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 R E A T A
 
 Juliet. 'Tis but tliy name that is my enemy ; 
 Thou art thyself . . . 
 
 . . . O, be some other name ! 
 What's in a name ? that which we call a rose, 
 By any otl*er name would smell as sweet. 
 
 — Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Scene 2.
 
 I - 
 
 R E /t A 
 
 WHAT'S IN A NAME 
 
 BY 
 
 E. D. GERARD 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXX
 
 ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN ' BLACKWOOD's MAGAZINE,'
 
 8£5 
 
 v.l 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FffiST VOLUME. 
 
 
 CHAP 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 I. 
 
 CAFE SCHAUM, 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 II. 
 
 A FAMILY TREE, . 
 
 
 
 
 . .le 
 
 > 
 
 ll 
 
 > 
 
 c 
 
 f 
 
 p 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XL 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "uncles in AMERICA," 
 
 PIOTR, 
 
 AUNT OLIVIA, 
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES, 
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ? . 
 
 CROAKING, . 
 
 "der HANDSCHUH," . 
 
 THE "monkey's mirror," 
 
 ALARMED, . 
 
 LOSS AND GAIN, . 
 
 THE BONY ONE, . 
 
 UNCLE MAX's REVENGE, 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 41 
 
 49 
 
 61 
 
 80 
 
 98 
 
 117 
 
 139 
 
 158 
 
 184 
 
 198 
 
 219
 
 Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 XVII. CORRESPONDENCE, 
 XVIII. THE SKETCH-BOOK, 
 
 241 
 
 XV. A LITTLE SOUVENIR, . . . 
 
 XVI. TWO POLISH PORTRAITS, . . . .257 
 
 269 
 
 290
 
 R E A T A. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CAFE SCIIAUM. 
 
 Ist's noch der alte, unversohnte Hass 
 Den ihr mit herbringt ? " 
 
 —Brant von Messina. 
 
 Do you know the Cafe Schaum in Vienna? The 
 chances are you do not ; and yet it is a place of -some 
 note in its own particular way. Not that it can com- 
 pete with the many brilliant establishments of its 
 kind which have sprung up here of late years — estab- 
 lishments furnished with every luxury in the shape of 
 lofty rooms, exquisite furniture and decorations, and 
 all the hundred and one items of a paraphernalia 
 which our grandfathers never dreamt of, but which 
 their degenerate descendants consider mere necessaries 
 of life. No ; in the Cafe Schaum there is not much to 
 dazzle a stranger : most such would probably linger by 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 the more attractive houses of this kind which abound 
 in the pleasure-loving capital, instead of following me 
 into the somewhat dingy, though thoroughly respect- 
 able, rooms in which this story opens. 
 
 The Caf^ Schaum need fear no rivalry, for it has an 
 original, almost an historical, character — although, like 
 most historical monuments, it is beginning to show 
 signs of decay. For the first half of this century it 
 was the military Cafe 'jpar excellence — the chief resort 
 of every one belonging to, or interested in, the Austrian 
 military service. In those days you would have been 
 sure to find a room filled two-thirds with officers and 
 one- third with civilians ; now that is all modified, and 
 there are as many black coats as uniforms among the 
 frequenters of the time-honoured Cafe. But although 
 the original character is modified, it is not effaced ; old 
 warriors go there from the force of habit, and young 
 ones following tradition. No member of the fair sex 
 ever sets foot within these walls. I will not, however, 
 commit myself by asserting that the absence of gossip 
 and scandal is as complete as the exclusion of all 
 daughters of Eve would seem to vouch for. 
 
 The last fifty years have made little change in the 
 appearance of the Cafe Schaum ; and it is probable that 
 were the ghost of Eadetzky, or any of his contempo- 
 raries who served his Majesty the Emperor of Austria 
 half a century ago, to rise from his grave and stalk in 
 here, he would find himself quite at home in the famil- 
 iar old place. If, however, he lent an ear (can ghosts 
 hear, by the way ?) to the talk going on, the ancien-
 
 CAF^ SCHAUM. 3 
 
 regime soldier would soon perceive how busy the world 
 has been all these years, while he has been lying stark 
 and stiff " with his martial cloak around him," and to 
 what a very different state of things he has suddenly 
 awoke. 
 
 But it is not with ghosts we have to do atpresent 
 (though I must confess to a weakness for them) ; and 
 if on this spring day of 1872 any of the said individ- 
 uals are afloat, they remain invisible to the naked eye. 
 It is afternoon, and dozens of solitary men are read- 
 ing their papers ; groups of two and three or more 
 men together, occupy the little marble tables that are 
 dotted about the room. These groups are various. 
 Group Number One consists of a stout, bald captain, 
 in infantry uniform, and of a small, fair dragoon 
 major, whose best point is decidedly his long fluffy 
 whiskers. Group Number Two is more extensive, and 
 somewhat juvenile, embracing several rather green- 
 looking cadets, a few subalterns, and a tall, young 
 civilian, who is smoking his cigar with an ostenta- 
 tiously hlas4 air. Group Number Three is of a graver 
 character : a couple of old gentlemen — one with blue 
 spectacles, the other with a troublesome] cough, and 
 a colonel of the Lancers, who is treating his former 
 comrades to a minute account of the state of his 
 regiment. Group Number Four — well, we will not 
 go further than Group Number Four, for you are re- 
 quested to pause here and take a better look. Two 
 men are sitting at this table, and of these two men you 
 are going to hear more. Among the many groups that
 
 4 "what's in a name?" o 
 
 are scattered about the coffee-room, there is only this 
 one to which your attention is seriously called. The 
 others — civilians or officers, old pensioners, and green 
 cadets — may be as interesting in their way too ; some 
 of them for their histories that are past, others for 
 their histories that are to come. Every one of the 
 green cadets may be going to act a part in some 
 thrilling adventure of love or bravery ; and each one 
 of the elders, even the stout, bald captain, whose face 
 seems so utterly devoid of any expression, may have 
 had some passages of interest, ay, of poetry, perhaps, 
 in his past : but it is not with them we have to do ; 
 it is only at Group Number Four that you are asked 
 to pause and look again. 
 
 The two men that are sitting at this table are both 
 young, both well grown, and one of them is strikingly 
 handsome — brothers, as their likeness tells at once. 
 
 The eldest looks a couple of years over thirty, 
 whereas in reality he is a couple of years under. His 
 sunburnt complexion adds to his age in appearance, 
 — also his heavy eyebrows, the feature which strikes 
 attention first. He is not to be called handsome ex- 
 actly, with hair of a medium brown, and grey eyes, 
 which look self-reliant and a little severe. A power- 
 fully-built, grandly -formed man — broad-shouldered 
 and tall. He is in plain' clothes ; but something in 
 the bearing of his stalwart figure tells that he too, at 
 no very distant period, has worn the hussar uniform, 
 which becomes his younger brother so well. 
 
 The hussar is of much the same height, but more
 
 CAFE SCHAUM. 5 
 
 slender of figure, and more regular-featured. If the 
 other brother looks older than his age, this one looks 
 younger ; there is only a year between them in reality, 
 but to look at the younger you would take him to be 
 three or four and twenty. The eyebrows here are not 
 bushy, but finely marked; the eyes of a very dark 
 blue ; the complexion less tanned with sun ; the hair 
 several shades lighter : altogether, he is a man whom 
 nature has given more than the average share of good 
 looks. To say that a man has regular features and 
 dark-blue eyes, is not necessarily to pay him a great 
 compliment ; for he may have all this and more, and 
 yet remain a barber's block. But this is not the case 
 here. This man has both vivacity and intelligence, 
 and a certain high polish and fascination of manjier 
 which are even better gifts than his face and his figure. 
 
 At first sight the resemblance between the two 
 brothers would strike you forcibly, but after an hour 
 in their society you would have found it difficult to 
 define what made them appear alike at first. It was 
 only that indescribable air de famille which is so 
 puzzling sometimes. 
 
 The conversations going on in the coffee-room are as 
 various as the groups. 
 
 " Have you heard," the bald captain is saying, " that 
 the 96th Eegiment is likely to be ordered off to Bohemia, 
 to replace the 42d, which, it seems, has made the place 
 too hot to hold it ?" 
 
 " No indeed," replies, very emphatically, the small 
 fair dragoon major with the fluffy whiskers — "no
 
 6 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 indeed," repeats he in his thin pipy voice; "you 
 must be mistaken, for I have been positively assured 
 that the 69th Eegiment is the one destined ; and I 
 assure you," he continues, in a slightly piqued tone, as 
 the bald captain makes a gesture of incredulity, " I 
 have very good authorities for this assertion, although 
 I am not at liberty to mention my source." 
 
 " That is precisely the case with me," answers the 
 captain, with a solemn shake of the head, — and both 
 these worthies hereupon drop the subject and relapse 
 into silence ; while each, from the expression of con- 
 centrated mystery on his face, tries to give the other 
 the impression that he has got his information first- 
 hand from the Minister of War at least, if not from 
 his Majesty himself. 
 
 " And so old Tortenfish is going to make a fool of 
 himself in his old days, and marry little Fraulein 
 Korn, who has nothing but her pretty face (she cer- 
 tainly is confoundedly pretty)," the Uasd young man 
 is remarking. 
 
 "■ What fools our elders are ! " says some one else, 
 complacently ; " to let one's self be caught in that man- 
 ner ! Nothing short of a title and three hundred thou- 
 sand florins would induce me to sell my liberty." 
 
 " Then I fancy you will have to pass your life in 
 single blessedness," suggests another. 
 
 "Well, I rather think so myself; and to tell the 
 truth, I have no great opinion of matrimony, and I 
 think that wives are apt to turn out failures." 
 
 " I killed twenty -seven of them last year," comes, in
 
 CAFE SCHAUM. 7 
 
 a mournful tone, from the Lancer colonel ; " it was a 
 heavy blow, and has been difficult to recover from." 
 
 " Is the old savage a Turk in disguise, do you think, 
 Arnold ? " whispered the younger of the two brothers, 
 whose name was Otto. 
 
 The next minute, however, cleared the gallant colo- 
 nel's character, as in the course of conversation the 
 words glanders, expense of hurning saddlery, &c., explain 
 the nature of his bereavement. From this depressing 
 subject, the colonel goes on to expatiate upon the vari- 
 ous miseries of military men's lives in general, and of 
 cavalry colonels in particular, winding up by assuring 
 his audience that had he a sixpence to bless himself 
 with, he would cut the whole concern. 
 
 " Upon my word, Arnold, the old fellow is . not 
 wrong there," says Otto, laying aside his cigar ; " and 
 if my expedition turns out successful, I shall look 
 sharp about turning my back on the military career, 
 and leave my country to defend itself as best it can 
 without my valuable assistance." 
 
 " But, Otto, not longer than two years ago you would 
 not let yourself be persuaded to exchange the life of a 
 soldier for another." 
 
 "But that was quite another thing," returns Otto 
 hastily, with some visible confusion. "Of course I 
 have got no taste for vegetating in that humdrum 
 manner in the country ; besides, you know that I have 
 not got your practical nature, and should never have 
 managed to make the ends meet in the wonderful way 
 you do. My leaving my career at that time would
 
 8 what's in a name?" 
 
 have been a useless sacrifice. But you would surely 
 not expect a man with half a million in his pocket to 
 go on wearing out his energies in the ungrateful task 
 of pounding recruits and horses into shape, and not 
 being able to take the slightest liberty with his time 
 without getting into hot water? Surely you agree 
 with me?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I agree. But first make sure of your half- 
 million." 
 
 " Don't croak ; I am in high spirits," says the other, 
 unrepressed. "My — I mean our prospects are in a 
 brilliant state. An old lady living in the middle of 
 prairies, with several millions — what is more natural 
 than that she should give some of her superfluous cash 
 to her promising nephews ? " 
 
 Arnold suggested that the old lady was not a fixture 
 in the prairies, and might take herself and her riches 
 somewhere else ; " and besides," he added, " she may 
 prefer keeping them to herself." 
 
 " Oh, trust me for that ; she would need to be made 
 of flint if she does not soften in face of all the tender 
 reminiscences I come armed with — letters and rose 
 leaves and locks of hair." 
 
 " What is that about locks of hair ? " exclaimed a 
 cheerful voice close at hand. 
 
 Arnold gave Otto a warning look, and in the next 
 moment they were greeting two fellow-officers of Otto's 
 who had come to Vienna for their Easter Feiertdge. 
 
 A dark flush crossed Otto's face as he rose to 
 welcome his captain and the young lieutenant. That
 
 CAY± SCHAUM. 9 
 
 the meeting was not an altogether pleasant one could 
 be gathered from the studious civility with which he 
 made room at the table for^ his senior officer, while 
 greeting Lieutenant Langenfeld with the careless 
 intimacy usual among good comrades. 
 
 Lieutenant Langenfeld does not need much descrip- 
 tion — he was one of the regular types of his class : 
 every one acquainted with Austrian cavalry officers as 
 they used to be, will know what I mean. Over the 
 middle height, rather slender, and fairly good-looking; 
 a dash of dandyism in his appearance ; and in his walk 
 that indescribable something which is elegantly termed 
 " cavalry limp.'' Besides these general characteristics, 
 Lieutenant Langenfeld had some peculiar to himself. 
 Providence had not overburdened him with brains, J)ut 
 had in return furnished him with an inexhaustible fund 
 of high spirits. Indeed, there had only been one occa- 
 sion, his comrades declared, on which he had been seen 
 in a depressed state of mind ; this was when a duel, in 
 which he was to have been engaged, was nipped in the 
 bud by his opponent apologising at the last moment. 
 
 "Eather hard lines/' he was heard to exclaim de- 
 spondently to a sympathising listener, ''having one's 
 fun cut up in this way. Why, I have not had a duel 
 for a year, not since Kraputchek trod on my terrier's 
 tail; have been thinking of nothing else since yes- 
 terday; and now the wretch must needs apologise. 
 Enough to make a man hang himself!" 
 
 It was said, however, that two days after, he found 
 consolation by getting into some scrape in company
 
 10 "what's in a name?^ 
 
 with his late adversary — the two having sworn eternal 
 friendship. 
 
 " Now for the locks of hair ! " exclaimed the lieu- 
 tenant cheerfully, as he took a place at the table. " Is 
 it a flaxen curl of the fair Halka's which you are tak-. 
 ing as a talisman on your journey ? " 
 
 "No, not that," replied Otto, glancing sharply at 
 the captain, who, leaning back in his chair, was regard- 
 ing him with inquisitive amusement. " I had not the 
 honour of taking leave of the Countess ; my departure 
 was so sudden, and I had so much to do before start- 
 ing, and — the roads were in such a bad state," con- 
 tinued Otto, blundering on, and forgetting in his con- 
 fusion that this enumeration of excellent reasons was 
 only weakening the effect he wished to produce. 
 
 " All right, my dear fellow," said the captain, with 
 a short laugh, drawling his words out imperceptibly. 
 He had not removed his eyes from Otto's face while 
 the other was stammering his disconnected explana- 
 tion. *'You need not give yourself so much trouble 
 to explain what is quite natural. I found the roads 
 perfectly passable a fortnight ago when I called there, 
 and the Countess'was in wonderful looks ; but I think 
 you were quite right in going off without any special 
 adieux ;— quite right," he repeated, at last withdrawing 
 his eyes from Otto, and casting a seemingly careless 
 glance into the mirror opposite, where his own half- 
 reclining figure stood out as the principal object in the 
 foreground. Tall, broad, and black-haired, he did not 
 make a bad picture in the glass. A fine man, a very
 
 CAFE SCHAUM. 11 
 
 fine man, almost too fine a man for a very refined 
 taste. Neither colouring nor material had been spared 
 in his construction ; there was enough and over of 
 both. No one, after a passing glance, could have enter- 
 tained a doubt that this was a man well to do in the 
 world — a man who had seldom been denied the grati- 
 fication of a desire — a man who never could have been 
 hungry in his life, and looked as if he never would be 
 hungry. He walked, ate, and slept in an essentially 
 well-to-do, rich manner, never for a moment forget- 
 ting that he was rich, and never letting any one else 
 forget it. 
 
 Looking at the two reflections near each other in 
 the glass, that of Otto appeared almost pale and weak 
 beside the captain ; and yet no woman in her senses 
 would hesitate for a moment between the two — for 
 while that high-bred profile and intense blue eyes could 
 hardly fail to captivate any woman's imagination, the 
 coarser beauty of the other appealed only to the senses. 
 Beautiful he was, but not a type of manly beauty. 
 You could not call him more than a beautiful animal. 
 
 " Ha ! " said Captain Kreislich, turning from the 
 glass with a slight movement of interest ; for beside 
 the reflection of his own features he had caught sight 
 of Otto's face darkened with the rage which his last 
 words had awakened. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Otto began, making a move- 
 ment as if to rise to his feet, his voice shaking with 
 ill-suppressed fury. 
 
 " Nonsense, Otto ! " interrupted Arnold quickly, giv-
 
 12 "what's in a name?" 
 
 ing his brotlier a glance whicli did not fail in its effect ; 
 for Otto, witli an evident effort, leant back and was 
 silent. 
 
 " !N"onsense ! " echoed Langenfeld, bursting into the 
 conversation. " Of course, Bodenbach, if you choose to 
 go off rushing to such an unheard-of place as Mexico, 
 without the usual ceremonies of leave-taking, and 
 without any explanations, people will explain for 
 themselves ; and you have only yourself to thank if 
 the explanations are wrong." 
 
 " And pray, what sort of motives have people been 
 kind enough to invent for me ? " 
 
 " Oh, all sorts of things ; you know the usual Jews 
 and debts and difficulties. Of course," he went on, 
 seeing a cloud on Otto's face, "I flatly contradicted 
 this report, and invariably declared that you were 
 going to Mexico to take possession of an immense 
 fortune, although some inquiring spirits suggested that 
 in this case Arnold, being unfettered by military duties, 
 would be the most likely man for the expedition." 
 
 Langenfeld watched the effect of these words on his 
 comrade, for he was indeed dying with curiosity as to 
 the object of this voyage ; and had the others not been 
 present, it is probable he would have taxed his friend 
 point-blank with the question. He was puzzled now. 
 Otto certainly had winced at the beginning of the con- 
 versation ; but again, at reference to the fortune, he had 
 cast a glance that looked very like triumph at the 
 captain opposite. 
 
 The captain was sitting up in his chair now with
 
 CAF]^ SCHAUM. 13 
 
 evidences of interest in his face. The conversation 
 was promising some excitement. He drew a little 
 nearer to the table, and when he spoke this time he 
 did not drawl. 
 
 "Mexico! ah yes, Mexico is a long way off ; not a 
 country I should care to visit myself. Do you intend 
 remaining there ? " 
 
 "I daresay you would like it if I did," muttered 
 Otto between his teeth ; but aloud he only said, " I 
 don't know what my plans will be — they are not set- 
 tled yet." 
 
 " Perhaps you mean to go into the Mexican army," 
 put in Langenfeld. "Wouldn't I like to be in your 
 place ! Lots of big game to kill : buffaloes, and croco- 
 diles, and brigands, and so on in charming variety. 
 Surely you will not be fool enough to return to riding- 
 schools and recruits after that ! " 
 
 Arnold here interrupted. " We are not at liberty to 
 satisfy your curiosity. You are quite right, however, in 
 contradicting any report of my brother being obliged 
 to leave Austria. It is merely a family matter: he 
 is going by his own choice, and will, I trust, soon be 
 back again." 
 
 Langenfeld, who was rather in awe of Arnold, im- 
 mediately changed the subject. 
 
 "By the by, Bodenbach," he said, presently, "are 
 you really going to take that entertaining creature 
 Piotr with you ? He is the very last article I should 
 dream of dragging to Mexico. Why, you will have to 
 publish a volume of anecdotes on your return."
 
 14 "what's in a name?" 
 
 "Yes, Piotr is going," said Arnold; "not that he 
 will be very useful, but at any rate he will do for 
 companionship." 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Langenfeld, with a grin, "we 
 shall, a few months hence, be surprised by seeing Piotr 
 walking in on one leg, and incoherently breaking to us 
 the pleasant news that he has lost the urn containing 
 his master's remains en route ; you, Bodenbach, having 
 managed to get yourself scalped by the Eed Indians 
 for the sake of the nuggets with which you were laden. 
 Oho ! I am getting on to forbidden ground again : let 
 us talk of something else. Let me see ; what is a safe 
 subject?" with a desperate glance round the room. 
 
 "The weather," suggested Arnold, decidedly; "tell 
 us what it was like in Poland." 
 
 "The weather! that's just it; a capital subject. 
 You ought to be surprised to see me here alive ; I 
 don't yet understand how I escaped being drowned 
 in the mud. And the expense of the thing too ! I 
 ruined my best uniform-coat the last time I rode out 
 to Snyhinice, and I have been petitioning the captain 
 to buy stilts for the squadron ; but he won't listen to 
 reason." 
 
 "Wouldn't the stilts come more expensive in the 
 end ? " asked Arnold. 
 
 "I^ot near as expensive as the quantity of boots 
 they destroy ; but a jpropos d^ lottes," exclaimed he, ^ / 
 breaking off with a sudden recollection and turning to / 
 Otto, "have you been to the Wieden to see ' Drei 
 Paar Schuhe ' ? Not ! " he went on excitedly, as Otto
 
 CAFE SGHAUM. 15 
 
 shook his head. " Surely, my dear fellow, you do not 
 contemplate leaving Europe without repairing that 
 deficiency ? and I must absolutely drag you there to- 
 night. It will be the fourth time I hear it, and I 
 assure you Geistinger excels herself. Of course Arnold 
 will not leave us in the lurch." 
 
 " I have just taken a box for this evening," inter- 
 posed Captain Kreislich, relapsing into his habitual 
 drawl, and turning more especially to Otto with an air 
 of patronage which called back the frown on his face. 
 
 " If any of you choose to avail yourself of it " but 
 
 his phrase was cut short. 
 
 " You are very kind," interrupted Otto, " but I never 
 go into a box when I can help it ; I should be sorry to 
 trouble you : I intinitely prefer the pit. Langenfald, 
 I am with you." 
 
 " Just as you please," returned the Captain. And as 
 the little circle was broken up and the men rose to 
 go their different ways, a bystander would needs have 
 been blind not to see that those two, who parted so 
 civilly and seemingly so coolly, were deadly enemies, 
 and that the glance with which they measured each 
 other was a glance of hatred.
 
 16 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A FAMILY TREE. 
 
 Said Gaina : * We remember love ourselves 
 In our sweet youth.' " 
 
 — Tennyson : Tlie Princess. 
 
 Paragraph reprinted from a Mexican paper : — 
 
 " The rich Mr Maximilian Boden, loho died lately in 
 
 the neighhourhood of the town of G , at the age of 
 
 seventy-four y is, it is understood, really called Boden- 
 hach, and is nearly related to the baronial family of 
 that name in Austria. This gentleman had curtailed 
 his name in the aforesaid fashion, previous to the 
 making of his large fortune, amounting to several 
 millions^ which he has bequeathed to his 07ily daughter. 
 Miss Olivia Boden, or rather Baroness Olivia Boden- 
 bachr 
 
 Kot being fond of needless mysteries, I will now 
 explain the connection of this paragraph with my 
 story, as well as whatever may require elucidation in 
 the foregoing chapter. 
 
