and all else has become worthless to me; it is the breath of this passion that extinguishes all the other lights on the Christmas tree of my life, while I, dazzled, stare fixedly into the one all-consuming flame! But he, he--how can he respect me? That love, which I as if in a dream and intoxication gave to him, I the nameless one to the stranger--does it not now speak its own verdict of condemnation upon me? Now, when all gains name, form humiliating distinctness! In what circles does he see me. In those of importunate admirers, who sacrifice my name! The theatrical tinsel that rustles around me is sure to make all appear like a comedia to him, and who knows if like a divina comedia! Ah! and he does not imagine how the glowing recollection of him governs all my dreams, how, like that Penelope who waited for her Odyssey, I reject every other lover."
"He does not know it," said Beate, consolingly, "but you can tell him though."
"And when I have told him, if he believe me, if he still love me, what then? Is my misfortune any the less? The secret of my life, that baneful fetter that I drag after me, all prohibit any thought of lasting happiness! Was there ever a more pitiable slave than I? I would make a holocaust of all my laurel wreaths, of that accumulated adornment of my life, and precipitate myself into the flames; it would be best!"
"Do not despair," said Beate, "I have courage and resolution! I think day and night of a means by which to release you."
"It is impossible," replied Giulia sighing.
"First you shall speak to your friend of Lago Maggiore, and probe his heart. Appoint the hour yourself; I shall keep guard and no one shall cross this threshold."