 Baron Walther Bodenbach, father of Arnold and
 
 A FAMILY TREE. 17 
 
 Otto, was a gentleman of good old German family, 
 though of much-dilapidated fortunes. His ancestors 
 had been possessed of considerable property; but thanks 
 to gambling and bad management, this had dwindled 
 down by degrees. The grandfather of the present 
 proprietor, old Baron Arnold Bodenbach, had still 
 further hastened the downfall of his estate, by depart- 
 ing from the hitherto prevalent rule in the family, of 
 leaving the property to the eldest, and divided it be- 
 tween his two sons, Felix and Max — tlie former of 
 whom was the father of the present Baron "Walther. 
 
 The younger one, Max, handsome and dissipated, 
 had made short work of the paternal acres. He had 
 married when a very young man ; his wife died after 
 four years ; and by the time he got his portion he was 
 already deeply in debt. For some years he struggled 
 on ; but day by day saw his patrimony slipping from 
 him, until finally, in 1838, he found himself obliged to 
 make a rapid retreat into another hemisphere, leaving 
 a considerable amount of unpaid debts behind him. 
 His elder brother Felix had a son, Walther (born 
 1814), and he himself a daughter, Olivia, five years 
 younger than her cousin ; and for some time the 
 notion had been entertained of reuniting the family 
 property in their persons. The young people them- 
 selves had taken very kindly to this notion, and some 
 tender passages had passed between them. It was 
 therefore a great blow to them, when one day Felix, 
 having discovered the state of his brother's affairs, 
 peremptorily ordered his son to think no more of 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the match. Walther, although very much attached to 
 the fair Olivia, was of a weak, yielding disposition, 
 and allowed himself to be persuaded that his duty 
 to the Bodenbach name demanded that he should 
 retrieve their fortunes by a wealthy marriage, instead 
 of uniting himself to the daughter of his spendthrift 
 uncle. 
 
 The brothers parted, therefore, with some coolness, as 
 Max would have preferred pursuing his new fortunes 
 unencumbered by his daughter, whom he would have 
 gladly made over to his nephew. Felix was obdurate 
 in opposing this : but this did not prevent him from 
 satisfying to the best of his power his brother's credi- 
 tors; he would suffer no stain to rest on the family 
 name. 
 
 Max was soon lost sight of by his relations, and in 
 1844 a vague report of his death had reached Europe. 
 
 Walther, according to his father's wishes, married in 
 1842 the daughter of a rich banker. 
 
 It was not without a pang that Felix had consented 
 and even urged his son to this marriage ; for hitherto 
 the Bodenbachs had prided themselves much on their 
 purity of blood, and there had been no instance of any 
 one of them taking a hourgeoise wife. 
 
 A word here about the difference in the system of 
 nobility in England and in Germany. In England the 
 line of demarcation as to the untitled aristocracy is 
 often puzzling. Unless you have the family tree of 
 every individual you meet at your fingers' ends, you 
 have no direct means of ascertaining whether, for
 
 A FAMILY TREE. 19 
 
 instance, a Mr Campbell whom you come across is 
 the great-grandson of a blacksmith or of the Duke of 
 Argyll. This always seems to me like weaning them 
 from the title by degrees, as if the shock of coming 
 
 down all at once to plain Mr might be too much 
 
 for their ducal constitutions. 
 
 Again, in England you talk about the aristocracy 
 and the gentry, thus putting the untitled gentry on a 
 lower level, though they may have just as good blood 
 in their veins. 
 
 In Germany this is all different ; you have only to 
 look at a man's calling-card in order to know what he 
 is, and no mistake is possible. Either he has a title 
 or the prefix of von attached to his name, and then he 
 is aclclig (of noble birth); or he has not, and in that 
 case he belongs to the Burger or hourgeois class. 
 
 Nowadays nobility, like everything else, has got 
 cheap. Anybody, for instance, having served for thirty 
 years in the Austrian army, can buy his von for a 
 round sum of money. Many don't do this, of course, 
 preferring the money to the von ; and so it comes that 
 they can go about boasting that it was not worth their 
 while to pick up the crown with five points,^ which 
 might have been theirs for the stooping (and the 
 money). Pdch bankers also, and rich men in general, 
 are often invested with the rank of nobility : but this 
 banker in particular. Baron Walther's father-in-law, 
 
 1 The lowest order of nobility in Germany and Anstria have in their 
 arms a crown with five points; a baron has seven, and a count nine 
 points.
 
 20 "wha.t's in a name?" 
 
 had not been raised from his original class ; and thus, 
 in order to retrieve the family fortunes, Walther was 
 the first Bodenbach who married beneath himself. 
 
 But even a banker for a father-in-law is not always 
 a safeguard against poverty; it did not prove so, at 
 any rate, in this case. The bank failed, and Baroness 
 Bodenbach's fortune perished with the rest. So, by 
 the time his sons were grown up, Walther was a very 
 poor man indeed, possessing only a small estate of the 
 name of Steinbiihl, together with a farm in Styria, 
 and barely sufficient means to keep this up with toler- 
 able comfort. Baroness Bodenbach had died of con- 
 sumption when her youngest child, Gabrielle, was two 
 years old. 
 
 In 1870, two years before this story opens. Baron 
 Walther's health was so evidently failing, that it be- 
 came clear he could no longer manage even the small 
 property by himself, and required the help of one of 
 his sons. Both of these were in the Austrian army, 
 serving in cavalry regiments. His first thought had 
 been to withdraw his younger son from the service : 
 Otto was by no means a very hard-working soldier; 
 while Arnold, having just attained his captaincy, after 
 a brilliantly sustained examination, seemed on the 
 way to make a career, which the father was unwilling 
 to disturb. However, le pere propose et le fils dispose, 
 as is too often in these days. When the proposition 
 was laid before Otto, he chose to consider himself ill- 
 nsed, and could not be persuaded to meet his father's 
 wishes. From the way in which he resented the idea,
 
 A FAMILY TREE. 21 
 
 one would have supposed that in him slumbered the 
 spirit of a Napoleon, destined one day to save his 
 country, and that it would have been a positive in- 
 jury to the nation to withdraw him from the martial 
 ranks. Not that Otto was passionately attached to 
 the military career, the hardships and deprivations of 
 which, in his mind, greatly outweighed the glory ; but 
 he foresaw that the change would in no way bring him 
 advantage, and would be less congenial to his tastes 
 even than his present occupation. But Otto did not 
 intend to pass his life this way ; his great scheme was 
 to marry richly, and then throw off his military fetters 
 and live at his ease. He would have no fortune of 
 his own ; but with his share of good looks, the fulfil- 
 ment of his hopes did not seem unlikely. 
 
 Otto proving intractable, then, Arnold had to throw 
 up, for a time at least, his profession. He left the 
 army, keeping only his title of captain, and the right 
 to re-enter at any future period or in case of war. 
 
 Such was the state of things in the autumn of 1871, 
 when one day, as Baron Walther was breakfasting 
 with his daughter Gabrielle, Arnold, who had ridden 
 over to the neighbouring town early that morning, 
 entered in a rather more excited manner than was 
 his wont. 
 
 " Good morning, father. How are you, Gabrielle ? " 
 
 "What is the news?" inquired the old man; "you 
 look as if something particular had occurred." 
 
 " Here is something that will make you stare," 
 said Arnold, drawing a newspaper from his pocket
 
 22 "what's in a name?" 
 
 and unfolding it. He pointed to the paragraph which 
 has been quoted at the beginning of this chapter. The 
 paper was an obscure local one, and the paragraph in 
 question reprinted from a Mexican journal. 
 
 " What do you make of it ? Surely it can be no 
 other than your uncle Max ; the age tallies exactly." 
 
 Apparently the old Baron could not make much of 
 it ; he got flurried, and stared at the paper in bewilder- 
 ment — his mind utterly confused by this new idea 
 being suddenly brought before him, 
 
 " Do not speak so quick, Arnold. Dear me ! surely 
 uncle Max is not dead again ? Why, then, he must be 
 alive, after all. Let me see — no ; can't you help me to 
 understand it all ? " 
 
 Gabrielle, who had only understood that somebody 
 was dead, here began to cry, according to her invariable 
 habit, when anything out of the common occurred. 
 
 " Don't be silly, Gabrielle ; there is nothing to cry 
 about," said Arnold, impatiently. Then to his father : 
 " I don't think it is very difficult to understand ; uncle 
 Max is dead, quite dead," he added, emphatically ; " but 
 he only died a few months ago, instead of thirty years 
 ago, as we have always supposed on very insufiBcient 
 grounds ; and he has left all his money to his daughter." 
 
 " But he never had any money. I don't think it 
 can be him, after all. Are you certain it is him, 
 Arnold?" 
 
 " No, I am not certain, of course — it is only a con- 
 jecture ; but it seems to me not unlikely. Uncle 
 Max would not be the first person, besides, who has
 
 A FAMILY TEEE. 23 
 
 made a fortune for himself; although I have no doubt 
 the reports are exaggerated." 
 
 " So he has made a fortune, then; and you say he has 
 left it to his daughter ? " 
 
 " The paper says so, at least. You must remember 
 her, of course. How old can she be now, I wonder ? " 
 
 " Dear me ! Why, that is Livia. Of course, of course. 
 Much about Gabrielle's age, I shooild think. Not 
 exactly that either," he added, mournfully ; " for that 
 was thirty-two years ago, and I suppose she has got 
 older." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Arnold, drily. 
 
 " And she has remained unmarried. I wonder why, 
 and whether she ever thinks of old times. So she is 
 rich, too," the old man went on, having finally mastered 
 the subject. 
 
 " Who is rich ? " asked Gabrielle, drying her tears. 
 " I don't understand what it is all about." 
 
 " The daughter of grandpapa's brother Max," began 
 Arnold, but his father interrupted him. 
 
 " No, no, that is not the way. You will never make 
 her understand. I will make it out on paper for her." 
 
 " There is nothing to make out that I can see ; the 
 matter is as simple as possible." 
 
 The old Baron, however, was persistent; and as 
 Gabrielle had certainly not understood her brother's 
 explanation. Baron Walther got a large sheet of paper, 
 on which he made out the thing for his own satisfac- 
 tion, as well as for his daughter's enlightenment. 
 
 "How far back shall I go, Arnold? I think, to
 
 24 "what's in a name?" 
 
 make it quite clear, it would be best to begin with 
 my grandfather's great-grandfather, who was born in 
 1660." 
 
 " Tor heaven's sake, no, father ! If you will make out 
 this family tree, better begin with your grandfather ; 
 the estate was never divided till then." 
 
 Here is the result of the Baron's work : — 
 
 AKNOLD, 
 died 1830. 
 
 Felix, Max, 
 
 born 1789 ; married 1813 ; born 1797 ; married 1818 
 
 died 1844. (to Anna, Countess Leerodt) ; 
 I died 1871. 
 
 Walther, Olivia, 
 
 born 1814 ; married 1842 born 1819. 
 
 (to Gabrielle Hoffmann). 
 
 Arnold, Otto, Gabrielle, 
 
 born 1845. born 1846. born 1856. 
 
 For the next few days nothing was talked of but 
 this wonderful news. It was viewed in every possible 
 light, and worn almost threadbare with constant dis- 
 cussion. The Baron employed himself in hunting up 
 from drawers and boxes a miscellaneous collection of 
 objects, which had once been the property of his fair 
 cousin Olivia, — a white kid-glove; a packet of dead 
 rose-leaves ; a roll of music (old songs of hers) ; and, 
 finally, a chalk- sketch, very much out of drawing, 
 representing a young lady, very much out of date, with 
 a wasp-like waist, smooth bands of hair that shone like 
 a mirror, a pair of black arched eyebrows, and a self- 
 satisfied simper on her face. These several treasures
 
 A FAMILY TREE. ' 25 
 
 he displayed to his son, and assured him, at great 
 length, that he had never known a moment's peace or 
 happiness since he parted from his cousin. Arnold 
 thought to himself that his father seemed to have got 
 on wonderfully well without peace or happiness ; but 
 he humoured the old man's fancies, and tried to listen 
 to his long-winded stories. 
 
 In the meantime, however, his own thoughts were 
 taking a more practical turn. This strange piece of 
 news, which had come to them in a roundabout way 
 through the papers, might, of course, prove to be with- 
 out foundation; but there were as many possibilities in 
 its favour as against it : at any rate, it was a chance not 
 to be lost, and certainly it was worth while sounding. 
 
 This uncle of theirs, who, as it now seemed, had'died 
 rich, had been under considerable obligations to their 
 grandfather, who had impoverished himself by his 
 generosity. It was therefore not improbable that his 
 daughter, being wealthy and unmarried, and having 
 perhaps also some tender recollections of her cousin 
 Walther, might be disposed to make up for these losses. 
 The sum lent was in itself not a laroje one, but in their 
 position a great object ; and Arnold felt it to be his 
 duty not to let this unlooked-for chance escape. He 
 proposed to his father to write at once to Olivia, and 
 honestly lay the state of the case before her. There 
 were no means, of course, of proving the debt legally ; 
 but it was to be supposed that she would naturally be 
 willing to pay it without any such proofs. But here 
 Arnold met with an unlooked-for obstacle in his father's
 
 26 "what's m A NAME?'* 
 
 exaggerated sense of delicacy. ISTotliing on earth would 
 induce the Baron to write such a letter to his cousin. 
 
 " It would never do, Arnold," he exclaimed one day 
 when his son was pressing him hard on this point — " it 
 would really never do. Just consider the delicate posi- 
 tion I am in towards her ! Any young girl in her 
 place would feel hurt at being asked for money by 
 one who once aspired to her hand." 
 
 " But, father, it would surely be madness to let this 
 false delicacy interfere with your asking for what, after 
 all, is your right. Think over it ; there are three of us 
 to be provided for. Otto and I can manage for our- 
 selves ; but Gabrielle ! " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure ; poor little Gabrielle,'' answered the 
 father ; " but then just fancy, for instance, if any fellow 
 who had wanted to marry Gabrielle twenty years ago 
 were to write her a begging letter now ! How dreadful 
 it would be ! What would the poor child do ? " 
 
 "Begin to cry, of course," unhesitatingly replied 
 Arnold, " if such a curious event were to occur ; but 
 then everybody does not go in for tears as plentifully 
 as she does. Let us hope that my aunt Olivia has more 
 strength of mind." 
 
 " Of course she has. Olivia is very brave — yes, very 
 brave indeed for a girl ; and when you consider that she 
 is only eighteen. I remember " 
 
 "But I don't consider her to be only eighteen," 
 almost shouted Arnold into his father's ear ; " she is 
 fifty-two if she is a day." 
 
 " Yes, yes, to be sure ; I was only forgetting. I see
 
 A FAMILY TREE. 27 
 
 now. What a pity, to be sure ! But I wish, Arnold, 
 you would not speak so loud — it confuses one so." 
 
 After having, with immense difficulty, wrung an un- 
 willing consent from his father, Arnold sat down and 
 penned the following epistle i — 
 
 " My dear Aunt " (I suppose I must address her as 
 aunt; it would hardly do to begin cousining an old 
 lady), — " I hope I am not presuming too much upon 
 the interest which, I trust, you still feel for your only^ 
 remaining relations, in addressing you thus. My signa- 
 ture will convey no recollection to your mind, as I was 
 not born till eight years after you had left this country; 
 and as you have probably never heard of my existence, 
 I must introduce myself to you as Arnold Bodeirbach, 
 your nephew, or, more properly speaking, first cousin 
 once removed, eldest son of Baron Walther Bodenbach, 
 whose name you surely will not have forgotten. It 
 was only last week, through a chance, that we became 
 acquainted with the fact that our father's uncle, Maxi- 
 milian, whom we had believed dead since 1844, had 
 lived till within the last six months, and had died pos- 
 sessed of considerable fortune. It is many years now 
 since these two branches of the family have been 
 estranged and lost sight of each other ; but there is 
 no reason why this should continue, and I venture to 
 hope that you are as ready as we are to renew our 
 connection. 
 
 "I will not beat about the bush, nor pretend that my 
 motive in addressing you is other than an interested
 
 28 "what's in a name?" 
 
 one. You, wlio of course remember the unfortunate 
 circumstances attending on your departure from 
 Europe thirty-two years ago, may perhaps have 
 heard that my grandfather, wishing to screen the 
 family name, advanced a sum of five thousand florins, 
 all he could afford, to satisfy the most pressing 
 amonfjst his brother's creditors. Neither his son nor 
 his grandchildren have ever repented this step, having 
 always regarded it as a matter of course, which ad- 
 mitted of no choice, and that in a question of this 
 kind, between money and the honour of a family 
 name, the former must be unhesitatingly sacrificed. 
 The idea that either your father or his descendants 
 might ever be able to repay the sum alluded to, had 
 never entered into our calculations ; and I need hardly 
 say that the subject would never have been broached, 
 on our side at least, had we not thus accidentally 
 ascertained that you were probably in a position to 
 repay, without inconvenience, a sum which, though 
 trifling in itself, is, I am not ashamed to say, of im- 
 mense importance to us. 
 
 "Since you left Europe, fortune, which seems to have 
 favoured you, has turned her back on my father. It 
 is doubtful whether we shall be able to retain the only 
 remnant of our family estate, small as it is. My 
 brother Otto and I are serving in the Austrian 
 cavalry, and will always be able to carve out some 
 sort of a future for ourselves. It is principally for the 
 sake of my father, whose health has long been failing, 
 and for that of my sister Gabrielle, that I am obliged
 
 A FAMILY TREE. 29 
 
 to address yoii on this subject. My father was very 
 unwilling that you should be importuned about this ; 
 doubtless the former relations in which he stood to 
 you make him feel an excess of delicacy about this 
 matter. I hope you will agree with me that honesty 
 is the best policy in these cases, and not resent my 
 plain speaking. 
 
 "If chance or inclination should bring you to Europe, 
 you will believe, I hope, that we will all be ready to 
 welcome you as our nearest relative., 
 
 "Allow me to sign myself your affectionate though 
 unknown nephew, 
 
 "Arnold von Bodenbach." 
 
 " That will never do, Arnold ; it is far too dr;f and 
 stiff," exclaimed the old Baron, after reading the letter, 
 which his son handed him for perusal ; " you should 
 have said more about affection, and that I remember 
 her so handsome ; and you might have mentioned the 
 chalk-drawing. Why, this is a mere business letter." 
 
 "That is exactly what I meant it to be," replied 
 Arnold. "If she is a woman of sense, she will not think 
 the worse of me because I do not feign an affection 
 which I cannot possibly feel for an unknown person." 
 
 So Arnold, deaf to his father's remonstrances, folded 
 and sealed his letter, addressing it to Miss Boden, alias 
 Baroness Olivia von Bodenbach, under cover to the 
 
 magistrate of the town of G ; and ordering his 
 
 horse, he set off to register and despatch the writing 
 with his own hands.
 
 30 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 UNCLES IN AMERICA. 
 
 The important news had of course been duly communi- 
 cated to Otto; but lie did not seem disposed to lay 
 much stress upon it, declaring in a Uas6 manner that 
 every one knew what "uncles in America" meant. For 
 once in a way, however, this much - discredited and 
 •usually-disbelieved-in relative proved better than his 
 reputation, for in course of time the following eagerly- 
 looked-for answer to Arnold's letter arrived : — 
 
 " My dear Nephew, — How time flies, to be sure 1 " 
 (" Eather a flippant beginning," interpolated Arnold, 
 who was reading aloud). "^Thirty -six j^ears since I 
 left Europe ! quite an eternity, — it is so easy to lose 
 count. My deliglit was great at finding that I have 
 two nephews and a niece, dating since my departure 
 from Austria. I shall be only too delighted to be as 
 good and as useful an aunt to them as I can. 
 
 " I believe people have talked a good deal of rub- 
 bish about my fortune, but there is some truth at the
 
 "UNCLES IN AMEEICA." 31 
 
 bottom ; for I really have got a great deal of money 
 — more than I know what to do with. The worst is, 
 that I cannot do exactly what I like with it. 
 
 " But you are not to suppose that my father was 
 utterly oblivious of his obligations towards his brother. 
 Before his death (in July last) he desired me to make 
 inquiries about his brother's descendants, and laid 
 me under the obligation of repaying the sum which, 
 he had reason to suppose, had been advanced by his 
 brother. 
 
 " The bulk of his fortune he has left to me, his only 
 daughter ; but a certain portion he has disposed of 
 otherwise, — but into this I do not wish to enter at 
 present, 
 
 "As to my father's last wishes, you have made* my 
 task easier by giving me the clue to your exact where- 
 abouts, which was amissing. I have already taken 
 steps to have the sum in question, as well as the com- 
 pound interest, repaid through my bankers. 
 
 " This is all the business part of my letter, I think. 
 I hope I have expressed myself clearly. 
 
 " T am very anxious to make the acquaintance of my 
 nephews and niece ; could not something be managed ? 
 At my age, you would surely not expect me to cross 
 the ocean in order to visit you ; but "fyou, who are, I 
 hope, strong, young men, would perhaps manage, at 
 least one of you, to come over and pay a visit to your 
 poor old aunt. 
 
 " Of course you will understand that I could not 
 suffer you on that account to incur any expense. If
 
 32 "what's in a name?" 
 
 you put yourself out to humour the whim of an old 
 woman, you must at least allow me to do that much. 
 
 " I will not touch upon the painful circumstances of 
 my departure from Europe ; and I can fully under- 
 stand the reasons which kept your father silent at 
 present. To me it is still more impossible to allude to 
 that time. 
 
 " Good-bye now, my dearest nephews, not forgetting 
 my niece Gabrielle. Please think over my plan, and 
 let me hear soon from you. — Your affectionate old 
 aunt, Olivia Bodenbach. 
 
 " F.S. — I am so glad you are both soldiers ; I have a 
 passion for uniforms, especially cavalry." 
 
 A joyful family scene followed the reading of this 
 letter. 
 
 " There, that is what I call satisfactory," said Arnold, 
 laying it down with a sigh of relief Gabrielle clapped 
 her hands and danced about. The old Baron positively 
 had tears in his eyes. 
 
 " Give me the letter, Arnold. Are you sure there are 
 no more messages in it ? She surely might have said 
 more about old times." 
 
 " Well, father, you could hardly expect her to begin 
 about that herself," said his son, laughing, " especially 
 as you had shirked writing to her." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; that is true. I must write now. But 
 let me see the letter." Then, as his son handed it to 
 him, " Dear me ! I shouldn't have recognised her hand-
 
 "UNCLES IN AMERICA. 33 
 
 writing. I suppose she has got out of the habit of 
 writing in Mexico." 
 
 •'The only objection I see to the whole business," 
 said Arnold, " is, that it seems too good to be true ; 
 it has all gone as smoothly as a fairy tale. I hope 
 there is not a screw loose somewhere ; although, again, 
 I don't see how that can well be. Is it not rather 
 odd, by the by, that an old lady of her age should be 
 so enthusiastic about cavalry officers 1 " 
 
 " Not at all, not at all, I assure you. Dear Olivia 
 always was so affectionate. Of course she is thinking 
 of the time when she saw me as a dragoon.'* 
 
 The old man was now as eager as he had before been 
 unwilling to write, and spent the whole forenoon in 
 covering numberless sheets of paper with beginnifigs, 
 so that by dinner-time the paper-basket was heaped 
 with these unsuccessful attempts. By evening, how- 
 ever, he had succeeded in producing the following 
 composition : — 
 
 " My dearly - BELOVED Cousin Olivia, — I can no 
 longer resist the impulse of my heart, which forces me 
 to address these words to you. Believe me, it was not 
 coldness which kept me silent before ; but how could 
 I tell whether your heart had been as constant in its 
 affection as mine has been, or whether, perhaps, some 
 newer image had not replaced the dream of your 
 youth 1 But no ! How could I for a moment do my 
 Olivia such injustice ! 
 
 " In your declining to allude to the past, I have 
 vol. i. c
 
 34 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the best proof that your feelings are unchanged. Of 
 course you could not discuss this delicate subject 
 with a third person; in this I only recognise your 
 usual tact. 
 
 " I need not tell you that life, since your departure, 
 has been to me but a dreary blank. Fate has been 
 very cruel to us ; and never can I forget that you 
 ought to have been the mother of my children. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I entreat you, in memory of old times, 
 to regard them with maternal affection. It is just 
 like your kindness, wanting to see your nephews. I 
 wonder whether you will trace any resemblance to 
 their unfortunate father ? I am sure I would not find 
 you changed since we last parted" (he was going to 
 have said, " that my sons will not find you changed," 
 but corrected this in time), " could I have the happi- 
 ness to see you now. 
 
 "I cannot let both my sons leave me at once; so 
 I shall send my eldest, Arnold, who is at present free 
 from military duties. Otto will perhaps, at some 
 future period, have the pleasure of being introduced 
 to his aunt. 
 
 " He might start in April ; but we will wait to see 
 whether this time suits you. 
 
 " So, dearest Olivia, I will end these lines here ; my 
 hand is shaking so, that I cannot trust myself further. 
 — Believe me to be, ever your most truly faithful and 
 loving cousin, Walthee von Bodenbach. 
 
 "P.>S'.— Do you remember the 25th of June 1837?"
 
 "UNCLES IN AMERICA." 35 
 
 To this Arnold added a few lines thanking his aunt 
 for the speedy remittance of the five thousand florins, 
 and expressing his pleasure at the prospect of his visit 
 to Mexico. 
 
 And in truth Arnold was really looking forward to 
 this unexpected change in his monotonous life. He 
 always had had a longing for travel, without the oppor- 
 tunity, or even the prospect, of gratifying this taste. 
 Lately, too, he had been working pretty hard, his 
 father not being able to afford an overseer. His de- 
 parture was fixed for April, that being the time when 
 he could best be spared ; and he only waited for his 
 aunt's final answer before completing his preparations. 
 But his pleasant anticipations were not destined to be 
 realised. 
 
 Otto had naturally been kept aufait of the Mexican 
 correspondence. Since his first disparaging remarks, he 
 had passed over the subject in contemptuous silence. 
 Arnold, therefore, was not a little surprised, one day 
 towards the end of February, on receiving the follow- 
 ing telegram from his brother : — 
 
 " Must see you about plans. Implore you to take no 
 steps ahout Mexico till then. Shall arrive on Tuesday. 
 
 " Otto." 
 
 " Now, Otto, what is this all about ? Your telegram 
 nearly frightened my father into a fit. I had the 
 greatest difficulty in pacifying him. He would insist 
 that you were coming home because you were danger- 
 ously ill. Would not a letter have done as well ? "
 
 36 "what's IN A NAME?" 
 
 It was Tuesday, and the two brothers were driving 
 in the dog-cart from the station towards home. 
 
 " Well, the fact is," began Otto, plunging headlong 
 into the subject, but nevertheless looking rather em- 
 barrassed, "I am in a dreadful fix, and you are the 
 only person who can help me out of it." 
 Arnold did not look much astonished at this beginning. 
 
 " I half expected something of this sort, Otto ; but 
 I don't see how I in particular should be able to help 
 you out of any fix. Come, let's hear — out with it." 
 
 " Promise me first that you will never breathe a word 
 to my father about it." 
 
 " I suppose it is imprudent, but I promise." 
 
 " Now," said Otto, " I suppose I had better go at it 
 at once ; I must get it over before I reach home. The 
 long and the short of it is that I am in debt, and toler- 
 ably much so too." 
 
 The elder brother did not answer at once, and his 
 expression remained unchanged. 
 
 " What is the amount, Otto ? Better make a clean 
 breast of it at once." 
 
 " Oh, up to my ears, and over them too." 
 
 "Well, but that is not very explicit. Cannot you 
 tell me something clearer ? " 
 
 " If you must know it, between two and three thou- 
 sand florins," replied Otto, ruefully ; " rather nearer the 
 three, in fact." 
 
 Here Arnold's expression did change; he gave a 
 long whistle, and then said — 
 
 " Nearly three thousand florins ! How have you
 
 "UNCLES IN AMEEICA." 37 
 
 managed that, Otto? If you had been living in 
 Vienna it would be more comprehensible ; but in that 
 out-of-the-way hole, Ezezulow " 
 
 " It is not my fault," said Otto, doggedly. 
 
 " Whose fault, then ? " with a little impatience. 
 
 " Whose but that hound's ! " burst out Otto, with a 
 violent gesture and a gleam of suppressed hatred in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Kreislich, I suppose you mean," completed Arnold 
 calmly, instantly recognising Otto's captain under that 
 opprobrious designation. " Come, Otto, be reasonable. 
 You hate the man, I know. I don't care for him my- 
 self; but as for ascribing all the evils of your life to 
 him, that is nonsense." 
 
 " Of course I hate the man," muttered Otto, drawinsr 
 a deep, hard breath. " But do you call it nonsense 
 entrapping a fellow into making ducks and drakes of 
 his hardly-earned pay at macao ? " 
 
 " Entrapping ? " repeated Arnold. 
 
 " Yes. Do you think I could stand by quietly while 
 that great brute is openly boasting of his fortune — 
 openly complaining that he cannot find a second man 
 in the regiment who can afford to gamble with him, 
 and making covert hits at my inability to do so ? Yes, 
 mine in particular, — it was me he aimed at. He is 
 my evil genius ; he w^as so, that time five years ago, 
 and he is so now, — always in my path." 
 
 " And was that enough to entrap you into spending 
 money which you actually did not possess? " Arnold's 
 tone was singularly dry as he spoke.
 
 38 "WHA^T'S in a name?" 
 
 " Oh, it's all very well for a cold - blooded fellow 
 like you to talk. I have got into the scrape, and the 
 question is how to get out of it. Of course I could 
 not sleep a night in his debt — I paid him within an 
 hour of the loss, but I had to raise the money at fifty 
 per cent from the Jews." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me sooner ? " 
 
 " Oh, I always hoped it would come right somehow 
 — Countess Halka, for instance ; but things have got 
 to such a crisis now, that I positively don't know 
 what to do. The old Hebrew (I wish he were at the 
 bottom of the Eed Sea) who advanced me the money, 
 has my written word of honour that in five months' 
 time I will have it paid; and should I not be able 
 to do so, you know what that means — court-martial, 
 kicked out of the service, and all the rest of the de- 
 lightful process," he concluded, grimly. 
 
 Arnold looked very grave. 
 
 ''A pity you did not consider these pleasant con- 
 sequences sooner." 
 
 "Oh, of course; everybody always says that after- 
 wards. For heaven's sake, don't moralise, but help me 
 to get out of the scrape ! " 
 
 " Well, but what do you want me to do ? Do you 
 suppose I have got three thousand florins in my 
 pocket ? You know that uncle Max's debt is all gone 
 to pay off those mortgages." 
 
 Otto moved uneasily on his seat, and answered his 
 brother's question by another. 
 
 " Tell me, Arnold, are you so very much set upon
 
 "UNCLES IN AMERICA. 39 
 
 this Mexican expedition?" Arnold was silent for 
 a minute; he began to perceive the direction his 
 brother's thoughts were taking. 
 
 *'I suppose you mean that you would like to go in 
 my place ; is that it, Otto ? " 
 
 " Well," answered the other, with increasing embar- 
 rassment, " that is about it ; but of course I should never 
 dream of going if you cared at all about the matter." 
 
 "I certainly am very anxious to go, and have 
 been looking forward to it ever since the matter was 
 broached ; besides, I cannot see why this would neces- 
 sarily better your condition. Any money which aunt 
 Olivia may be disposed to give us, will most likely 
 not be till after her death ; and if uncle Max has left 
 us anything, it will come to you just the same. In 
 any case, you know surely that I would do my best 
 for you." 
 
 " Of course I know that ; but then, you know, it is 
 never the same thing. Everybody has not got the 
 knack of persuading, and I have often been told that 
 I can always manage to get round people." 
 
 "In plain language, then, you do not consider my 
 fascinations equal to the task," laughed the elder 
 brother; "eh, Otto?" 
 
 " I wish you would not always interpret my ideas 
 so unpleasantly ; but you see, you are rather reserved 
 and grave, and all that style of thing, and I don't 
 think old ladies like that." 
 
 " No, nor young ones either," replied Arnold, highly 
 amused. He was perfectly aware that in society his
 
 40 "what's in a nameT' 
 
 brother always outshone him, and never failed to en- 
 list on his side the sympathies of the fair sex ; but this 
 knowledge troubled him little. 
 
 Next day Arnold announced briefly to his father 
 that Otto was going in his place to Mexico ; and the 
 old Baron, who was easily satisfied, asked no incon- 
 venient questions. 
 
 Immediately after this decision Otto's spirits rose 
 wonderfully; his thoughts ran without interruption 
 on the brilliant future that was to be his, when he 
 should return rich from Mexico and marry Countess 
 Halka. He went back to his regiment buoyant with 
 hope, and scarcely able to await the reply which was 
 finally to decide the date of his departure. 
 
 Everything went smoothly after this ; the expected 
 reply came, and was as satisfactory as ever reply was. 
 
 "I shall be delighted," wrote aunt Olivia, "to see 
 whichever of my nephews chooses to come, and can 
 assure him that he will find no cause to regret having 
 done so." 
 
 Further on, in alluding to what Baron Walther had 
 said about herself, she wrote : " I was deeply touched 
 at what you said in your letter about old times. 
 
 " I will do my best to be a mother to your children, 
 if they will accept me as such. I am looking forward 
 very eagerly to the visit in store for me ; it will be a 
 delightful break in my monotonous life — for I always 
 live very quietly, alone with my companion." 
 
 The letter concluded with many affectionate pro- 
 testations, and all the directions necessary.
 
 41 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 P I T E. 
 
 Otto awoke late on the first morning of his voyage ; 
 the breakfast-hour was past, and he sat down to a 
 solitary meal in the cabin. He had meant to be up 
 in time to see the last of land; but before he* had 
 opened his eyes, the last of land had been seen, and 
 the horizon was nothing but a mass of glittering, 
 dancing green wavelets. 
 
 " Please, Herr Oberlieutenant, I have made the tea," 
 said his servant, approaching with the teapot. 
 
 " Confoundedly weak it looks ! " exclaimed Otto, as 
 he poured out a little. 
 
 " No, please, Herr Oberlieutenant, it is not weak, but 
 only the cabin is too light ; that makes it look weak." 
 
 " Don't talk rubbish, but go and fetch more tea." 
 
 " Please, Herr Oberlieutenant, there isn't any more ; 
 I put it all in." 
 
 "The whole pound-packet I brought with me, do 
 you mean, yoa ass?" asked Otto, aghast. 
 
 " Oh no, please, it was not nearly a pound, not even
 
 42 "what's in a name?" 
 
 an ounce. It was that little parcel in pink paper and 
 with a blue ribbon round it." 
 
 "Pink paper and a blue ribbon!" cried Otto, hor- 
 rified, rising to his feet with a bound and tearing the 
 teapot out of Piotr's hand, which made the servant 
 fairly lose his balance. 
 
 One or two gentlemen who were reading papers at 
 the other end of the cabin looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Why, those are the dead rose-leaves my father is 
 sending to aunt Olivia! What have you done, you 
 thundering idiot?" 
 
 It was too true ; Piotr had made tea with the rose- 
 leaves. 'No wonder it was weak. 
 
 "Please, Herr Oberlieutenant, I thought it didn't 
 look like tea ; but you told me to look in your port- 
 manteau." 
 
 " But I didn't tell you to put the whole contents of 
 my portmanteau into the teapot," growled his master. 
 " You have got me into a nice scrape, with your stupid- 
 ity. Go and make some proper tea at once, and don't 
 put in my tooth-powder or my soap this time, by way 
 of a variety." 
 
 Some slight description of Piotr may here not be 
 amiss. He was Otto's Polish soldier- servant, or, more 
 properly speaking, unsoldier-servant, having been ap- 
 pointed to the post of his Bursch or valet when a raw 
 recruit. Otto had formerly served in a Polish lancer 
 regiment, and when transferred to the hussars, had 
 imported this valuable domestic, whom he had got 
 used to, in spite of his peculiarities. That Piotr had
 
 PIOTK. 43 
 
 never served, was evident to the most casual observer, 
 so completely was his way of balancing himself from 
 one leg to the other, as well as the ingenious objections 
 he was fond of raising to every order, at variance with 
 the discipline of military drilling. Otto, however, de- 
 clared that no amount of drilling would ever have made 
 him stand on both legs at once, like other mortals ; but 
 attributed this, and many peculiarities, to his hopeless 
 indecision of character. 
 
 Piotr certainly did not seem the sort of servant to 
 take with one to Mexico, especially as, on the smallest 
 provocation, his presence of mind was apt to forsake 
 him entirely. Arnold had at first strongly dissuaded 
 his brother from doing so, principally on account of the 
 unnecessary expense. But Otto had a notion that it 
 looked better to be travelling with a servant, and might 
 make a difference in the eyes of his old relative ; be- 
 sides, he was fond of his comfort. 
 
 Piotr was about twenty-three at this time. In ap- 
 pearance he was fair, slight, had wandering blue eyes, 
 with a somewhat vacant expression. When going in 
 or out of a room, he invariably gave one the impres- 
 sion, somehow, that only the merest chance enabled 
 him to hit off the door, and that he might just as well 
 have gone clean through the window or bang against 
 the wall. His two great characteristics were — always 
 to carry twice as much as he could manage comfort- 
 ably, and his dislike to obey any order on the spot. 
 He would always look round for something else to do 
 first. This last eccentricity seemed to arise from a
 
 44 "WHA^T'S in a name?" 
 
 confused idea that by this method he was economising 
 time. 
 
 We are not going to inflict upon the reader a minute 
 account of Otto's first day on board ship, or of any of 
 the other days ; nor to weary him with a catalogue of 
 the passengers — of the young ladies whom he flirted 
 with (for of course there were young ladies, and of 
 course he did flirt with some of them) — of the old 
 ladies whom he did not flirt with — of the men whom he 
 smoked and chatted with ; nor yet with a description 
 of the conversations at meals, or a list of the dishes 
 which either agreed or disagreed with the partakers, 
 according to their seafaring capabilities and to the 
 state of the weather. 
 
 On the third day of the voyage the weather became 
 unfavourable to most inexperienced travellers. Com- 
 fort was banished from the deck, where Otto was 
 smoking his afternoon cigar ; and in a state of some 
 irritation he made his way down-stairs, only to find 
 that he had come from Charybdis to Scylla. 
 
 He passed on towards his own cabin, attracted by 
 a monotonous droning sound which seemed to be issu- 
 ing from it. As he entered the little washing-place 
 outside the cabin, he stumbled over something on 
 the ground, and the monotonous sound came to an 
 abrupt conclusion. On examination, the object on 
 the ground proved to be a pair of legs, which Otto 
 recognised as belonging to his servant. He pulled 
 aside the curtain which partially screened the place, 
 and there lay Piotr at full length, his head resting
 
 PIOTR. 45 
 
 on a carpet-bag. He was the author of the dismal 
 sound — namely, a Euthenian hymn, which he was 
 singing by way of a preparation to his, as he thought, 
 rapidly approaching end. 
 
 " What, in the name of all that is wonderful, is this 
 about?" exclaimed Otto, stopping short in surprise. 
 "Why are you sprawling here like a starfish, you 
 great hulking donkey ? " 
 
 " Thank you, Herr Oberlieutenant," began Piotr, in a 
 shaking voice ; " you have been a kind master to me, 
 and I am sorry to leave you." 
 
 " To leave me ! Where the dickens are you going 
 to, you extraordinary ass ? " 
 
 " To heaven, I hope ! " returned Piotr, solemnly, " if 
 God will have mercy on my sins." 
 
 " Oh, that is all, is it ? " said Otto, in a tone of im- 
 mense relief, as the state of the case dawned upon 
 him. " I thought there was something really the 
 matter with you. You have made so many false 
 starts in that direction already since I have known 
 you, that I hardly think you are in any immediate 
 danger of getting there. There now, get up this 
 minute, and if you really are squeamish, get away 
 to your berth; but don't lie sprawling here like a 
 living man -trap which unwary travellers must fall 
 into. I suppose I shall have to manage for myself 
 to-night." 
 
 Otto did manage for himself that night, and seve- 
 ral other nights, before Piotr perfectly recovered the 
 balance of his legs and of his spirits. After that
 
 46 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the voyage was prosperous. The days passed for Otto 
 pleasantly enough, between the young ladies before 
 alluded to and his Virginia cigars. He had nothing 
 to complain of; even the loss of aunt Olivia's rose- 
 leaves was remedied by the kindness of a blue-eyed 
 damsel, who bestowed upon him the centre rose of her 
 bouquet, no doubt fondly believing that the precious 
 flower was destined to hold in future a tender place 
 about his person. Whether Otto had given grounds 
 for this belief, I really cannot say. 
 
 As they neared the end of the voyage, the weather 
 became magnificent. Sea and sky began to assume 
 that deep blue peculiar to the tropical regions ; the 
 pale uncertain stars of our climes had turned into 
 large, glowing orbs. 
 
 Within four weeks of his departure. Otto, after turn- 
 ing his back on Vera Cruz, found himself jolting along 
 bad Mexican roads, the discomfort of this mode of 
 locomotion amply balanced by the delight and novelty 
 of the tropical scenery around him. Next day he 
 abandoned the main road and the diligence, exchanging 
 it for a light primitive vehicle which had been sent to 
 meet him. 
 
 They drove off on a rough track, leading in the 
 direction of the mountains. The country, as they 
 proceeded further into it, did not belie its promise 
 of beauty. At every turn the scenery appeared more 
 wildly romantic, the vegetation increased in luxuriance 
 and tropical splendour. After the burning heat of the 
 day, the coolness of the evening was delightfully re-
 
 PIOTR. 47 
 
 freshing; and Otto found his drive most enjoyable, 
 until the sudden fall of darkness hid from him the 
 varied panorama. 
 
 Having now nothing more to look at, he had ample 
 time to turn his thoughts towards the termination of 
 his journey, which was now so near at hand ; to con- 
 jure up in his mind images of his unknown relative, 
 and speculate upon their approaching meeting. For 
 the first time he began now to wonder what sort of a 
 person his aunt was, and how he was to greet her. 
 
 "I hope it is all right," he reflected. "This must 
 surely be the place. I must try and find out from the 
 driver something about the old lady that may give me 
 my cue in addressing her." 
 
 Otto accordingly attempted some conversation with 
 the man ; but he proved unapproachable, speaking only 
 some bad Spanish and the dialect of the country. 
 
 " I see there is nothing to be done in this direction," 
 thought Otto, with a sigh ; " but I shall soon see for 
 myself, for we cannot be far off now. Arnold did say 
 once that he thought there might be a screw loose 
 somewhere. What if the old lady is a myth, after all, 
 and I have come on a fool's errand ? " 
 
 The vehicle now turned aside into a smaller branch- 
 road, which seemed, as far as he could judge from the 
 decreased jolting, to be rather better kept. 
 
 He saw lights glimmering through the trees, and in 
 another minute they had drawn up before a house, the 
 shape of which he could only dimly discern. 
 
 A dog rushed out barking, and an old woman came
 
 48 "what's in a name?" 
 
 forward with a lantern. Otto jumped off the vehicle, 
 a little stiff with his long drive ; and leaving Piotr to 
 collect his luggage as best he could, he stepped into 
 the house, through the low veranda which jutted 
 out, looking about him curiously in the dark, and say- 
 ing to himself, mentally, "Now for aunt Olivia !"
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 AUNT OLIVIA. 
 
 If there was a screw loose, it certainly was not visible 
 anywhere. 
 
 Otto was shown into a large, roomy apartment, 
 furnished with the utmost simplicity, but with evi- 
 dence of good taste : the floor covered with matting ; 
 the walls and ceiling whitewashed; the furniture, 
 principally low couches and ottomans, all uniformly 
 covered with a broadly-striped red-and-white chintz. 
 Curtains of the same chintz hung over the windows, 
 or rather the doors ; for all the windows in this room 
 went down to the ground and opened on to the 
 veranda outside. A hanging-lamp threw a moderate 
 light over these objects ; so that, although coming from 
 utter darkness, Otto was not dazzled, and could take 
 in the room at a glance. 
 
 Another light, a small reading-lamp, stood on a low 
 table at the further end, placed conveniently beside an 
 arm-chair ; this arm-chair occupied by an old lady. 
 
 As Otto entered, she rose slowly to her feet, and 
 advanced a step or two to meet him. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 "what's in a name?" 
 
 " My aunt Olivia, I presume," said Otto, hurrying 
 forward, and taking the old lady's hand, which he 
 raised to his lips. "I am very glad to make your 
 acquaintance ; I have heard so much about you from 
 my father." 
 
 " Then you are Otto, are you not ? " she replied, in a 
 slightly flurried manner ; "it is very good of you to 
 come such a distance to see us." 
 
 (" What the dickens does she mean by usT' thought 
 Otto ; " does she speak in the plural, like royalty ? '') 
 He answered aloud, " Not at all, aunt Olivia ; it 
 is great kindness on your part having given your 
 nephews such a w^arm invitation." 
 
 By this time Otto was seated, and had leisure to 
 observe the old lady ; for old she was, decidedly old 
 — far more so than he had ever been led to expect. 
 "Why, she looks nearer sixty than fifty," reflected 
 Otto. 
 
 She was above middle height, and sparely built ; a 
 very decided stoop in walking took off something from 
 her stature. Her hair was quite grey, but almost 
 entirely covered by a muslin cap decorated with large 
 frills and tied under her chin. The colour of her 
 complexion inclined to yellow ; a slightly receding 
 forehead, and large, mild grey eyes, gave her a very 
 benevolent though somewhat weak-minded expression. 
 Of the eyebrows, which his father had described in 
 glowing terms, there was not much trace left ; but 
 perhaps, to make up for this, there was an unmistak- 
 able dark shade over her upper lip, which contrasted
 
 AUNT OLIVIA. 51 
 
 most comically with the lackadaisical look pervading 
 the rest of her person. Her dress consisted of a black 
 gown, of some thin, shabby material, which, on very 
 close inspection, showed her bony shoulders and arms 
 through. To remedy this, perhaps, she wore an enor- 
 mous black-and-white cashmere shawl, draped loosely 
 round her spare person, and supposed to be kept 
 together by a large silver brooch of oriental workman- 
 ship, made in the shape of a crescent. The brooch, 
 however, did not seem equal to fulfilling its purpose ; 
 apparently it was of a weak, undecided nature, for it 
 never kept closed for more than a minute at a time. 
 Already, on advancing to meet Otto, the faithless 
 crescent had given way ; and aunt Olivia, who was 
 flurried, got still further embarrassed by this trifling 
 accident. 
 
 " Oh, of course," she said, in answer to Otto. " I am 
 
 always delighted to see any one who is related to " 
 
 here she paused in visible embarrassment. 
 
 Otto noticed a rustle in the portiere curtains which 
 veiled the entrance of the next room, and almost 
 thought that he heard a slight cough behind them. 
 
 "No, I did not mean that," she corrected; "but, of 
 course, I have heard so much about you from — from — 
 
 everybody, and it is only natural for me to " here 
 
 the old lady looked helplessly round, and Otto thought 
 to himself, " What a rum old girl she is ! She almost 
 seems to be begging my pardon for taking an interest 
 in me ; and how agitated she gets at any allusion to 
 my father ! " 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOI.S LIBRARY
 
 52 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Suddenly his attention was again attracted by a 
 movement of the curtain. He felt certain that some- 
 body was watching him from behind it ; he could even 
 see the grasp of a hand among the folds. The idea of 
 being watched is never a pleasant one, and Otto began 
 to feel strangely nneasy. It was a relief when the 
 maid - servant came in and announced supper ; and 
 rising with alacrity, he offered his arm to aunt Olivia, 
 and as he did so he fancied that he heard light foot- 
 steps receding from the curtains. 
 
 " I daresay you are quite ready for your food, after 
 your long drive. Are you not famished ? And I have 
 not yet introduced you to the other lady who — lives 
 with me." 
 
 Just as they approached the curtain which divided 
 the two rooms, the unlucky shawl came down again, 
 and the old lady stumbled over it and got flurried. 
 
 "I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance," 
 said Otto aloud, while carefully picking up the shawl. 
 What he said to himself was, " Hang it ! I had 
 quite forgotten that there was a second old hag in 
 the house." 
 
 He pushed the curtain aside, and they entered the 
 adjoining room, where supper was laid. A large urn 
 steamed away on a side-table, and bending over it, with 
 her back towards them as they entered, was the slight 
 figure of a lady, also in black. This could not be the 
 companion, surely, for she looked quite young. Even 
 before she had turned. Otto was struck with a certain 
 grace in the attitude of the bending figure.
 
 AUNT OLIVIA. 53 
 
 She did not look round as they entered ; rather she 
 seemed to bend a shade lower over her urn. 
 
 " Eeata, my dear, allow me to introduce to you Baron 
 Otto Bodenbach, my — nephew ; this is Fraulein Eeata 
 my — companion." She certainly seemed to find a 
 difficulty in finishing her phrases. 
 
 The young girl turned quickly round and gave Otto 
 a hasty little bow and a furtive glance, and then re- 
 turned to her occupation of making tea, without a word. 
 
 That one moment was to Otto a revelation ; a sudden 
 vision of beauty had been before him. He had met 
 the gaze of a pair of magnificent eyes — dark, deep 
 eyes, that were yet not black. He was positively 
 startled out of his presence of mind, so different was 
 she from what he had expected, so far more lovely ^han 
 any woman he had ever known. His usual readiness 
 of speech deserted him for a moment, and feeling that 
 if he spoke he would probably betray his astonishment, 
 he wisely remained silent and took his place at the 
 table. There was a substantial supper laid out there, 
 and Otto felt inclined to do justice to it. 
 
 Fraulein Eeata left the urn suddenly and took her 
 place. 
 
 '' Eeata, my dear, will you give us some tea ? Baron 
 Bodenbach — Otto, I mean — will be quite ready for it 
 after his long drive." 
 
 Eeata poured out the tea silently, and handed a cup 
 each to aunt Olivia and to Otto. 
 
 He had a good view of her now, sitting directly 
 under the lamp. The bright colour in her cheeks,
 
 54 "what's in a name?" 
 
 wliicli his first glance had shown him, had faded — 
 indeed her face was almost pale when in repose; a 
 delicate, creamy skin, which varied every moment in 
 complexion — showing a hundred changes and tints, 
 crimsoning and whitening with every movement, al- 
 most with every breath she drew. Eyebrows and 
 eyelashes were quite black ; the hair only a shade 
 lighter — the very darkest brown — and hung in two 
 thick plaits till far past her waist. ISTose and mouth 
 were exquisitely shaped ; the latter, perhaps, too firmly 
 set — without, however, any of that squareness of jaw 
 which is so ugly in a woman. Whatever there was 
 of determination about the lower part of the face, was 
 contradicted by the wonderful softness of the eyes — 
 those wondrous eyes, which in their dark shades and 
 golden lights, and their milky, blue- white tint, re- 
 minded one of the rich, melting colour of an onyx ; 
 but even these eyes, one fancied, could look fierce, if 
 roused. 
 
 If a sculptor could have found one or two small im- 
 perfections in her features, there were certainly none 
 to be found in her figure ; a little above middle 
 height, perfectly proportioned in every way — it de- 
 lighted the eye to rest upon such faultless lines. 
 
 During the greatest part of their meal the young 
 lady maintained an unbroken silence : only now and 
 then, Otto caught her dark eyes fixed on his face with 
 a scrutinising gaze ; and each time she turned away 
 her head and looked confused. 
 
 "It was those eyes that watched me through the
 
 AUNT OLIVIA. 55 
 
 curtain," reflected Otto; "no wonder I felt uncom- 
 fortable under their gaze. I wish she would speak ! " 
 
 " It is such a relief to my mind that you have 
 arrived safe," the old lady said. " I have been all 
 day in a state of alarm, for fear that something should 
 happen to you." 
 
 " Why, what could happen to me, beyond the vehicle 
 upsetting ? " asked Otto. " I must confess that I did 
 expect that once or twice." 
 
 " Oh, I daresay ; but nobody thinks anything of 
 that here : it would need to be a much graver occur- 
 rence to deserve the name of accident." 
 
 " What sort of horrors have I escaped, then ? I 
 Ihould like to know, in order to estimate exactly 
 how much gratitude I owe Providence." 
 
 " Being cut up into small pieces, salted, and put into 
 a barrel, and perhaps eaten as pickled pork," put in 
 Fraulein Eeata, speaking very quick. This was her 
 first attempt at conversation. 
 
 " It sounds rather formidable, certainly," answered 
 Otto, bewildered by this unexpected address. " Why, 
 what would have been the inducement ? " 
 
 "Do you think I am inventing stories to frighten 
 you ? " returned Eeata, colouring and speaking, eagerly, 
 almost rather angrily. " I tell you it is quite true." 
 
 " I am ready to believe anything, I am sure," said 
 Otto, beginning to feel amused ; " but you will find it 
 rather difficult to convince me that I have been cut up 
 and salted ; at least, if such is the case, the results are 
 rather pleasant than otherwise."
 
 56 "what's in a name?" 
 
 " I didn't say you had been, but that you might 
 have been, and I daresay you still will be." 
 
 ("What an odd girl!" Otto thought to himself; 
 " and how fierce her eyes can look ! ") " But will you 
 please enlighten me," he continued, "as to who and 
 where my would-be murderers are ? " 
 
 " Have you never heard of the robbers who infest 
 this part of the country ? Last year they disposed of 
 a rich merchant in that way." 
 
 " Oh dear, yes ! " put in aunt Olivia ; *' I remember 
 how frightened we all were ! I am sure I couldn't 
 sleep a wink until we heard that the head of the band 
 was taken." 
 
 " But they let him out again very soon," completed 
 Reata; "so that he is still at liberty to pursue his 
 system of pickling." 
 
 " Let him out again ? " asked Otto, in surprise ; 
 " you don't mean to say that they were fools enough 
 to let such a bloodthirsty wretch slip through their 
 fingers ? " 
 
 "There were extenuating circumstances found," re- 
 plied Reata, gravely. 
 
 "What, in heaven's name, could extenuate such a 
 crime ? " Otto cried, excitedly ; " cutting a fellow- 
 being up into pieces ! Was the man insane, or did 
 he do it in his sleep, or did he not do it at all ? 
 or what?" 
 
 "No, those were not the reasons," Reata returned, 
 still demurely ; " but, you see — the pieces were very 
 small."
 
 AUNT OLIVIA. 57 
 
 Otto looked at her in astonishment : her tone had 
 been quite serious ; but a slight twitching in the 
 corners of her mouth betrayed her. 
 
 "Oh, Eeata, my dear, how can you talk such non- 
 sense ! " exclaimed the old lady. " The fact is," she 
 said, turning to Otto, " that it would not have been 
 safe to hang him ; the whole band would have been 
 drawn upon those who executed this act. In this 
 way, at least, they saved their own lives. Justice 
 is very far back in this country." 
 
 " But you must live in continual fear of your lives. 
 Does any one ever reach the natural term of existence 
 in these parts ? " 
 
 "Oh, but we are insured," promptly replied Eeata. 
 Then, seeing Otto's surprised look, she went ou to 
 explain that it was customary to pay a certain yearly 
 tribute to the brigands, who only exact this from well- 
 to-do people ; and that therefore nobody need be mur- 
 dered unless they liked, and the poor were quite safe 
 from the robbers. 
 
 "Your precious life was not in any real danger," she 
 concluded; "for, of course, they would have recog- 
 nised the servant and horses. I did not feel in the 
 least alarmed about you ; it was only that absurd, dear 
 
 old Gi I mean your aunt, who worked herself up 
 
 into a state of misery." 
 
 " Of course I know I have no claim on your interest," 
 was the answer, in a tone of slight pique. Somehow 
 it mortified him to think that those onyx-coloured 
 eyes had not looked out anxiously for his safe arrival.
 
 58 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 "I am quite contented if my aunt Olivia" (here a 
 slight bow towards the old lady) " is good enough to 
 care about my welfare." 
 
 He had spoken gravely and rather pompously, but 
 the effect of his words on Eeata was very different 
 from what he expected. She tried to make an answer, 
 but apparently failed ; and partially hiding her face in 
 her handkerchief, she rose abruptly from her place, 
 seized the teapot, and turned towards the side-table, 
 where she bent over the urn. Otto would have sworn 
 that she was laughing, from the movement of her 
 shoulders, and from a slight choking sound which she 
 could not entirely suppress. 
 
 What a strange girl she was ! and what had there 
 been to provoke her merriment? Otto felt almost 
 some resentment against her; he could not explain 
 why. 
 
 After a minute she turned round and said, "Will 
 you have another cup of tea, Baron Bodenbach ? " 
 
 She was now looking quite grave ; her eyes bent 
 down demurely, no signs of merriment remaining. 
 
 A few minutes later Eeata rose suddenly and said, 
 " Now, we are all going to bed." 
 
 Having the matter decided for them in this per- 
 emptory fashion, Otto and aunt Olivia followed Eeata 
 submissively. 
 
 The room which Otto was shown into as his bed- 
 room was small, and very simply furnished ; it looked 
 cool and comfortable. His bed was unlike any he had 
 ever before seen, consisting of broad, flat leather straps.
 
 AUNT OLIVIA. 59 
 
 tightly stretched on a wooden framework, and covered 
 with a thin linen sheet. This is the sort of mattress 
 most in use in Mexico, the climate rendering an 
 ordinary mattress unbearable. 
 
 " Good night/' said the old lady, extending her hand 
 to Otto. 
 
 " Good night, my dear aunt," he replied, kissing her 
 hand. 
 
 Eeata also had partially extended hers towards him, 
 but suddenly drew it back ; and as if to make amends 
 for her empressement, she quickly put both her hands 
 behind her back, and said hurriedly and demurely, 
 " Good night, Baron Bodenbach," 
 
 Otto opened the door for the ladies to pass, and for 
 the fourth time that evening picked up his aunt's 
 cashmere shawl, which, during the last two minutes, 
 had been gradually slipping down. 
 
 When left alone for the night, he could not prevent 
 his thoughts from running continually on the beautiful 
 Eeata. It was not merely that her beauty had made a 
 deep impression on him, as it certainly had ; but there 
 was something strange and not altogether pleasant in 
 the manner in which she domineered over her mistress. 
 Aunt Olivia seemed entirely in the girl's power, and, 
 oddly enough, she did not seem to mind it. 
 
 " She must be trying to wheedle the old lady out of 
 her money, and that is what made her manner so short 
 to me. However, she shows her game so plainly that 
 I am on my guard, and shall take care of my own 
 interests. She certainly is a marvellously beautiful
 
 60 "what's in a name?" 
 
 creature ; and if she had to do with an old gentleman, 
 instead of an old lady, my chances would be much 
 worse than they are. What an odd name 'Eeata' is! 
 I have never seen such splendid eyes — think I prefer 
 blue ones." Here Otto fell asleep. 
 
 This had been an exciting day for him, and his 
 slumbers were profound that night. 
 
 Keata, in spite of the announcement of her resolu- 
 tion of going at once to bed, sat up for some time 
 longer in the old lady's room, both talking earnestly 
 with lowered voices. 
 
 " It has always been that way with you since you 
 were a baby," sighed the old lady, when Eeata at last 
 rose to go. 
 
 " And it will probably always be like that with me 
 till the end of time," laughed Eeata, as she kissed the 
 old lady and was off to her own rooin.
 
 61 
 
 C H A P T E E VL 
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. 
 
 Round her eyes her tresses fell, 
 Wliich were blackest none could tell ; 
 But long lashes veiled the light, 
 That had else been all too bright. 
 And her hat with shady brim, 
 Made her tressy forehead dim." 
 
 —Thomas Hood. 
 
 " Come along, my own precious Camel ! Why are you 
 behaving in such a ridiculous manner, my priceless 
 Porcupine ? Oh, I see, you have got a cactus-leaf stick- 
 ing to your tail ! Had it hurt its little stump of a tail ? 
 Give a paw, white Puppy, and I will take it off; and 
 the bright Puppy must give a paw too. Now it is all 
 right again, my old Camel, is it not ? And we will 
 have a nice walk together. Come along, Picha, Ficha, 
 Picha!" 
 
 This dialogue, or rather monologue, was the first 
 thing that greeted Otto's ears on awaking next morn- 
 ing. His bed was near the window, which to all in- 
 tents and purposes was open, having only a close wire 
 network stretched across it. Eaising himself on his 
 elbow, he pulled aside a piece of the chintz blind and
 
 62 "what's in a name?" 
 
 peeped out. It was broad daylight, although still very- 
 early. He uttered an exclamation of admiring surprise 
 at the maernificent view unrolled befor6 him. The 
 house stood on some slightly rising ground within the 
 forest, the trees in front severed by a deep, cool glade, 
 through which a glimpse of a splendidly smooth plain 
 caught the eye — a strong contrast between the dark 
 shadows of the trees and the unbroken sunshine on the 
 level ground beyond. At one side, and at the back of 
 the house, the forest was dense, and stretched away for 
 several miles. 
 
 After casting a hasty glance of admiration over the 
 scenery, Otto looked round to find out whose voice 
 he had heard talking in that strange manner, and 
 what animals might be his or her companions. He 
 was only just in time to see Eeata run out of the 
 veranda and disappear under the trees. Of all the 
 animals she had enumerated, there was only visible 
 a rather long-haired insignificant white terrier, which 
 followed closely at her heels. She looked surpass- 
 ingly lovely (at least Otto thought so) in her white 
 dress, plain black sash, and broad leaf-hat. He fol- 
 lowed her with his eyes as long as he could perceive 
 a glimmer of white amongst the trees, admiring her 
 light, springing step, and the perfection of grace in 
 every movement. 
 
 Before this he had been anxious to examine the 
 house and its surroundings, which looked so invitingly 
 picturesque from here ; and the vision which he had 
 seen was an additional inducement to make haste with
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. C3 
 
 his toilet. He strolled out of the house to view the 
 surroundings. The building was long and low, with a 
 shady veranda, overhung by creepers, running round 
 the four sides. All the windows opened on to it like 
 doors, and thus a perpetual state of ventilation was 
 entertained within the rooms. At a little distance 
 from the back of the house were grouped several small 
 outbuildings, apparently inhabited by farm-servants. 
 Further to the left there was a clearing in the trees ; 
 and here, in an enclosed space, ten or eleven horses 
 were grazing or lying in the shade. This sight re- 
 joiced Otto's heart. He looked nearer, and was rejoiced 
 further ; for at the far end of the paddock he caught 
 sight of a roan, which even at this distance promised 
 well — conspicuously superior to its companions ia the 
 paddock. 
 
 As he walked back to the house. Otto glanced about 
 him and peered into the gloom of the trees, to see if he 
 could not discover any signs of the white dress which 
 he had seen disappear into the forest — but in vain ; he 
 saw no white flutter, and entered the house in quest 
 of breakfast — for the morning air had given him a 
 prodigious appetite — and in pleasing anticipation of 
 having his coffee poured out for him by the same fair 
 hand which had given him his tea last night. How- 
 ever, he had to content himself with aunt Olivia's 
 services. Eeata had not returned from her morning's 
 wanderings. 
 
 "Yes, it is a lovely spot," the old lady said, in 
 answer to his loudly - expressed admiration of the
 
 64 "what's in a name?" 
 
 scenery. " We will take you out for a walk to-night ; 
 it is too hot in the day-hours. Eeata has explored 
 most of the forest ; she will be our guide. Where can 
 she be straying again?" she continued, anxiously. 
 ''That foolish girl always will stay out so long, and 
 comes back heated and tired." 
 
 "Shall I go and look for her?" asked Otto, rising 
 with wonderful alacrity. 
 
 "But I don't know where she is; she has got all 
 sorts of mysterious haunts in the forest, which even I 
 am not acquainted with. I assure you it would be no 
 good whatever," she continued, seeing in Otto's face 
 that he had not yet relinquished his intention : " you 
 have got no idea how confusing the forests here are ; 
 you would certainly be lost. Eeata has a wonderful 
 gift of never losing her way in the most tangled wood, 
 but you are a stranger; and we don't even know in 
 what direction she went off." 
 
 " Oh, but I know exactly ; I watched — at least, I saw 
 her going off." 
 
 But search was unnecessary, for at that moment a 
 white form ran past the window, and Eeata called in 
 as she passed, " Wait for me ; Ficha and I are quite 
 ready for our breakfast." 
 
 Otto's face perhaps betrayed some of the astonish- 
 ment he felt at the companion's sans gene manner, for 
 the old lady said hastily, " You must not be surprised 
 at the dear child's way of talking. She is so full of 
 life, and we have lived so long together, that I have 
 come to consider her quite as a daughter."
 
 DEAD EOSE-LEAVES. 65 
 
 " Yes," mused Otto, inwardly, with a passing feeling 
 of curiosity, "she could not talk with more affection 
 if she were the giiTs mother herself." 
 
 " She has been long with you, then ? " he asked, sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Oh yes ; ever since — that is to say, for several 
 years," replied the old lady, getting flurried and in- 
 coherent. 
 
 " Is Fraulein Eeata a Mexican ? " 
 
 " A Mexican ? Oh no — at least, yes ; there is a 
 mixture of blood in her. Her mother was a Mex- 
 ican, the daughter of a dispossessed chief." The old 
 lady was speaking in broken phrases, and had half 
 turned her head away. 
 
 ** And who was her father ? A German, I suppose, 
 from her speaking that language so perfectly." 
 
 "Yes — at least, no. I am not sure. Eeata had 
 German instructors, but Spanish is her real mother 
 tongue. Ah, there she comes ! " in a tone of unmis- 
 takable relief. 
 
 "You have no idea how delightful it was in the 
 forest!" said Eeata, having embraced the old lady 
 effusively and bestowed a rather stiff little bow upon 
 Otto ; " the cactuses are all out." 
 
 " I hope you will allow me to accompany you to- 
 night," said Otto ; " my aunt has promised that I shall 
 have a walk in the forest, and I am looking forward to 
 it very much." 
 
 " Oh yes, it will be capital fun ; do come," she 
 answered, delightedly. " I will show you all sorts of 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 "what's in a name?" 
 
 interesting things ; there is a beautiful snake's nest in 
 the long grass, and I saw two or three of those large 
 ahispas, which I have been looking for so long." 
 
 " What sort of animals are those ?" 
 
 " They are a large, what you Europeans would call 
 an enormous insect, about the size of a small humming- 
 bird ; their bodies are bright red and covered with long 
 hairs ; and if they sting you, you swell up to twice 
 your natural size. One of them nearly settled on the 
 White Puppy's head, but luckily I despatched it with 
 my fan. It would have been dreadful certainly if poor 
 Ficha had come home swollen to the size of a New- 
 foundland dog." 
 
 " But are you not afraid of being stung yourself?" 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! " and she looked at him in astonish- 
 ment ; "what good would it do to be afraid ?" 
 
 " I suppose you are insured against reptiles and 
 insects, as well as against the brigands," said Otto, 
 laughing. 
 
 " But, Eeata, my dear, I always told you it was not 
 safe to walk about so much alone," put in the old lady, 
 plaintively. " I have told her so often that it is danger- 
 ous," she continued, appealing to Otto. 
 
 " Nonsense, you dear old thing ! " interrupted Eeata ; 
 " you know we have fought out that point before : it 
 is no use beginning over again. Those animals won't 
 do me much harm ; beasts are always fond of me." 
 
 " Have you not got a collection of animals some- 
 where about the house?" inquired Otto. " This morn- 
 ing at an early hour I heard you apostrophising various
 
 DEAD KOSE-LEAVES. 67 
 
 species of quadrupeds ; but when I looked out, I could 
 see nothing but a small terrier." 
 
 " Of course," answered Eeata, after a passing look 
 of surprise, " I have got a whole menagerie ; you shall 
 have the honour of an introduction when I go to feed 
 them." 
 
 " Come and see my wild animals," she said^ as they 
 rose from the breakfast-table. 
 
 She led the way to the veranda and called out, 
 " Ficha, Ficha, Ficha ! White Puppy, Bright Puppy ! " 
 
 The insignificant terrier appeared at full gallop from 
 some back, probably culinary, regions. 
 
 " Here, Baron Bodenbach," said Eeata, seizing Ficha 
 by the front paws, and making the animal stand on 
 its hind -legs, much as one teaches a child to wnlk. 
 " Here is the precious Camel, alias White Puppy, alias 
 Bright Puppy, alias Porcupine, alias Blossom, alias 
 Grif&n." At each title Ficha was made to bow low. 
 " Now, what do you think of them ? Are they not fine 
 animals?" 
 
 " Well, this is rather a come-down," answered Otto, 
 a little ruefully, " after expecting to see dromedaries, 
 and camels, and elephants, and giraffes." 
 
 " Tliere is a giraffe on the premises," she interrup- 
 ted him, " but I don't think it would do to introduce 
 you yet." 
 
 " I shall be less sanguine about the introduction this 
 time. Judging from the experience I have just had, I 
 suppose the animal will be anything except a giraffe, 
 probably something microscopically small."
 
 68 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Eeata laughed — a long, rippling laugh. She did not 
 laugh often with her voice, oftener with her eyes. In 
 spite of her high spirits, she was not given to those 
 frequent peals of merriment which young ladies, both 
 in and out of novels, are so fond of indulging in. 
 
 When she had recovered her gravity she said, " The 
 giraffe is a full-grown specimen ; but really I am quite 
 grieved at your failing to appreciate the valuable quali- 
 ties of my beloved Ficha." 
 
 " But what on earth induced you to overburden this 
 small quadruped with so many names, to which it can 
 lay no possible claim ?" 
 
 " I assure you it has the spirit of at least half-a- 
 dozen animals combined in one. Just look at it now, 
 with its back humped in that fashion ; isn't it the 
 image of a camel ? How can you call it anything 
 else?" 
 
 . "You must allow, however, that there was some 
 excuse for my not understanding your language." 
 
 "Yes, perhaps a little; but you will understand 
 Ficha and me better when you have seen more of us." 
 
 " I hope that will be as much as possible. I am to 
 be allowed to accompany you to your forest, am I not?" 
 
 " Oh yes ; Eicha and I will take you to the forest — 
 won't we, Porcupine ?" apostrophising the now sleeping 
 dog. "And we will show you all the treasures it con- 
 tains." 
 
 " But as yet, you have offered me nothing but snakes' 
 nests and stinging insects ; has your forest got nothing 
 pleasanter to produce, Fraulein Eeata?"
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. 69 
 
 " Pleasanter ! why, there are all sorts of luxuries ; 
 humming-birds, and ferns, and mosses, and cactuses, 
 and large pools of water with flowers floating on them, 
 and creepers, and long grass. My forest is exactly like 
 an enchanted wood in a fairy tale." 
 
 " And she looks exactly like an enchanted princess 
 in a fairy tale," Otto thought, as he watched her admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 Keata had grown more excited as she proceeded 
 with her description ; her cheeks glowed, as she strove 
 to impart some of her enthusiasm to her companion. 
 It was a distinctive feature in her character that she 
 could not talk on any subject, however trifling in itself, 
 without putting her whole soul into the matter. To 
 her it was an impossibility to discuss anything with 
 languor or indifference ; if she felt no interest in the 
 topic, she would feign none, and simply be silent. 
 What Otto had last night mistaken for ferocity, was 
 only this natural vigour of thought and speech, which 
 then was new to him, but which he now began to 
 understand better. 
 
 " I am losing all my time," Eeata said, abruptly ; " I 
 have got a great deal to do, and I am sure you have. 
 Hadn't you better go to your room ? You must have 
 letters to write, or something to do ; and besides, I 
 fancy that your servant is in want of advice, for in 
 passing down the passage I saw him arranging your 
 boots neatly inside the shower-bath. I did not venture 
 to interfere, for I don't know your habits well enough ; 
 damp chaussure might be your weakness."
 
 70 '''what's in a name?" 
 
 " No, it certainly is not. Thank you for fhe informa- 
 tion ; " and Otto went off to his room to control Piotr's 
 movements. 
 
 Later in the forenoon he had some more conversation 
 with the old lady, and learnt several particulars about 
 their habits and mode of life here. The information 
 gained resulted in the following particulars : This 
 country place, or hacienda, though it had long been 
 the property of Maximilian Bodenbach, had been little 
 inhabited by him. Maximilian had led a secluded 
 life in his last years, and kept his establishment on the 
 smallest footing, disliking many servants about the 
 house. Since his death the establishment had not been 
 reorganised ; the servants brought to this hacienda 
 consisted only of one indoor maid - servant, and the 
 three or four stable-servants requisite for the attendance 
 of the carriage-horses, which in that part of the country 
 were a positive necessity. 
 
 It did not surprise Otto that his aunt should in her 
 conversation be continually recurring to Eeata — dwell- 
 ing on the subject with great fondness and affection, 
 and seemingly anxious to know whether the girl's 
 abrupt manner at times had not impressed Otto un- 
 favourably. He was more than ever confirmed in the 
 belief that his aunt intended to provide generously for 
 her companion ; but, strange to say, the feeling of re- 
 sentment against Eeata, which this idea had inspired 
 him with last night, had completely vanished : there 
 could be no better way of employing money, he thought, 
 than by bestowing it on such a perfect being.
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. 71 
 
 Then they went on to talk of his relations ; the old 
 lady inquired very kindly after Arnold and Gabrielle, 
 and showed interest in Otto's account. At the men- 
 tion of Baron Bodenbach, however, or at any allusion 
 to former times, she became at once flurried in the same 
 unaccountable manner Otto had noticed last night; 
 and when at last he rose, saying that he would fetch 
 his father's letter and the little packet he had been 
 intrusted with, her distress became apparently insur- 
 mountable, and she entreated him to put it off till later. 
 
 " My eyes are so weak," she said, " I could not read 
 it by myself ; indeed I think it would be better if you 
 give it me after dinner, when Eeata is with me — she 
 always reads my letters aloud." 
 
 "Very well, my dear aunt; just as you like,"- and 
 Otto reseated himself, but had to rise again at once, as 
 dinner was announced to be ready by Reata putting 
 her head in at the door and saying, " La comida es en 
 la mesa." 
 
 "Here is the letter, aunt Olivia," he said, after 
 dinner, returning from his room. " I was also to give 
 you this small packet from my father. I daresay you 
 know what it contains." 
 
 "Of course she does; she has been thinking of 
 nothing else," answered Eeata, promptly. " Please give 
 me the letter and the packet, Baron Bodenbach ; I 
 will read it first, and dole out as much as I consider to 
 be good for the dear old thing's constitution. Oh no, 
 don't go away," as Otto made a movement towards 
 effacing himself, thinking that his presence might be
 
 72 "what's in a name?" 
 
 undesirable. " I assure you she does not mind it in 
 the least. Sit down there and listen." 
 
 As the old lady made no objections to this rather 
 odd arrangement, beyond a resigned sigh, Eeata sat 
 down with the packet of rose-leaves on her lap, and 
 began reading the letter. 
 
 " My w^ell-beloved Cousin Olivia ! " Eeata glanced 
 significantly at the old lady, w^ho gave a sort of gasp 
 and blushed painfully. ''You will get these lines from 
 the hand of my son, who, more fortunate than myself, 
 will soon have the happiness of beholding again your 
 dear face, and imprinting a filial kiss on your small, 
 white hand." Here the old lady made a desperate 
 effort to hide both her hands under her shawl. Eeata 
 frowned and went on : — 
 
 " I think you cannot fail to recognise in Otto*s face 
 the same blue eyes which thirty-two years ago gazed 
 at you with such adoring admiration. He is con- 
 sidered to be very like me, especially in profile." 
 
 "Baron Bodenbach," Eeata said, laying down the 
 letter for a minute, " please put yourself in profile, and 
 put on an expression of adoring admiration." 
 
 " Whom am I to adore ? " he asked, looking straight 
 at Eeata. 
 
 ''Your aunt, of course. No, that will not do at all," 
 as Otto distorted his features into what he considered 
 to be the right expression, but which in reality was 
 nothing but a hideous grimace. "I don't think you 
 remind your aunt at all of what your father was like ; 
 now, does he ? "
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES, 73 
 
 " Now, Eeata, my dear, how can you torment me so ! 
 you know how bad my memory is." 
 
 Bat Eeata only shook her head and proceeded : — 
 
 " I have intrusted him with a precious packet, which 
 he is to give into your hands; it is the dried rose- 
 leaves which you gave me on the 25th of June 1837. 
 Of course you remember that day, although you would 
 not allude to it in a former letter. Do you remember 
 the moonlight, and the waterfall, and the nightingale ? 
 You threw one rose into the rushing waters and gave 
 me the other to keep." 
 
 " How dreadfully frivolous ! " said Eeata, gravely 
 shaking her head. "I had no notion that you had 
 gone through such romantic episodes. She does not 
 look like it; does she. Baron Bodenbach?" Then, 
 as the old lady endeavoured to speak, " No, no, don't 
 excuse yourself ; I know exactly what you were going 
 to say, and I make every allowance for your youth and 
 foolishness. There is more about the roses coming." 
 
 " Our lives have been parted like those two flowers — 
 one swallowed up in the foaming torrent of life, the 
 other shrivelled and dried." 
 
 " Let me see," said Eeata, looking critically at the 
 old lady; '-'are you the shrivelled and dried one, or 
 have you been swallowed up in a foaming torrent? I 
 can't quite make out. There now," tossing the letter 
 across — " there i^ lots more in the same style ; you had 
 better finish it, while I examine these precious petals. 
 Of course you will recognise them at once. Tell me, 
 first, what colour are they ? Was the rose of a deep
 
 74 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 blushing red, or white as the driven snow? You 
 surely can't have forgotten." 
 
 " But, Reata, my dear," began aunt Olivia, in painful 
 embarrassment, " my memory is so bad, how can I ? " 
 
 " Yes, you can, you must," answered her questioner. 
 " Now let us hear, was it white or red ? " 
 
 " Eed, I think, my dear," she answered, convulsively, 
 holding her handkerchief before her face. 
 
 " Wrong ! " was the triumphant rejoinder, as open- 
 ing the packet she disclosed the remains of a yellow 
 rose. " How strange," she continued, examining them 
 more closely, " that they should have kept their colour 
 for thirty-five years ! they look as if they had been 
 gathered a month ago. Is it not extraordinary, Baron 
 Bodenbach ? " glancing up at Otto. 
 
 " Very odd, certainly," he returned, hurriedly. "How 
 confoundedly sharp that girl is ! " he muttered to him- 
 self ; " and how odd her manner in this whole business 
 is ! and yet my aunt does not resent it." 
 
 "Your father must have preserved them very care- 
 fully," went on Reata. " I am afraid he is very poetical. 
 I hope you do not take after him mentally as well as 
 outwardly. Are you really so very like him ? " 
 
 "I must appeal to my aunt for that particular," 
 said Otto, looking towards the old lady, who im- 
 mediately turned to the window and appeared absorbed 
 in the deciphering of the letter. 
 
 " There is a strong family likeness, I believe," went 
 on Otto, discussing his personal appearance with con- 
 fident coolness ; " but the resemblance is much more
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. 75 
 
 marked between my uncle Max and myself. I am 
 said to be very like him." 
 
 "Are you?" looking across at him with some 
 curiosity. *' I should not have thought so ; but then 
 you are taller, of course — that makes a difference/' she 
 added, inadvertently. 
 
 *' Taller!" repeated Otto, with a shade of surprise 
 in his tone and look. "I always believed that my 
 uncle Max had been remarkably tall." 
 
 " I don't think he was," she said, speaking quicker ; 
 " you must be mistaken." 
 
 "But I can't be mistaken," he continued, with in- 
 creased surprise. " I remember now quite well that we 
 have got the mark of his height cut into one of the 
 door-posts at Steinbuhl; it is just Arnold's height 
 too, but I am a little under it." 
 
 Eeata was bending over the packet of dead rose-leaves, 
 stuffing them back into their paper rather roughly. 
 
 " Well, perhaps I am wrong," she said, without look- 
 ing up ; " but I did not know Mr Boden at all ; I only 
 saw him once, and he was not standing then." 
 
 " How strange ! I thought you had known him quite 
 well for several years." 
 
 " I hardly knew him," she repeated. 
 
 " Bu,t have you not been living with my aunt " 
 
 he began. 
 
 " Never mind about that," she said impatiently, with 
 heightened colour. 
 
 " But I should like to clear up the matter about my 
 uncle Max's height," he persisted, half in amusement,
 
 76 "what's in a name?" 
 
 half in curiosity. "Perhaps my aunt will be kind 
 enough to pronounce her verdict as to the difference 
 of height between me and my uncle," — and as he spoke 
 Otto rose, and turning towards aunt Olivia, stood wait- 
 ing for her decision. 
 
 To his surprise he perceived that the embarrassment 
 on Eeata's face was reflected on his aunt's countenance 
 with double force. Was she, too, as ignorant as Eeata 
 on the subject of Maximilian's length of limbs ? 
 
 Taking refuge in the depth of her pocket-handker- 
 chief, she muttered something about " old age " and 
 " effect of climate," and turned away abruptly. 
 
 "Don't ask her those sort of questions," Eeata said 
 in a hurried whisper to Otto, bending nearer towards 
 him, but not looking at him; ''your aunt did not — 
 did not live latterly with her — with her father — with 
 Mr Boden." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I was not aware," said Otto, 
 feeling that he had stumbled upon an agitating 
 subject. 
 
 "Now come to our hour of peace," said Eeata, 
 turning off the matter. "Have you ever been in a 
 hammock ? " 
 
 " Yes ; at least I have fallen out of one. I bought 
 a twine hammock last year at Vienna. You were sup- 
 posed to fasten it to a table and chair. I did so, and 
 brought down both the table and chair, and nearly 
 broke my backbone." 
 
 " There is no danger of that here," said Eeata, lead- 
 ing the way to the part of the veranda which lay on
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. 77 
 
 the shady side of the house, facing the forest. " Look 
 how strong they are ! They are made by the natives 
 here, who fabricate them out of twisted grasses." 
 
 While she was talking, Eeata had established her- 
 self in her swinging couch — Otto admiring the graceful 
 ease with which she went through this rather difficult 
 evolution. It was now his turn, and after some awk- 
 ward attempts, he found himself safely landed in his 
 net." 
 
 The air was luxurious and soft, and he closed his 
 eyes to enjoy it more thoroughly. In a minute he was 
 roused by Eeata speaking. 
 
 " Baron Bodenbach, your aunt is dying to hear all 
 about your family." 
 
 "But, Eeata, my pet, he has been talking to me 
 about them all," said the sleepy voice of aunt Olivia. 
 
 " But there must be more to tell ; tell us all about 
 your sister. I am so fond of sisters ; I wish I had 
 one ! Is she dark or fair ? " 
 
 "Fair." 
 
 ''How old?" 
 
 " Sixteen." 
 
 " That is ever so much younger than I am. By the 
 by. Baron Bodenbach, how old are you ? We were 
 disputing this morning about your age." 
 
 Not since Otto had attained to man's years had this 
 question been put to him with such point-blank direct- 
 ness. He was startled, but more amused, and answered 
 the truth — namely, that he was twenty-six. 
 
 He would have liked to put the same question to
 
 78 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Eeata. He had been puzzled what age to assign to 
 her ; for although developed into perfect womanhood, 
 there was at times a strong dash of childish carelessness 
 about her talk and manner. While Otto was debating 
 the question in his mind, Eeata voluntarily supplied 
 the desired information. 
 
 "Then you are just five years older than I am; I 
 was twenty-one last June." 
 
 Eeata was so perfectly unconventional in her ideas, 
 that the thought of making a mystery of her age would 
 never have occurred to her. She had no experience of 
 society, and had read no novels. How could she know 
 that a young lady's age is the one point on which she is 
 allowed — nay, expected — to be silent and deceitful ? 
 
 " Baron Bodenbach, I think you are falling asleep," 
 remarked Eeata, after a pause, filled only by the hum- 
 ming sounds of insects, which the air wafted across 
 from the forest. 
 
 " Oh no, not at all ; how could I ? " he exclaimed, 
 with the instinctive indignation which such an impu- 
 tation never fails to rouse in us. 
 
 "It is nothing to be ashamed of; we always take a 
 siesta after dinner." 
 
 " Eeally ! how kind of you ! " he said, relapsing into 
 drowsiness. Not even for the pleasure of conversing 
 with Eeata could he keep himself awake any longer. 
 From under his half-closed eyelids he could see very 
 little of her now : she had drawn up the sides of her 
 hammock so as to hide her person entirely ; and all 
 now left visible was one hand, which held the edges of
 
 DEAD ROSE-LEAVES. 79 
 
 the net together. Although half plunged in slumber, 
 Otto noticed how beautifully shaped that hand was, 
 not quite as white and small as those of his sister 
 Gabrielle, but with so much character and ableness in 
 its lines. 
 
 " I see you are on the verge of going off, and I will 
 leave you in peace directly ; but you must first answer 
 some more questions about your sister. Does she 
 draw ? Is she fond of riding ? and how tall is she ? " 
 
 The voice coming from the closed hammock sounded 
 like that of some tormenting spirit. 
 
 Otto made one more effort, and answered in an in- 
 distinct voice, " Immensely ! " 
 
 " Immensely tall, or immensely fond of riding ? " 
 Eeata persisted, — but "answer there came none," for 
 Otto had sunk into a delicious state of oblivion.
 
 80 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 LOVE AT FIKST SIGHT? 
 
 From that very hour he loved." 
 
 —Rogers's Italy. 
 
 There are few sensations as strange and delightful, and 
 few feelings of surprise as pleasurable, as what we ex- 
 perience in finding ourselves for the first time in life 
 within the precincts of a tropical forest. 
 
 Eeata had by no means exaggerated when she said 
 that this forest looked like an enchanted wood in a 
 fairy tale. At every step fresh beauties discovered 
 themselves. Gigantic, broad -leaved trees bent their 
 heavy lower branches down to the ground, and these 
 had taken root again, and formed verdant bowers. 
 Where many of these stood close together, the bowers 
 joined into natural arcades ; and under their green 
 shade a man could walk for some minutes upright. 
 Protected by this leafy roof from the sun's devouring 
 rays, the ground was clothed in these spots with a 
 thick, tender covering of green ; a velvet carpet, more 
 perfect than our most carefully tended lawns ; elastic 
 and soft, retaining no impression, and giving back no
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? ^1 
 
 sound. In the close parts of the forest, where palm 
 and cocoa-nut trees stood crowded together, everything 
 was one mass of unbroken green ; but what variety in 
 this sameness ! Here the emerald green of the sward, 
 and hanging over it — nay, on to it — masses of dark 
 leaves. Large cushions of moss, in all manner of 
 strange and eccentric shapes — like huge ottomans and 
 footstools, into which you sank as into deep-piled vel- 
 vet couches: furniture made by fairy hands, you would 
 guess them to be ; and yet nothing but blocks of stone 
 which nature has seized upon, and covered with large 
 mosses and little ferns more than a foot deep. So 
 compact and springy is the covering, that in plunging 
 your hand into its depths, you could barely touch with 
 your fingers the hard stone beneath. 
 
 From the crevices of larger rocks, deemed too un- 
 wieldy to serve as furniture, sprang enormous tufts 
 of ferns, standing out boldly from their nooks, and 
 tossed by the slightest breath of air, like plumes in the 
 wind. Creepers of all descriptions, some with narrow- 
 pointed leaves, others with broad, dark ones, twined 
 round every trunk, and hung in luxuriant profusion 
 from every branch. 
 
 Sounds of animal life enlivened this lovely solitude, 
 — cries of animals, songs of birds, humming buzz of 
 insects; and now and then a rustle and a gliding 
 movement in the grass would remind you of the 
 presence of reptiles. Close at hand, the weak chirp 
 of a grasshopper; further on the shrill chattering of 
 parrots ; and in the far distance, the soft cooing of a 
 
 VOL. L F
 
 82 "what's in a name?" 
 
 wood -pigeon came from the depth of the forest. A 
 palm-tree, stretched on the ground by a recent gale, 
 had become the stage on which a family of young 
 monkeys were going through a series of acrobatic 
 feats — swinging from branch to branch, and venting 
 their delight by incomprehensible and unmelodious 
 sounds. At the sight of the party they scampered 
 off to some high place of refuge. 
 
 "What do you think of my forest?" asked Eeata, 
 turning to Otto, who had hitherto proceeded silent- 
 ly, lost in admiration at the gorgeous display around 
 him. 
 
 " It surpasses my most sanguine expectations ; only 
 I have seen no flowers yet, and you promised me 
 so many." 
 
 " Ah, wait a little," she answered, mysteriously ; " you 
 are not going to be disappointed. I never make false 
 promises. You can walk a little further, can't you, 
 dear old thing ? " to the old lady, who was stepping 
 along cautiously, avoiding contact with anything that 
 might possibly conceal a snake. 
 
 " Yes, dearest, I hope so. I am beginning to think 
 that you were right about wanting me to leave my 
 shawl at home ; it is always catching in the branches 
 and getting under my feet." 
 
 Otto hastened to disembarrass his aunt from the 
 cumbrous garment, and with the help of his arm she 
 managed to make an easier progress now. 
 
 " There are some flowers to begin with," said Eeata, 
 presently, pointing to a place among the trees where a
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 83 
 
 pool of clear water lay framed in mossy stones, and 
 floating on its surface were some green water-plants 
 with white cups. " I have called it the Monkey's Mir- 
 ror, it is so exactly like a looking-glass. That big rock 
 alongside is the Headless Horseman. But come on 
 further ; it is near the Giant's Umbrella that the best 
 flowers are." 
 
 " Keata, my pet, if you are going any further, I think 
 I must sit down," and poor aunt Olivia came to a stand- 
 still. 
 
 "Of course, I was quite forgetting," and Eeata stop- 
 ped also. " Where will my Ancient where will 
 
 you sit ? " she said, casting her eyes about for a con- 
 venient resting-place. This was discovered close at 
 hand, in a broad flat stump, which, covered with 4;he 
 famous cashmere shawl, made a passable seat. When 
 the two had walked a short distance, the trees seemed 
 to be lightening, and Otto thought they must be coming 
 to the end of the wood. 
 
 " Oh no, we are in the very heart of it," Eeata said, 
 in answer to a question of his ; " but we are just coming 
 to a clearing, the Turkey's Ball-room ; we will be there 
 in a moment." 
 
 A few more steps, and they were standing at the 
 edge of a space, almost circular in shape, and unen- 
 cumbered with trees. 
 
 Otto had been so occupied with choosing his footing 
 on the narrow tangled path they had been following, 
 that he had scarcely glanced ahead for the last minute 
 or two, and was quite unprepared for the burst of
 
 84 "what's in a name?" 
 
 gorgeous colouring which met his eyes. It was one 
 mass of flowers. The ground was strewn with them — 
 calceolarias, scarlet-bells, tiger-lilies, vetches, set off by- 
 feathery or bladed grasses. Bright-coloured butterflies 
 floated and hovered in the air ; large pale-green ones, 
 with the light shining through their half- transparent 
 wings, hung in clusters on the branches. 
 
 At the further end stood a curiously-shaped old fig- 
 tree, which proved to be the aforenamed " Giant's 
 Umbrella," and around it some cactus-bushes in full 
 flower, clustered in a luxuriant tangle. 
 
 "I should like to make a study of that fig-tree," 
 said Otto, after having fully satisfied Eeata with his 
 admiration of the spot. 
 
 "Do you mean paint it?" she asked. "Can you 
 paint?" 
 
 " A little ; I am very fond of it, and this tropical 
 vegetation will be quite a new field for me." 
 
 While they made their way over the meadow through 
 the knee-deep grass, Eeata stooped at every moment 
 to gather some flower, and kept putting them into her 
 companion's hand ; so that by the time they reached 
 the fig-tree, they both of them had as much as they 
 could carry. 
 
 "JSTow for some cactuses, and then I shall have a 
 grand sorting, and throw away what is not worth keep- 
 ing. Of course I have forgotten to bring a basket, but 
 I daresay you have got a penknife ? " 
 
 She had sat down for a moment to take breath and 
 disembarrass herself of her flowery burden ; now she
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 85 
 
 sprang up and stretched to reach down a thorny branch 
 laden with cactus-blossoms. Her hat fell back with 
 the movement ; and there she stood on tiptoe in her 
 white dress, her delicate fingers grasping the prickly- 
 stalk and dragging it down till the red flowers touched 
 her hair, her upturned face flushed by the exertion, 
 her figure displayed to perfection, while, with laughing 
 eyes, she called Otto to her rescue. 
 
 "Baron Bodenbach," she said, impatiently, "don't 
 you hear ? You are to help me. What are you staring 
 at ? What is the matter with you ? '' 
 
 Ah ! what indeed was the matter with him ? His 
 presence of mind seemed to have forsaken him ; even 
 his intelligence and good-breeding. Instead of spring- 
 ing to the lady's rescue, as was to be expected, he st©od 
 — I grieve to record it — open-mouthed, devouring with 
 his eyes the loveliest picture he had seen in his life. 
 
 The sound of Eeata's voice recalled him to a sense 
 of his duty, and he came forward to disentangle her 
 dress and hair, and to secure the prize for which she 
 had striven so hard. 
 
 With what care he touched her silky plaits — hand- 
 ling them almost with reverence ! 
 
 " Thank you for your tardy help — better late than 
 never," and she sat down and began sorting her 
 flowers. ''You can help me now. Baron Bodenbach ; 
 for I shall never be able to tie up all these myself," 
 indicating to Otto, by a movement, that he was to sit 
 down too. 
 
 " Are you really going to attempt to take all this
 
 86 "what's in a name?" 
 
 home with you ? " he asked, glancing rather anxiously 
 at the many - coloured pile, from which Eeata was 
 extracting flowers and arranging them into bunches. 
 
 " Yes — at least nearly all ; it is quite simple, I assure 
 you. You will carry all the thick prickly flowers, 
 cactuses, and so on, for I have scratched my fingers 
 quite enough for one day; and I will take all the 
 smooth comfortable ones. Of course you don't mind 
 pricking your fingers ? " she added, as an after- 
 thought. 
 
 " Oh no, not at all," he replied, enthusiastically, and 
 would have liked to add something about any pain 
 coming through her being a pleasure, but wisely re- 
 frained. 
 
 " Now give me that bunch of golden-brown calceo- 
 larias ; don't they look lovely beside these pale-blue 
 vetches ? I think I shall have them for the drawing- 
 room, and the cactuses for the dining-room." 
 
 " And what are you going to do with all the others ? 
 these trumpet - flowers, for instance, and all these 
 azaleas? They surely deserve a place somewhere." 
 
 " They will all get places. I am going to arrange 
 the whole house with flowers ; that is always what I 
 do when I have such a splendid supply : every jug 
 and cup in the house will have to be pressed into the 
 service." 
 
 They sat silent for a few minutes ; she intent upon 
 her flowers, and he watching her at work, as she made 
 up bundles, which she tied with long pliable grass- 
 blades — selecting some flowers and rejecting others,
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 87 
 
 with the energy and decision which marked all her 
 actions. 
 
 "You are very fond of flowers, are you not?" re- 
 marked Otto, at last, more for the sake of hearing her 
 voice again than for any other reason, as he deemed 
 the question superfluous. 
 
 "You are very fond of people, are you not?" she 
 answered, after a second's pause, without lifting her 
 eyes, and exactly imitating the tone of his question. 
 
 " Of people ? " repeated he, slightly taken aback ; 
 " why, what has that got to do with my question ? Of 
 course I like amiable and agreeable people." 
 
 "And I like amiable and agreeable flowers," re- 
 turned Eeata, with such perfect gravity, that Otto 
 could not refrain from laughing. 
 
 " You do not understand me," she said, colouring 
 impatiently ; " can't you see that there is as much dif- 
 ference in them as in people, and that it is nonsense 
 to talk of liking or disliking them in a body, or of 
 caring about them at all times ? There are some days 
 when I wouldn't have a flower in my room for worlds, 
 they would disturb me ; just as one does not always 
 want society. Each flower has got its own character 
 and its own history, just as much as we have ; and of 
 course I only select the flowers that are sympathetic 
 to me. Just look at this little pink cactus, for in- 
 stance; did you ever see such a silly, vacant expres- 
 sion?" tearing it to pieces as she spoke; "while its 
 twin-sister here is as intelligent as possible." 
 
 " And do you analyse the expression of each flower
 
 88 "what's in a name?'' 
 
 before it is deemed worthy of joining in the decora- 
 tions? It would be rather a lengthy business, I 
 think/' 
 
 " But one sees that at a glance — one feels it instinc- 
 tively. Don't you see now that this large white daisy 
 is in excellent spirits ? it is laughing." 
 
 "How do you make that out?" Otto asked, staring 
 hard at the flower she held out towards him. " I con- 
 fess I don't see anything." 
 
 " But you must see," with a gesture of impatience. 
 " And then look at this poor purple campanilla : what 
 a melancholy expression it has ! it is evidently dying 
 of a broken heart. I am afraid it is in love with a 
 star ; and it goes on waiting hour after hour, hoping 
 that the star will come down to it : but that hour will 
 never come, and it would have died of grief if it had 
 not been gathered. I am going to take it home to try 
 and cheer it up a little." 
 
 " What wild fancies this girl has ! " Otto thought, as 
 he listened. " They would sound mad coming from 
 any one else ; but somehow they fit her quite naturally." 
 
 "And what about those pretty little pink-tinged 
 convolvuluses?" he asked; "don't they look as inno- 
 cent as doves ? " 
 
 " Yes, they do ; but they are the vilest, most deceit- 
 ful little wretches on earth. I only brought them here 
 to wring their necks," suiting the action to the word. 
 
 " Why, what have they done ? " 
 
 "They go creeping up to other plants nobler than 
 themselves, and coax them til] they allow themselves
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 89 
 
 to be twined round and round, and then they strangle 
 their benefactors, and go on smiling the whole time in 
 that innocent, childlike manner. I could forgive them 
 anything but their falseness," and Eeata crushed up a 
 lot of the little flowers in her hand and flung them 
 from her with a disdainful movement. 
 
 " Are you, then, such an enemy of deceit ? " 
 
 " Of course," she answered, with a passing shade of 
 confusion ; then rapidly, as if to change the subject, 
 " Do you see those scarlet bells there ? . They are the 
 greatest furies I know : at this moment they are liter- 
 ally shaking with passion ; I don't know exactly what 
 it is about, but I suspect it is jealousy, because that 
 nearest cluster of vetches has got a butterfly hovering 
 over it, while they have none. Of course it is Jiot 
 right of them to show their feelings so openly ; but still, 
 it is better to be honest, and I rather like their spirit." 
 
 " You should study botany," said Otto, *' as you have 
 so much opportunity of observing plants, and take 
 such an interest in them." 
 
 " I tried to do so once, but I shall never try again. 
 I hate botany. What is the good of having a set of 
 rules which divide flowers off into classes, and teach 
 one how to analyse them? I shouldn't care for a 
 flower a bit better for knowing how it is constructed. 
 Only fancy, on the very first page, the book told me 
 to cut up an anemone. I couldn't do it — it went to 
 my heart ; so I cut up the book instead and threw it 
 into the kitchen-fire. Now I have made a botany of 
 my own, and have divided off flowers into far more
 
 90 "what's in a name?" 
 
 satisfactory classes. There is a sentimental class, a 
 fierce class, a silly class ; then there is a silly-senti- 
 mental, a fierce-sentimental, and so on." 
 
 " I wonder you have not got tired of them ; you 
 must know all the kinds by heart, surely, having lived 
 all your life in this country." 
 
 " But I have not lived all my life in this part of the 
 country. I came here only a few weeks ago; and 
 most of the flowers were quite new to me then. There 
 is such a variety of them here, because it lies so high 
 up in the hills ; down in the plains there are hardly 
 any." 
 
 " How does it come that my aunt never visited this 
 place before ? It is surely not a new acquisition." 
 
 " Oh dear, no, it has been in the family for ever so 
 long ; only Mr Boden would never stay here. He was 
 a great invalid during his last years, and always lived 
 
 at near the sea; he fancied that no other air 
 
 would suit him." 
 
 "My aunt seems very much attached to you," he 
 remarked, presently. 
 
 " Oh yes, we are very good friends." 
 
 "I suppose," she continued, speaking "rather hurried- 
 ly, " you are surprised at your aunt having a young 
 girl for her companion; but, I assure you, it works 
 very well, and is far better for her than if she had 
 somebody of her own age. I help to keep her alive, 
 and cheer her up ; it is just on the same principle that 
 one selects a staid elderly person to take care of a 
 lively young girl. You surely don't find anything odd
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 91 
 
 in the arrangement ? " she concluded, anxiously scan- 
 ning Otto's face. 
 
 Otto had thought the arrangement very odd at first ; 
 but even after these few hours, he had had opportunity 
 of observing Eeata's energetic management of all the 
 household matters — taking, in fact, all the trouble off 
 the old lady's hands : and therefore he answered now, 
 "Oh no, not at all, I assure you; it is an excellent 
 arrangement, I think/' 
 
 Had Otto been in a cooler state of mind, he could 
 not have failed to notice the evident nervousness in 
 Eeata's voice and manner ; as it was, these symptoms 
 passed unobserved. 
 
 " Now I have finished," she exclaimed, springing up, 
 and shaking from her dress all the loose leaves €ind 
 fragments of stalks which clung to it. 
 
 "And what is to become of these poor rejected 
 ones ? " he asked ; " do none of them deserve a place ? " 
 
 " Why, there is that poor laughing daisy," she said, 
 stooping to pick it up. " I have thrown it away by 
 mistake. There, you can stick it in your button-hole, if 
 you are particularly anxious to save its life ; and here 
 is one just like it for Ficha's collar." 
 
 There was nothing very flattering in the way the 
 flower was bestowed, yet Otto took it from her eagerly. 
 
 " I shall keep it as a remembrance of my first Mexi- 
 can walk," he said, half to himself, while he secured 
 the daisy. 
 
 " It will be dark in five minutes," said Eeata ; " we 
 must be off — we have been too long already."
 
 92 "what's in a name?" 
 
 He followed her along the path, which in the grow- 
 ing darkness offered a very precarious footing. 
 
 "I think I see the black-and-white shawl through 
 the trees," said he, after some silence ; " we must be 
 close to where my aunt is now." 
 
 "Yes, it is the Ancient^ By the by, Baron 
 
 Bodenbach," and Eeata stopped short on the path, " I 
 must say something to you before we go on." 
 
 " Can't you tell it me as we proceed, Fraulein Eeata ; 
 it is really getting so dark that I fear we shall lose 
 our way." 
 
 " Leave me to take care of that ; but I must abso- 
 lutely speak to you before we go on another step. It 
 
 is — it is I have been wanting all day to ask you, 
 
 would you mind if I go on calling the old lady, your 
 aunt, as I have been used to do ? I tried leaving it off, 
 as I thought you might dislike it ; but the effort is too 
 great, and will probably undermine my constitution if 
 I continue it longer." 
 
 "Anything rather than that. Let us hear what is 
 this title which is to cause me so much surprise ! " 
 
 " Well, I have been accustomed," began Eeata, nerv- 
 ously, " to call her — the " 
 
 "The what ? I assure you I am nerved for anything." 
 
 " The Ancient Giraffe" said Eeata, hanging her head 
 a little, while the words came out like a rocket. 
 
 " Is that all ? " and Otto burst into a hearty laugh. 
 " Well, if she is able to bear it, there is no reason why 
 I should not do so." 
 
 " You see," said Eeata, apologetically, " she is very
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 93 
 
 tall, and has rather a long neck, it has always struck 
 me ; and I have often got into disgrace for saying it." 
 
 " It was perhaps rather an odd way," began Otto. 
 
 " And so you really won't mind it ? " she burst in. " I 
 can't tell you what a relief it is ! It isn't so very dread- 
 ful, after all, is it ? I ami sure you must often have 
 heard young ladies in Europe calling their friends by 
 similar names. Now haven't you?" she asked, anxiously. 
 
 " I can't exactly call to mind an instance in point," 
 and Otto smiled to himself as he tried to fancy Coun- 
 tess Halka or Hermine Schwerendorf calling anybody 
 an " Ancient Giraffe : " " but never mind ; this is not in 
 Europe." 
 
 They were now close to aunt Olivia's tree-stump. 
 
 " Here we are, Ancient Giraffe ! " called out Keata, 
 running on towards her ; " I hope you have not been 
 eaten up ! " 
 
 " But, my dear, where have you been all this time ? " 
 began the old lady, almost crying with agitation. 
 
 It had indeed grown quite dark now; they could 
 not see each other's faces. The trunks could but 
 dimly be discerned around; the fantastically-twisted 
 branches appeared like spectres through the gloom; 
 the sounds of animal life (the night sounds, for in the 
 tropics there are day and night sounds) were strange 
 and plaintive amid the rustle of the leaves. 
 
 To Otto it seemed a mystery how they were ever to 
 get out of the wood ; but Eeata was perfectly at her 
 ease on the subject.. She declined his offer of going on 
 in front to fray the passage.
 
 94 "what's in a name?" 
 
 " No, thank you ; you would be of no use whatever. 
 I shall take the lead. Close behind me the Giraffe must 
 walk, and then you as rear-guard ; and perhaps, if you 
 don't mind, you will carry the Porcupine." 
 
 '' The Porcupine, Fraulein Eeata ? " 
 
 " Yes, Ficha, of course." 
 
 "Oh, anything — I will do anything," acquiesced 
 Otto, recklessly. " Come along, White Puppy, valuable 
 Dromedary, or whatever your name is ! But, Fraulein 
 Eeata, I cannot let you go on in advance " 
 
 " Please be quiet. Baron Bodenbach, and do as I tell 
 you ; it is your only chance of getting home to-night. 
 And remember, both of you, that if you step lightly 
 and quickly, there will be less chance of being bitten 
 by snakes. Of course, the coralillos are sometimes 
 twisted round the branches, and will sting from above ; 
 but one must just take one's chance of that. Now 
 let us start ; remember never to lose sight of me, and 
 to follow me as closely as you can." 
 
 "Where would I not follow her to?" Otto vague- 
 ly interrogated himself. Her admirable coolness en- 
 tranced him. They were in no real danger, of course, 
 except the usual risk of snakes ; but yet their position, 
 together with the phantom -like forms and sounds 
 around them, was enough to shake the nerve of any 
 woman. 
 
 As for the old lady, she was so completely upset, 
 that being already on the point of tears, the cry of a 
 fox close at hand set her off into a fit of sobbing. 
 
 " I cannot let you cry now, Ancient Giraffe," said
 
 LOVE AT FIEST SIGHT f 95 
 
 Eeata, imperiously ; " you had better give your shawl 
 to Baron Bodenbach to carry, or else I cannot guaran- 
 tee for your getting out of the forest safe. And, Baron 
 Bodenbach, do not let your aunt stop for a minute." 
 
 They began their march ; their only light the fire- 
 flies, which darted to and fro across their path — for 
 stars or moonlight could not penetrate here. Once 
 they caught sight of two shining emerald eyes on a 
 branch close to them, so close that a sound of breath- 
 ing reached their ears ; but although the old lady nearly 
 fainted with terror, nothing came of it. 
 
 A minute later there was a strong flapping sound 
 on ahead, close to where Eeata was, and Otto was on 
 the point of rushing to her rescue. 
 
 " Don't come ; it is only a guajalote, a wild turkey," 
 she called out to him, "which I have frightened up 
 from the grass." 
 
 " How is it that there is cattle about here ? " Otto 
 asked, presently ; " I can hear the lowing of the oxen. 
 Perhaps we have missed our way." 
 
 " We are all right," she answered, without turning 
 her head ; " it is the call of the night-heron which you 
 mistake." 
 
 Now they proceeded in silence ; Eeata's white dress 
 gleamed through the shade like a guiding beacon. On 
 she walked, never hesitating for a moment as to the 
 path ; now pushing aside a heavy curtain of creepers, 
 now breaking through small branches, scrambling over 
 a fallen trunk, or calling out to them to take care of 
 this stone or the straggling root of some tree.
 
 96 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Eich exotic perfumes filled the air and made it 
 heavy ; they seemed to have gone to Otto's head, for 
 he was walking as in a trance, not looking where he 
 stepped, but keeping his eyes fixed on that white form 
 in advance. A delicious intoxication had seized on 
 all his senses; he felt as if he could have followed 
 her for ever. 
 
 Poor Otto ! He is as yet unconscious of what has 
 befallen him. That night in the Mexican forest is the 
 beginning of a new era in his existence. Till now he 
 has lived without object or aim; but to-day he has 
 tasted Love, and everything will seem precious or 
 worthless to him, according to whether it is or is not 
 connected with Eeata. 
 
 But why pity him ? He is happy without knowing 
 the cause of it ; and perhaps his very unconsciousness 
 is part of his bliss. Next morning he will awake with 
 an undefined thrill of delight at his heart — a sense that 
 something new has happened to him ; and yet not new 
 either, for it belongs to the character of Love to fancy 
 that its object has never been unknown. The lover 
 can hardly realise that the time ever existed before he 
 set eyes on the one he adores. " How could I be fool 
 enough to imagine that life had any interest, or the 
 world any beauty, before knowing her ? Why have I 
 wasted so many precious years of my life, which ought 
 to have been spent in adoring ? Why did I not feel, 
 why did I not guess, that such an angel existed ? " 
 Such are the passionate though rather illogical ques- 
 tions which many a lover addresses to himself, after
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? 97 
 
 beholding or recognising for the first time the real 
 object of his affections. 
 
 But Otto has not yet reached that point ; he is still 
 at the first supremely peaceful stage, when he looks 
 neither into the past nor the future, but is content in 
 the consciousness that the present moment is one of 
 unquestioned happiness. 
 
 Has it been love at first sight in his case ? Probably 
 Otto, even after his eyes are opened to his state, will 
 never be able to answer this question — never be able to 
 render himself account of the exact moment when the 
 enthralment began. 
 
 He has loved before — frequently, in fact, and hotly 
 at the moment ; but beside the passion which possesses 
 him now, the memory of those affections is pale ^d 
 weak, or they would appear pale and weak if he could 
 bethink himself of them now — if all else were not 
 swallowed up in the burning light of this new love, of 
 this love which is the truest one of his life. 
 
 But the walk through the forest came to an end at 
 last. Otto could not forbear a sigh as they emerged 
 from the black shadows into the starlight, and Eeata 
 said, " We are at home." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 
 
 CHAPTEE VIIL 
 
 CROAKING. 
 
 Guarda che bianna Luna, 
 Guarda che notte azzurra, 
 Un aura non sussurra, 
 Non tremula uno stel." 
 
 — Canzone. 
 
 The hot June sun was sending its rays through the 
 green shutters of the little study at Steinbuhl. They 
 lighted up a room not devoid of comfort, but with the 
 stamp of shabbiness on every part. Baron Bodenbach 
 and his eldest son were engaged in conversation. The 
 old man was in an easy-chair, and Arnold at the writ- 
 ing-table, where he had been looking over accounts ; 
 but now he had pushed away the books and was listen- 
 ing to his father. 
 
 " Take my advice, Arnold, and do it at once. Why 
 not do it this week while she is here ? Summer is the 
 best time for these things ; it was just in June that I 
 proposed to my dear cousin Olivia." 
 
 " I don't see that summer or winter has anything to 
 do with the matter ; but I do think the whole business 
 would be premature at present."
 
 CROAKING. 99 
 
 " But, my dear Arnold, what can your objections be ? 
 She is a handsome girl, and a good girl ; her family is 
 irreproachable, and she has sufficient fortune to make 
 her a fair match for any one." 
 
 " Oh, of course," Arnold interrupted, " if I ever marry, 
 I will marry Hermine — it would be impossible for me 
 to think of any one else ; but as she is barely eighteen, 
 it is as well, I think, to give her a little more time to 
 see the world in before she is tied down to our humble 
 fortunes." 
 
 Baron Bodenbach sighed, but still returned to the 
 charge. 
 
 " You forget the principal thing ; you forget what a 
 difference her fortune would make to us. It is very 
 hard, struggling on as we are doing, Arnold ; and it 
 would be so easy for you to make it different." 
 
 Arnold left the writing-table, and began pacing the 
 room; after the fourth turn he stopped before his 
 father's chair and spoke — 
 
 " Yes, father, it is hard ; I know it, and " — with a 
 short sigh — " none better than I ; but " — here he 
 broke off and walked towards the window, and only 
 when he had reached it he finished his sentence — " but 
 I would hate owing anything to anybody." 
 
 His father looked greatly distressed. " So that' is 
 your real objection, Arnold ; I thought it was not only 
 Hermine's age. Your sentiments are quite the right 
 thing, I am sure -, it is best never to owe anything." 
 
 The Baron apparently did not know how to proceed 
 with his phrase ; he shifted his position in the easy-
 
 100 "what's in a name?" 
 
 chair once or twice, and looked anxiously at his son, 
 waiting for him to speak. But Arnold was standing 
 at the window, with his hands behind his back, and 
 his nose rather high up in the air — intent, it seemed, 
 upon getting a favourable view of the trees outside 
 through the bars of the lattice shutters. 
 
 "But surely it always was a half-arranged matter 
 between us," the father began, almost timidly, after 
 a pause, "that you and Hermine should marry some 
 day ; and what is the good of putting it off longer ? " 
 
 *' Oh yes, it always was an arranged matter," was 
 the answer, given rather absently; "but then" — re- 
 linquishing his study of the trees, and turning away 
 from the window — "I think there is some good in 
 putting it off longer. We have every hope now that 
 our fortunes are going to undergo some sort of an im- 
 provement; by next year we may be in a different 
 position from what we are in now, and I should then 
 be able to offer Hermine something of what she will 
 bring me." 
 
 " But will you not change your mind, Arnold, 
 before that time? You know how I have set my 
 heart on your marrying Hermine, and young people 
 are sometimes so apt to do that." 
 
 "No fear, father," laughed Arnold; "you know I 
 have a wholesome dread of womankind in general. 
 Hermine is the only woman I could ever think of as 
 my wife." 
 
 " But if you are so fond of her " the Baron was 
 
 beginning ; but his son continued without heeding —
 
 CROAKING. 101 
 
 " A few years ago, when I was still serving, nothing 
 would have induced me to take such a step — to any 
 aspiring soldier matrimony is, in my eyes, no less than 
 ruin ; but having now given up the career, it has be- 
 come practicable for me ; and — in short, my mind is 
 made up on the subject/' 
 
 "Are you quite sure? "his father persisted, seem- 
 ingly unable to give up pressing the point. 
 
 "I am perfectly certain," Arnold replied, drawing 
 up his figure with a slight degree of haughtiness — a 
 somewhat frequent habit with him. " I think, father, 
 that I do not often change my mind when it has been 
 made up." 
 
 " Of course, of course not ; I am quite aware of that, 
 — you are quite right, I am sure : but just for my peace 
 of mind, Arnold, if nothing goes wrong, next summer, 
 next June, let us say — I could not think of binding 
 you by any promise, Arnold, my dear boy — but will 
 you speak to Hermine next June ? " 
 
 At this moment light footsteps were heard coming 
 rapidly along the passage towards the room. 
 
 "We need not speak on this subject again," said 
 Arnold, quickly; "but if you wish it, it shall be next 
 June." 
 
 The door flew open, and Gabrielle, with her Italian 
 greyhound racing at her heels, rushed in breathless. 
 
 " A letter from Otto — a letter from Otto ! and it is 
 for you, Arnold ! " she screamed, at the pitch of her 
 voice, while waving the paper wildly above her head. 
 She had been watching at the drawing-room window,
 
 102 "what's in a name?" 
 
 as sHe had been doing every day lately ; and the mo- 
 ment she had caught sight, through the trees, of the 
 lad who served them as letter-bearer, had rushed out 
 into the hot sun, and returned a minute later, breath- 
 less and panting, but triumphantly clasping the pre- 
 cious envelope. 
 
 " There now, you foolish child," said Arnold, taking 
 the letter from her, while he looked severely at her 
 flushed cheeks and dilated eyes, "you have run out 
 without your hat or parasol, and have knocked your- 
 self up for to-day. In an hour Hermine will be here, 
 and you won'^t be fit to go out walking with her ; you 
 had better go and lie down at once." 
 
 " Oh no, Arnold," she implored — and the corners of 
 her mouth began going down ominously — " I can't lie 
 down till I have heard what there is in the letter; 
 don't make me — please, don't make me ! " 
 
 "You are rather hard upon her, I think, Arnold," 
 put in the old Baron, who had laid aside his cigar with 
 trembling hands, and was sitting up in an attitude of 
 eager expectation ; " let her hear what Otto says first." 
 
 "Very well, let her stay," Arnold assented, rather 
 ungraciously, while he opened the letter. 
 
 It was written in good spirits, but it was not long. 
 Otto gave a brief account of his arrival and reception, 
 and then passed on to a slight description of aunt 
 Olivia : " In appearance my aunt is considerably older 
 than I was led to expect — nearer sixty than fifty, I 
 should have guessed; but climate, I suppose, has 
 something to do with that. Although I looked out
 
 CROAKING. 103 
 
 sharp, there were no traces of beauty which I could 
 for the life of me make out; and as for the much- 
 vaunted eyebrows, they have, I fear, been transferred, 
 and now occupy a lower position on her face — above 
 the upper lip, in fact." 
 
 further on he wrote : " My aunt appears very much 
 agitated at any reference to my father. Of course, not 
 a word about business has passed yet between us ; that 
 is to be left for later, I suppose. She does not look as 
 if she were going to be difficult to tackle ; and I flatter 
 myself that I shall be able to talk her over to my own 
 views. My only fear is that her companion, who 
 seems to have an undue share of influence over her, 
 may try to wheedle her out of her fortune — that is, 
 a good slice of it. If so, it is lucky I came out here 
 to represent our interests." 
 
 Most of the letter Arnold read aloud, only now 
 and then judiciously skipping some phrase or expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Dear Otto !" exclaimed the delighted father ; " what 
 a satisfactory letter ! It is the longest I have ever known 
 him to write — he must be in such good spirits, dear 
 boy!" 
 
 " Well, I trust it will all turn out well," said Arnold, 
 calmly, as he folded up the letter ; " things seem to be 
 going smooth, at any rate." 
 
 " Smooth ! I think they are going brilliantly." 
 
 " Can't see anything particularly brilliant as yet," 
 laughed Arnold, "except that they have given him 
 food and lodging. Well, we will see."
 
 104 "what's in a name?" 
 
 The Baron, however, persevered in his sanguine 
 mood. Everything was going brilliantly, according to 
 his ideas. He saw, in his mind, splendid prospects 
 unrollinsj themselves for his children. Till now their 
 future had been an anxious thing. From their father 
 they would have next to no fortune. Arnold would 
 manage for himself, but Gabrielle could not ; and Otto 
 would probably not manage either, to judge from the 
 way in which he had hitherto conducted his expendi- 
 ture. On two or three occasions already, the Baron 
 had found himself obliged to put himself to positive 
 inconvenience in order to satisfy his younger son's 
 creditors. The income, as it was, was slender enough 
 to cover wants ; and the payment of these bills had 
 more than once occasioned privation of comforts, some- 
 times even of necessities, at Steinbiihl. In fact, Otto 
 had always been the chief anxiety. He was so im- 
 pressionable, so susceptible to many things — to a 
 pretty face, for instance — that there would always 
 be some danger of a sudden, undesirable attachment 
 springing up, which might entangle him against his 
 will in a mesalliance, and thus destroy his best chance 
 of gaining a comfortable independence. For although 
 nobody as much as Otto so truly appreciated and 
 coveted that comfortable independence, and although 
 to make a rich marriage (as has been said before) was 
 his chief object and aim, still there was no answering 
 for what he might not do under the influence of pas- 
 sion, and how far he might not lose sight, for the 
 moment at least, of the more important point.
 
 CROAKING. 105 
 
 His father never would feel quite at rest till Otto 
 was fairly settled down in matrimonial life ; and there- 
 fore the Baron had been greatly pleased on hearing of 
 his son's attentions to a Polish heiress, Comtesse Halka 
 Przeszechowska. It might have been supposed that 
 the personal experiences which the old man had under- 
 gone should have cooled his faith in any mariage 
 de convena7ice ; but it was not so, and in spite of his 
 fancied lifelong attachment to his cousin, he was 
 eager to make one of his sons, at least, follow his 
 example by marrying an heiress. 
 
 Whether Otto's suit with the Polish Comtesse would 
 have prospered ultimately, was doubtful. It could 
 hardly have been expected that the girl's parents would 
 be very willing to give her to a man so utterly without 
 fortune as was Otto. The old Baron's hopes would have 
 been still fainter if he had known what a dangerous 
 rival Otto had in his captain. Now, however, this was 
 different ; or at least the old Baron, busying himself in 
 thought with the matter, decided that it would be all 
 different — that uncle Max had, or cousin Olivia would, 
 provide for them all generously, and that, therefore. 
 Otto would be in a position in which his hopes with 
 regard to Comtesse Halka would be almost sure of 
 fulfilment. 
 
 As for Arnold, there never had for him been any 
 danger of the sort before mentioned. He was far better 
 able to take care of himself than his brother ; and being 
 so thoroughly, even exaggeratedly, aristocratic in his 
 notions, there was no fear of his ever lowering himself
 
 106 "what's in a name?" 
 
 by a foolish marriage. It has been said before, that 
 Arnold had nothing of what is called " a ladies' man," 
 and never was a favourite in women's society. From 
 his own choice he never began conversation with a 
 lady, and if forced into it by circumstances, was sure 
 to start wrong topics ; never paid any compliments or 
 noticed a woman's dress ; usually forgot to pick up 
 fans or handkerchiefs, drape cloaks round fair shoul- 
 ders, or any of the hundred and one little attentions 
 which ladies think they are entitled to expect from 
 gentlemen. 
 
 And this did not come in the least degree from shy- 
 ness ; but simply because he did not know how to talk 
 to women, and did not care to acquire the art. 
 
 The only girl besides his sister with whom he was 
 on intimate terms was Hermine Schwerendorf, the guest 
 whom they expected to-day. 
 
 The Schwerendorfs were of an old aristocracy, pos- 
 sessed of a small estate, and a fortune which, although 
 not much larger than what the Bodenbachs had, still 
 enabled the two old people and their one daughter, 
 Hermine, to live in a far more comfortable style than 
 these neighbours of theirs. The intimacy between the 
 two families had sprung up thirty years ago, when the 
 Schwerendorfs had come to that part of the country 
 and settled down. The Bodenbachs were then enjoy- 
 ing their temporary return of prosperity, immediately 
 after Baron Walther had married his rich wife. Since 
 then, their fortunes had rapidly declined, while the 
 position of the newly-settled family had remained un-
 
 CROAKING. 107 
 
 changed. But their relations to each other underwent 
 no difference. The Schwerendorfs still continued to 
 look up to their friends in the same way they had done 
 when the Bodenbach name was the great name in the 
 country. A constant intercourse was kept up between 
 them ; the young people had played together as chil- 
 dren, and called each other by their Christian names. 
 The old summer-house at Steinbiihl had been the scene 
 of many of their exploits ; sometimes it was a fortress 
 which Arnold defended against Otto — sometimes it was 
 a settler's hut or a royal palace, as the occasion de- 
 manded. These were but children's games, but many 
 a life's romance has grown out of slenderer materials. 
 And it was so with Hermine. Imperceptibly to her- 
 self and others, Arnold became the one hero of her Jife. 
 To her he was the impersonifi cation of everything good 
 and great and noble. All this strengthened and took 
 shape as Hermine grew up. It coloured her whole 
 existence, and became part of her being. In the same 
 way, as she could not remember any past in which 
 Arnold had had no part, she never realised that there 
 might be a possible future away from him. Not being 
 of an imaginative disposition, she did not, as many 
 other girls in her place would have done, weave this 
 romance of hers into brilliant air-castles, and paint out 
 the years to come in all their details ; but merely, when 
 she did look into the future, she always thought of 
 herself as Arnold's wife — and felt intensely though 
 calmly happy at the thought that it was to be so. 
 In the girl's simplicity and singleness of character.
 
 108 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the thought never once crossed her mind that this 
 merging of her whole being into one idea, this utter 
 reliance on one person, might prove dangerous to her 
 peace. Fortunately there seemed to he little ground to 
 fear the disappointment of her hopes, for the same idea 
 had long been entertained by both families. Nothing 
 definite had ever been said on either side, and it 
 was only to-day that Baron Bodenbach had distinctly 
 spoken to his son on the subject ; but there existed a 
 passive sort of half- understanding about the matter 
 — just so much, namely, that no member of the two 
 families would have been in the slightest degree 
 surprised any day by the announcement that Arnold 
 and Hermine were engaged, whereas the astonishment 
 would have been great on hearing that either of the 
 two was about to form another union. Arnold him- 
 self seemed in no way averse to the idea. 
 
 It was a lovely June evening, that day of Hermine's 
 visit to Steinbuhl. The heat had been intense ; and 
 it was not till after their evening meal that the three 
 young people strolled out to enjoy the softness of the 
 night air and the delicious fragrance of the new-mown 
 hay. The moon had completed her second quarter, 
 and, standing out from a cloudless sky, made every- 
 thing as light as day, and far more beautiful. It lent a 
 touch almost of stateliness to the old-fashioned house : 
 the pointed red roof with the gable-windows looked 
 almost grand from the end of the short, straight avenue 
 which led from the house to the highroad ; while the 
 crazy weathercock, which stands in such need of a
 
 CROAKING. 109 
 
 new coat of paint, and is so little likely ever to get it, 
 might be taken for a gallant pennon waving on the 
 summit. The indescribable air of money-want, the 
 many little defects of repair, which the cruel hard sun 
 shows up so pitilessly by day, are treated with far 
 more tenderness by the gentle rays of the moon. 
 
 While the sun, with stern justice, brings out the 
 beautiful as well as the unbeautiful, and puts them 
 before our eyes with equal distinctness ; the moon, like 
 a tender mother, throws a veil over imperfections, and 
 adds the charm of mystery to what is already beautiful. 
 There is deceit in this ; but it is meant kindly to us, 
 I think. 
 
 Who would guess by this silvery light that hardly 
 one of the bastions that support the stone wall of the 
 garden is quite whole, or that most of the red tiles on 
 the top are chipped or put out of place ; that the once 
 green shutters of the windows are in a state bordering 
 on dilapidation; that the woodwork of the balcony 
 shows on close inspection strong signs of incipient 
 decay ? But here it is not the moonlight alone which 
 has glossed over defects, for a close covering of Cana- 
 dian vine, that most beautiful of tropical creepers 
 which have taken root in our soil, has drawn its cur- 
 tains tightly round the frail columns, making it look 
 like a huge wren's nest ; green in summer, dazzlingly 
 scarlet in autumn, and at this moment almost black, 
 for the moonlight has only two colours — black and 
 white. 
 
 To the right of the little avenue, the lawn is bordered
 
 110 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 by a narrow stream. A quiet, placid, to all appear- 
 ances a well-behaved little stream ; but in reality its 
 course, from want of proper control, has become as 
 unruly as that of many a wilder-looking water. It 
 has stepped out of its boundaries, and encroached on 
 the grass of the lawn, which under its influence has 
 gradually lost its firm elasticity and become soft and 
 spongy. In fact, the wayward rivulet has created quite 
 a little marsh around it, where reeds and bulrushes 
 have sprung up in place of the short tufts of sward 
 which once covered the ground. At one spot, in the 
 very heart of the marsh, where the tallest reeds stand, 
 the water has formed for itself a deep round hole, 
 where it seems to lie and sulk like a spoilt child hid- 
 ing its face, out of reach of anything less airy than a 
 dragon-fly or a gnat. But the moon has found out the 
 secret haunt, and likes to throw her brightest beams 
 into the very depth of the pool, forcing the dark water 
 to smile; and the stalks of the reeds look black by 
 contrast. 
 
 There is movement and sound among the rushes and 
 in the water — little splashes and rustlings ; and if you 
 look narrowly, you wiU see many little dark objects, 
 without any definite shape, lying immovable on the 
 surface of the pool. Look more narrowly still, and 
 each of the shapeless objects will stare at you with 
 idiotic goggling eyes, — countless frogs floating lazily 
 in their native element, and recruiting strength for 
 their daily concert. 
 
 Across the avenue, at the other side, and out of reach
 
 CROAKING. Ill 
 
 of the mischievous stream, the lawn presents a better 
 figure. Even here, though, it cannot be called lawn — 
 being a cross-breed between a hayfield and an orchard. 
 Some tardy Maihdfers ^ are buzzing about, round and 
 round the plum and apple trees, foolishly surprised at 
 finding no blossoms. They feel out of place, for they 
 have miscalculated their time by three or four weeks, 
 and find, on unfolding their brown wings in the world, 
 that they are old-fashioned already, and that butterflies 
 and ladybirds are the queens of the day. Mingled with 
 the fruit-trees, and sometimes piled against them, are 
 small cocks of freshly-cut hay, not unlike big button- 
 mushrooms, both in shape and colour, for they are far 
 whiter now than by day. Each little cock has a big 
 black shadow beside it, much more conspicuous than 
 itself. The array of shadows is almost monotonous in 
 its uniformity : but stay — here is an exception ; one of 
 the little cocks at the extreme end of the field has got 
 more shadow than it would seem entitled to. The 
 rounded outline is broken by irregular shapes, which 
 seem less impassible than their surroundings. Sub- 
 dued voices enliven the stillness of the night, and the 
 faint odour of a cigar mingles with the perfume of 
 the hay. 
 
 Gabrielle had made herself a comfortable seat on the 
 top of the cock, and was lazily pulling at the hay, with 
 apparently no more object than that of extracting all 
 the withered daisies and buttercups which she could 
 find. Beside her, on the edge of her dress, her Italian 
 
 ^ Cockchafer.
 
 112 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 greyhound crouched in an attitude of graceful discom- 
 fort — its long nose, more preternaturally long than 
 usual, sinking drowsily down upon its outstretched 
 paws. 
 
 " How delightful it is to have Hermine here, isn't it, 
 Arnold ? " said Gabrielle, who was chiefly carrying on 
 the conversation. " If only Otto were with us also, it 
 would be quite perfect. What is he doing now, I won- 
 der ? What do you think he is doing, Arnold ? " 
 
 The cigar- puffs went on steadily, and no answer 
 seemed forthcoming to this sapient question. Gabri- 
 elle had some persistency in her, and attempted to 
 rouse her brother's attention by pricking the back of 
 his neck with a long stiff grass-stalk. This produced 
 some efiect. 
 
 " I wonder you don't ask me what I think all Ot- 
 to's brother officers, from the colonel downwards, are 
 doing at this moment!" he exclaimed, impatiently; 
 " my chances of knowing would be just as good in 
 one case as in the other." 
 
 Arnold was lying in a posture of oriental ease, 
 stretched almost at full length on the grass. Perhaps 
 it was only the deceitful moonlight which made it 
 appear as if he were lying at the feet of Hermine. 
 Hermine, with her back against the haycock, and her 
 head thrown back upon it, was occupied in doing 
 nothing. 
 
 The moonlight is full upon her face, and here also 
 its touch has been favourable ; for, seen at this moment, 
 her fine features in strong relief, the colour in her cheek
 
 CROAKING. 113 
 
 softened to a delicate tint, and the strange light glanc- 
 ing along the coils of her heavy flaxen plaits, she looks 
 positively beautiful ; whereas by dayhght she has never 
 been called more than a handsome girl. For a very 
 fastidious taste, the lines about the mouth and chin are 
 too heavy, the ripe scarlet lips a trifle too full, the blue 
 eyes somewhat monotonous in their unvarying sweet- 
 ness of expression. Her height is a trying one for a 
 woman ; but she carries herself well, if with rather too 
 much stateliness. In short, the tout ensemble of her 
 appearance has something rather too ponderous for a 
 girl, but which in a young matron would be quite in 
 place, and almost perfection for the model of some 
 ancient German heroine. 
 
 " I wish you were not so silent to-night, Arnold," 
 Gabrielle began again in a minute. " I. wish you would 
 talk. Was there nothing more in Otto's letter ? Why 
 does he not say how many rooms there are in aunt 
 Olivia's house ? Or what the companion is like ; 
 whether she is young or old?" 
 
 "What can it matter," retorted Arnold, making a 
 change in his oriental position, "whether there are 
 half-a-dozen or two dozen rooms in the house? or 
 whether the companion is thirty or fifty?" 
 
 " I suppose she was not worth describing," Hermine 
 put in, mildly. 
 
 There was silence now for some minutes. Gabrielle, 
 the chief talker, being subdued by the want of favour 
 with which her topics of conversation had been re- 
 ceived, waited for some one else to start a subject. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 "what's in a name?" 
 
 No one seemed inclined to do so — that is, no one but 
 the frogs at the other side of the avenue. A solitary 
 croak was heard across from the marsh ; and another 
 followed, and again another, until the croaking voices, 
 answering each other, were joined in a monotonous, 
 overpowering concert. ISTot such an unruly concert 
 either, as might be supposed ; for the pauses and begin- 
 nings are evidently regulated by some means or other. 
 
 have wondered sometimes what these means are ; 
 whether it is some mysterious instinct which sways the 
 amphibious chorus, or whether they follow the lead of 
 some one amongst them, who acts as bandmaster to the 
 rest. 
 
 " There are those horrid frogs again ! " burst out Ga- 
 brielle, forgetting her resolutions of silence; "wouldn't 
 Otto be savage if he were here ! . Do you remember, 
 Hermine, how he used to throw stones at them to 
 make them be quiet ? " 
 
 " Poor frogs ! I always was sorry for them ; I find 
 nothing disagreeable in the sound. On the contrary, 
 I never fall asleep so pleasantly as when listening to 
 them." 
 
 " Oh, how can you, Hermine ! " shrieked Gabrielle, 
 with horror ; " fancy listening to frogs ! I always shut 
 my window quite tight, so as not to hear their vicious 
 croaking voices ; and sometimes I have to put wadding 
 in my ears, or I go on hearing the sound even after I 
 am asleep, and they haunt me all night.'* 
 
 "'Now, Gabrielle dear, are you not exaggerating a 
 little ? " put in her friend, soothingly. " How can you
 
 CKOAKING. 115 
 
 get so excited about such a trifle?" — for in truth Ga- 
 brielle had worked herself up into a state on the sub- 
 ject of her fancied enemies. "I cannot help liking 
 the frogs, for they remind me of dear Steinbiihl ; and 
 I always miss them, even at home." 
 
 " I have no particular objection to the animals," ob- 
 served Arnold, " as long as they remain in their proper 
 place ; but we certainly had too much of their society 
 that time ten years ago, when Otto and I tried to 
 drain the lawn, and only succeeded in swamping the 
 cellar." 
 
 " And how angry Otto was with me," said Gabrielle, 
 " because I screamed when I met a frog on the stair- 
 case ! He said it was ungrateful of me to cast up the 
 frogs in his face, after he had taken all that troub^p to 
 rid the neighbourhood of the marsh." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Arnold ; " to this day Otto cannot 
 bear being laughed at about the matter. He offered 
 to repeat the experiment at the time, but the joint 
 entreaties of the whole family prevailed upon him to 
 relinquish his project." 
 
 A pause, broken only by the croak, croak, croak of 
 the frogs yonder. 
 
 " I wonder," said Gabrielle at last, " what we will be 
 doing next June ? whether we will all sit together in 
 the same haycock, as we are doing to-night, and Otto 
 with us ? Do you think so, Arnold ? " 
 
 " Do I think the haycock will be the same ? Couldn't 
 you have answered that question without reference to 
 me ? I daresay we will be sitting on some haycock or
 
 116 "what's in a name?" 
 
 other next June, and find it quite as pleasant as we 
 are doing now," he concluded, with an odd smile lurk- 
 ing about the corners of his mouth. He was thinking 
 of the half-promise he had given his father, and in- 
 stinctively his eyes sought Hermine's. Some fore- 
 shadowing of the truth she must have read in his, 
 for she looked away from him, and, as far as the 
 moonlight would let one see, her colour deepened. 
 
 Next June ! How long the time would seem till 
 the summer came ! and yet how it made her heart beat 
 to think of what it must bring for her ! With one of 
 the heart's strange contradictions, she felt relieved that 
 her happiness should be postponed; it would have 
 seemed too overwhelming had she stood on its brink. 
 
 The white mist was rising higher over the marsh, 
 and Gabrielle shivered. Arnold started, and rose to 
 his feet. He too had been thinking of next June, and 
 had forgotten how bad for Gabrielle the night air was. 
 
 That night, when Hermine was in her room, she 
 stood for long leaning out of the window into the full 
 moonshine — watching the shadows which fell across 
 the avenue, and listening to the dull croaking which 
 she said she liked, and which had never sounded to 
 her so melodious as to-night. 
 
 Her window was left wide open, and in falling 
 asleep at last, the only sound which the night air 
 carried up to her was still the same monotonous 
 croak, croak, croak.
 
 117 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 
 
 ' Herr Ritter, ist Eure Lieb' so heiss ; ' 
 Wie Ihr mir's schwort zu jeder Stund, ' 
 Ei, so hebt mir den Handschuh auf ! " 
 
 — Schiller. 
 
 Croak, croak, croak it sounded in at the open window, 
 through which the morning sun was beginning to send 
 its warm rays. 
 
 Reata awoke with a start, and rubbed her eyes 
 violently. It was long past her time of rising, and 
 there was no dis<?uisin£j the fact that she had over- 
 slept herself — a thing of most rare occurrence. 
 
 Past eight o'clock actually, the hour when she 
 usually was on her return from her morning's walk in 
 the forest ! It was provoking to have missed it to-day. 
 She sat up in bed and looked towards the window : on 
 the broad low sill a large green tree-frog was squatting, 
 giving forth at intervals the booming croak which had 
 roused her from her slumber. 
 
 Ficha on the veranda outside, with one paw deli- 
 cately raised, and her upper lip drawn up ever so
 
 118 "what's in a name?" 
 
 slightly, was regarding the intruder with an air of 
 profound but silent disgust. To bark at such a low 
 animal would have been far beneath her dignity. 
 
 " That means rain," said Eeata, referring to the frog, 
 not to Ficha, as she hastily rose and rapidly got 
 through her toilet. 
 
 Otto had been watching the house impatiently for 
 the last two hours ; but now, fairly wearied out with 
 waiting, he resolutely turned away and bent his steps 
 in the direction of the farm-buildings. 
 
 " I must have a look at that roan again," he said to 
 himself — at the same time, however, glancing back over 
 his shoulder, to see if nobody was yet forthcoming. 
 
 " Holloa ! what's this ? " as his attention was arrested 
 by the sight of a freshly-painted yellow gig (I don't 
 think it was exactly a gig either, in the correct sense of 
 the word ; but it was more like a gig than anything 
 else), evidently just arrived, for the tall white mare 
 was steaming hot. 
 
 Otto put up his hand to shade his eyes from the sun 
 and obtain a better view of this strange vehicle ; but at 
 the same moment he became aware of a nearer object, 
 a man in a yellow nankeen suit, walking briskly to- 
 wards him. The colour alone would have made Otto 
 instinctively connect the man with the gig, had not 
 the fact of the rarity of such apparitions pointed to the 
 same conclusion. For ten days Otto had not seen a 
 new face — for it was ten days now since his arrival 
 here, — and with a slight movement of something like 
 excitement, he unconsciously quickened his step to
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 119 
 
 meet this fellow -creature. Human nature lias its 
 demands; and any man, even a man in love, will 
 gladly hail the first face he sees, after having been 
 (Jeharred from society for any length of time. 
 
 In Mexico, ceremony is easily dispensed with, and 
 the two men had soon exchanged greetings. 
 
 The wearer of the yellow nankeen suit was short 
 and broad of stature; he was one of those painfully 
 fresh-coloured men often met with in our countries, 
 but seldom in the tropics. Such men have usually 
 got thick lips and bushy hair, — and here was no ex- 
 ception to the rule ; for the crop of closely-cut curls, 
 which burst from under the brim of his wide straw 
 hat, was dense enough to serve for foundation to some 
 sorts of fancy-work ; with a sharp pair of scissors, end- 
 less patterns could have been traced on it, like on 
 raised velvet. 
 
 In age, the new-comer presented an appearance of 
 about thirty-five. The first thing which attracted 
 attention about him was the general air of self-satis- 
 faction which prevaded his whole person. Moreover, 
 there was a very perceptible dash of the Hebrew about 
 him; and the name of Herr Emanuel Fadenhecht, 
 under which he introduced himself, served to give 
 colouring to this suggestion. This man informed Otto, 
 further, that he was the junior partner of the attorney 
 
 at E , who was Miss Bodenbach's banker and man 
 
 of business. 
 
 The mention of business made Otto prick up his 
 ears. " Come, this is just the sort of gushing fellow I
 
 120 "what's in a name?" 
 
 want," he thouglit ; " with a little skilful pumping, I 
 shall extract lots of information from him." 
 
 After the unavoidable preliminaries of conversation, 
 Otto made the first step towards pumping, by saying, 
 in a studiously careless tone, "You have come, I pre- 
 sume, on a summons from Miss Bodenbach ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, just so — on a summons : it is the fourth 
 time within the last two months ; that makes an aver- 
 age of once a-fortnight. Not so bad, is it ? " and Mr 
 Fadenhecht rubbed his hands and laughed, in what he 
 considered to be a pleasant manner. 
 
 "Miss Bodenbach keeps your time well employed 
 then, it seems ? " Otto remarked, carefully removing 
 every particle of curiosity from his voice. 
 
 " Yes, well employed — well employed, that's the word 
 for it," said the attorney, shutting one eye, and with 
 the other throwing a sidelong glance on his companion. 
 
 "Have you any notion what your mission is to- 
 day ? " 
 
 ''What my mission is to-day? Oh no, not the 
 slightest notion — not the slightest notion. In fact, I 
 may say, no more notion than — than you have ! " and 
 Mr Fadenhecht rubbed his hands with greater force, 
 and shook all over with the merriment called forth by 
 his joke. 
 
 " Is the animal laughing at me, I wonder ? " was 
 Otto's inward reflection, as he struggled hard to mas- 
 ter his disgust. It would not do to quarrel with the 
 man yet; he might still prove useful. 
 
 Tlie other went on talking: "No, just so, not the
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 121 
 
 slightest notion ; but I have a shrewd suspicion that it 
 is something of importance." 
 
 " Keally ? " put in Otto, languidly. 
 
 "Yes, just so, of importance; maybe of great im- 
 portance. My principal would have come himself if 
 it had been possible ; but then, it was not possible. In 
 fact, I may say, it was impossible. My principal is at 
 this moment on his back with gout in his right leg " 
 — here Herr Emanuel, by way of greater clearness, 
 slapped his corresponding limb in a way which made 
 Otto shudder. " He suffers acutely from gout. In fact, 
 I may say " 
 
 " Oh yes, I suppose he does," broke in Otto, for they 
 were getting near the house now ; " and so you have 
 come in his place ? " • 
 
 "In his place, yes, just so. And I have a notion 
 that I won't fill his place so badly either. It is not the 
 first time," the attorney went on, giving his not over- 
 white collar a pull up with a movement of intense 
 complacency, ''that such missions have been intrusted 
 to me ; and I may say that they were always accom- 
 plished to everybody's satisfaction. Ladies, you know " 
 — here he again shut one eye, and this time winked with 
 the other — " always prefer a young man to an old one, 
 even in matters of business. Now I could tell you a 
 case, two years ago " 
 
 " Look here, you'll tell me all about that afterwards," 
 interrupted Otto, with rather more warmth than was 
 quite consistent with his role of ennuyd. Then, relaps- 
 ing into indifference, "There won't be time for it now,
 
 122 "what's in a name?" 
 
 you see : we will have to join the ladies in a minute ; 
 it must be quite breakfast- time." 
 
 Otto tried hard to get up an artificial yawn, and then 
 to stifle it skilfully, as he proceeded, " What splendid 
 country there is about here ! I have not begun to 
 weary of it yet, in spite of not having stirred from 
 the spot for ten days." 
 
 " Oh no, not begun to weary of it yet; just so, I quite 
 understand," with a knowing look and a smile, which 
 made all Otto's blood boil ; but hastily stifling his 
 indignation, for the moments were precious, he remarked 
 that the establishment here could surely not be an 
 expensive one to keep up. 
 
 " Expensive ? oh dear, no, no such thing. I admire 
 your perception — ha, ha, ha ! Eich people have got their 
 cranks, you know, sometimes. Yes, I may say their 
 cranks, in different ways. Like to save their money 
 in order to hoard it for their special whims and hobbies. 
 Now there was an old gentleman " — Herr Emanuel 
 threw one more sidelong glance on his companion, who 
 was biting his lips in silent irritation — " an old gentle- 
 man who died two years ago near , and for the 
 
 last third of his life had been living at the rate of four 
 hundred dollars per annum. Well, he was found to 
 be worth a hundred and eighty thousand dollars — a 
 hun-dred and eigh-ty thou-sand dollars, I tell you; 
 and he left every penny of it, I may say, to — ha, ha, 
 ha ! — to the Government, for the purpose of having 
 lightning-conductors put on all the public edifices; and 
 the best of it was, that they all had lightning-conduc-
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 123 
 
 tors already, ha, ha ! Yes, they all have their whims, 
 young and old, I say, and more especially if they belong 
 to the fair sex — ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 They were just outside the veranda now, and Otto^ 
 feeling that he could not prolong the conversation 
 without losing his temper, made a move to go in, by 
 saying, " You must be ready for your breakfast after 
 your long drive, and my aunt will be wondering what 
 has become of me." 
 
 Mr Fadenhecht turned towards Otto and looked at 
 him full for a moment. 
 
 " Ah yes, your aunt ; you call her your aunt, just so." 
 
 "Well, perhaps not exactly aunt, if you take the 
 matter quite correctly — rather first cousin once re- 
 moved ; but as she belongs to another generation, •it is 
 the most natural to call her aunt. The relationship 
 is rather complicated ; I don't exactly know what to 
 call it." 
 
 He was conscious of having spoken with an assump- 
 tion of dignity ; but it failed to impress the auditor. 
 
 "Ah yes, just so, I quite understand," Mr Faden- 
 hecht went on, speaking half to himself, while a smile 
 of amusement played upon his unhandsome features. 
 " The relationship is complicated, very complicated ; 
 relationships usually are. Eelationships have got their 
 conveniences and their ^conveniences, and sometimes 
 they turn out not to be relationships at all; mcon- 
 venient would it not be, eh ? If you take the matter 
 quite correctly — ha, ha, ha ! — your aunt, just so. I can't 
 make out, by the by, how your aunt can live so quietly
 
 124 "what's in a name?" 
 
 here alone — quite out of the world, I may say; and 
 with the exception of stray nephews who " 
 
 "But my aunt is not quite alone at any time," Otto 
 broke in, almost hotly ; " she has always got her com- 
 panion, Miss — Miss " and here suddenly he paused; 
 
 and it flashed upon his mind that he had been ten 
 days in the house, and did not know Eeata's family 
 name. No, he did not know her name. He had been 
 in love with her for ten whole days, and knew nothing 
 more but that she was called Eeata. That one word 
 had contained so much for him that he had not 
 thought of asking more, and nobody had volunteered 
 the information. 
 
 " Her companion ? Oh yes " — and Otto felt as if he 
 could have kicked the man for his odious affectation 
 of forget fulness — "your aunt's companion, just so ; but 
 then, I always think that you get very little companion- 
 ship from companions. Ha, ha, ha ! Not bad, that." 
 
 "What is her name — her family name, I mean?" 
 asked Otto, speaking very quickly ; for they Wv3re 
 already in the passage. 
 
 " Her name ? The name of your aunt's companion ? 
 Why, don't you know it ? She has got a German 
 name. Her mother " 
 
 " Oh yes ; I know all about her family," interrupted 
 the other, hastily, dreading to hear another account of 
 the dispossessed Indian chieftain ; " but I don't know 
 her name." And he had not finished saying it when 
 the absurdity of the idea struck him. 
 
 " What a hurry you are in to hear the name of your
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH. 125 
 
 aunt's companion ! " answered the other, with exasper- 
 ating slowness. " She has got a German name, I tell 
 you. Yes, a German name ; just so. I only heard it 
 for the first time myself a few months ago, and it was 
 by the merest chance — by an unforeseen chance, I 
 may say." 
 
 " What is her name ? Quick ! " Otto had his hand 
 on the door-handle. 
 
 " Just so ; I am coming to that." 
 
 " Her name ? " said Otto, imperiously. 
 
 " Lackenegg." 
 
 They were almost in the room before the last word 
 was said, and Eeata, who was making coffee at the 
 other end, might have heard it ; for Otto distinctly 
 saw her give a start as she turned round and caught 
 sight of his companion. In coming towards them she 
 looked pale, almost frightened, and glanced nervously 
 from one to the other. Without giving any one tim.e 
 to speak, she greeted the attorney with what Otto con- 
 sidered to be superfluous politeness. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr Fadenhecht? I am afraid 
 you have had a very hot drive. We hardly expected 
 you so early. And so Mr Le-Vendeur was not able 
 to come. Poor dear old man I I suppose it is the 
 gout again ? You must tell him how sorry we are." 
 
 W^hile she rattled on with unwonted volubility, 
 Eeata kept her eyes fixed full on the attorney's face, 
 with a look half questioning, half commanding. Of 
 Otto she had taken no notice whatever as yet; and 
 this he felt to be strange, for her greetings to him of
 
 126 "what's in a name?" 
 
 late had been very friendly — sometimes lie had ven- 
 tured to hope almost more than friendly. While 
 speaking, she had been nervously fumbling in her 
 pocket, and now abruptly broke off her phrase with, 
 "I must have left my keys on the veranda. Baron 
 Bodenbach, — no, not you, Mr Fadenhecht," as Herr 
 Emanuel, who as yet had been able to do nothing 
 beyond bowing and rubbing his hands, was about to 
 make a polite rush — " you are to stay here. I am sure 
 Baron Bodenbach will be so kind/' 
 
 This said with increasing nervousness ; and Otto 
 noticed that she had grown very red, and was squeez- 
 ing up little bread-pellets between her fingers. " You 
 will find them in the big hammock, I think, or, if not, 
 in Ficha's basket. Do go quick ; for I want to make 
 tea," she called after him, as Otto almost reluctantly 
 left the room. 
 
 He was surprised and hurt by her manner and her 
 evident wish to get rid of him. '' What on earth has 
 come over her, I wonder ? " he reflected, bitterly. 
 "She is quite changed since last night. Make tea, 
 indeed ! Pshaw ! " 
 
 In order to get to the hammocks he had to pass the 
 window, and in passing just caught a glimpse of Eeata 
 standing near Mr Fadenhecht, and talking to him with 
 great earnestness, but evidently with lowered voice, for 
 fear of being overheard. Even had it not been so, 
 Otto was a gentleman, and could not have spied on 
 her actions. So, turning his back upon them with a 
 feeling of disgust, he strode off towards the end of the
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH. 127 
 
 veranda. Mechanically he turned out the hammock 
 and Ficha's basket, but found no keys. The window- 
 had to be repassed; and this time he kept his back 
 towards it as much as possible, and resolutely looked 
 away. But the sound of Reata's voice, which reached 
 his ears, made his spirit fume within him. 
 
 " What can she have to say to that low cad ? Some- 
 thing I am not to hear. I am sure I have no wish to 
 do so. Sending me to look for keys, like a baby, just 
 to keep me quiet ! Why couldn't she speak out, and 
 say that she had confidences to make to this fellow ? 
 Of course I can respect her secrets — haven't the slightest 
 curiosity on the subject ; wonder what it was, though." 
 
 He felt put out, snubbed, generally ill-used; and 
 what added to his irritation was the inward conscious- 
 ness that the process of "pumping" Herr Emanuel, 
 from which he had hoped such great things, had 
 turned out a most deplorable failure. In spite of his 
 unrestrained manner and seemingly random mode of 
 conversation, that offensive but acute individual had 
 managed to answer all Otto's questions, and to respond 
 to all his suggestions, without letting him gain a single 
 point of information. 
 
 Otto decided that he was far too furious to go back 
 to breakfast ; he would leave them plenty of time for 
 their secrets, and smoke a cigar out here alone. He 
 repeated "alone'' several times to himself, as if enjoy- 
 ing the dismal sound of the word. By the time the 
 cigar was lit the pangs of hunger began to assert them- 
 selves, and it is doubtful how long his resolution would
 
 128 "what's in a name?" 
 
 have held out if he had not at that moment encoun- 
 tered aunt Olivia ; and unable to explain satisfactorily 
 the reason of his solitary grandeur, he accompanied her 
 back into the house and the breakfast-room. 
 
 Eeata and the attorney were in much the same posi- 
 tions as he had left them in — she pouring out coffee at 
 the table, and he planted with his back towards the 
 window, rubbing his hands with irrepressible glee. 
 
 " I wish he would rub the skin off them ! " thought 
 Otto, amiably, as he took his place at the table, and 
 noticed with inward disquietude Eeata's heightened 
 colour. 
 
 "Your humble servant. Miss Bodenbach," said Mr 
 Fadenhecht, advancing towards the old lady, speaking 
 with disjointed slowness, and in a tone of most pro- 
 found respect, which Otto at once set down as servile 
 cringiness ; " I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you 
 in good health." 
 
 Not a word was said about the keys ; Reata did not 
 inquire, and evidently did not expect to get them : and 
 Otto's temper was not improved when, after a moment, 
 he discovered that they were sticking in the tea-caddy, 
 and must have been there safely before he went on his 
 fruitless hunt. 
 
 His aunt's presence he felt to be a relief; and 
 during the rest of breakfast he devoted his conversa- 
 tion, such as it was, chiefly to her. 
 
 Eeata, on the contrary, having recovered her equa- 
 nimity, showed an unusual amount of high spirits, and 
 went on talking with almost feverish gaiety to Mr
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 129 
 
 Fadenhecht, whose humour waxed more radiant every 
 moment, while the friction of his hands grew propor- 
 tionately more violent. 
 
 In spite of the icy answers, barely civil sometimes, 
 which was all Otto vouchsafed to give, he carried on 
 the conversation across the table with imperturbable 
 blandness ; and further, to Otto's infinite disgust, took 
 to calling him " my dear Baron." 
 
 " Only fancy my having overslept myself to-day ! " 
 said Eeata, when breakfast was nearly over. "Just 
 to-day of all days ! " 
 
 "Why just to-day?" Otto could not forbear in- 
 quiring. 
 
 She had caught herself up in her phrase, and now 
 answered impatiently, " Never mind, it is nothing that 
 need concern you. My oversleeping was on a grand 
 scale too," she went on, quickly, "for it was past 
 eight o'clock when 1 awoke." 
 
 " Yes, it was quite that," said Otto, eagerly. " I 
 thought you must be ill when you had not appeared 
 for two hours after your usual time ; and Ficha seemed 
 to think the same, for no supplications or arguments 
 would induce her to abandon her guard in front of 
 your window and come out walking with me." 
 
 " Ah, you don't know the Blossom's character, or 
 you would not have wasted your eloquence in that 
 way ! " 
 
 " Two hours is a long time ta wait, my dear Baron, 
 is it not ? " remarked Mr Fadenhecht, insinuatingly. 
 
 " It depends what you are waiting for," was Otto's 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 "what's in a name?" 
 
 answer ; and then in the next minute Mr Fadenhecht, 
 after indulging in one more wink, and muttering, " Ah 
 yes, what you are waiting for, just so," with an air 
 of intense delight, got up, and declared himself at 
 the ladies' service, mentioning at the same time that 
 he would have to be off in an hour. 
 
 Otto left the room, saying something about not 
 wishing to disturb them, but half expecting to be 
 called back and invited to assist at the conference. 
 'No such summons came, however ; and betaking him- 
 self to the room which served as sitting-room, he threw 
 himself luxuriously on to an ottoman, and prepared to 
 wile away the time by smoking. Having smoked for 
 three minutes he began to find the time heavy, and 
 stretching his hand towards the little bookcase beside 
 him, he pulled out a book, bound in green leather — a 
 worn, faded volume, which had once been handsome. 
 ' Schiller's Balladen ' was printed both on the cover 
 and title-page. On the fly-leaf there was, besides, 
 written in a well-known hand, " To my dearest, beloved 
 cousin Olivia, from her loving cousin Walter Boden- 
 hach. June 1836." 
 
 Thirty-six years ago ! There is something strange 
 in seeing a handwriting so intimately familiar dated 
 so far back, before we were born or thought of. 
 
 "Beloved — loving," mused Otto, inwardly ; and some- 
 how the idea of his old father's attachment did not 
 seem to him half as absurd as it had done three 
 weeks ago. 
 
 He skimmed through the pages : Kampf mit dem
 
 "DEK HANDSCHUH." 131 
 
 Bracken, Taucher, Alpenjdger, Ritter Toggenhurg, — 
 here the page opened more easily, for there was a dried 
 flower, a little sprig of lilac, keeping the place as book- 
 mark, as old as the book, and without a particle of 
 colour or scent remaining about it ; only on the page 
 opposite it had left a deep purplish-green stain, which 
 rendered the first verse almost illegible, and penetrated 
 through the next few leaves. 
 
 He had not read the ballad for years — not since he 
 was a schoolboy ; and it seemed to him as if he were 
 reading it for the first time, so different was the mean- 
 ing it conveyed. 
 
 The opening of the breakfast-room door aroused his 
 attention, and this sound was immediately followed by 
 the departure of Mr Fadenhecht from the house. *In 
 the next second Keata entered the room, and began 
 giving vent to her relief. 
 
 " Thank heaven, that odious man is gone ! " she 
 exclaimed, sitting down on a low stool near the win- 
 dow. " I usually lose my temper with him, but this 
 time I think I managed pretty well." 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said Otto, with a shade of stiff- 
 ness in his voice, at the same time flinging down the 
 open volume of Schiller, face downwards, on the table 
 beside him. 
 
 "What have you got hold of there?" she said, 
 taking it up. " Schiller ! " looking at him with an odd 
 sparkle in her eyes. "Have you been admiring the 
 illustrations? It is a very precious volume, you 
 know."
 
 132 "what's in a name?" 
 
 " I suppose it is," he answered, not quite knowing 
 in what sense this was meant. 
 
 " You must not fling it down in that way," went on 
 Eeata, with the air of admonishing a child; "the 
 Ancient Giraffe dotes upon the book." 
 
 " So I should guess, from the inscription on the fly- 
 leaf I think I have heard of this book before. I 
 fancy it was one of the things which my father sent 
 messages about." 
 
 " Oh, I daresay," answered Eeata, as she turned over 
 the pages. "Your father gave you a great many 
 messages for vour aunt, did he not?" 
 
 "Yes, a good many." 
 
 " It has been a lifelong attachment, then ? " asked 
 Reata, turning over another page, " on his side ? " 
 
 " On both sides, apparently," laughed Otto, lightly. 
 
 "Ah ! you think so ? " She looked up with that same 
 odd sparkle in her eyes. 
 
 " I only judge from appearances." 
 
 "Appearances are very deceitful — very," and she 
 shook her head mysteriously. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he asked, in utter bewilder- 
 ment. "You have just been telling me that she dotes 
 upon this book." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean anything ; I was only thinking 
 how delusive our hopes sometimes are." 
 
 "For instance, those which my father has been 
 cherishing ? " 
 
 "For instance, those which your father has been 
 cherishing."
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH. 133 
 
 " On the subject of my aunt's constancy ? " 
 
 " On the subject of your aunt's constancy," 
 
 " Well, his delusion need not be disturbed. In the 
 eyes of the world she has been constant, since she has 
 remained single all her life." 
 
 Eeata raised her head again quickly, and laughed. 
 "Oh no, there is nothing to prevent him— let him 
 remain deluded." 
 
 " You persist in talking of delusions ? " 
 
 " I persist." 
 
 " But how can that be ? " 
 
 " Don't ask any more questions ; it is not a proper 
 subject for discussion," — she put her finger on her lips. 
 " I have told you too much already." 
 
 " Then I suppose the evidence of that dried lilac is 
 not to be trusted ? " 
 
 " So that is what you call lilac," she said, putting down 
 the book on her knee and examining the bleached 
 flower. " I should like to see a fresh lilac growing." 
 
 " Would you ? We have got lots of them at Stein- 
 biihl," — and Otto thought how much he should enjoy 
 showing them to her. 
 
 " What a stain this one has made ! Look, it has gone 
 right through and made the Ritter's beard purple ! 
 What a figure he looks ! " she went on, holding up, 
 for Otto's criticism, the representation of a distress- 
 ingly meagre elderly hermit, sitting on a bench, the 
 height of which had been considerably overcalculated, 
 even for his lengthy lower limbs, for they hung down 
 limply, terminating in a pair of ponderous extremities,
 
 134 "what's in a name?" 
 
 very like tlie weights of a kitchen clock. His half- 
 open month seemed in immediate expectation of the so- 
 greatly-wanted nourishment, but in reality was meant 
 to express admiration and rapturous attention in the 
 movements of a plain-faced nun who was simpering at 
 him from behind an iron grating. 
 
 "Did you ever see anything half as frightful?" 
 Eeata continued, rubbing the knight's face with her 
 pocket-handkerchief. "Beards are things I have got 
 no patience with." 
 
 "They are very harmless, surely," — and Otto in- 
 stinctively put up his hand, and stroked his beard of 
 six weeks' growth. " Why should men not wear them 
 if it happens to suit them ? " 
 
 " Why sJioidd they wear them, rather ? " she returned, 
 indignantly. " Why should not women always go about 
 with veils over their faces, if it suits them ? A man 
 can be anything under his beard ; and anybody can be 
 good-looking when planted-out in that manner. I am 
 bound to confess, though, that even that has not saved 
 the Eitter. You were reading the ballad, were you 
 not ? How far had you got ? " 
 
 Otto said he had got to the passage where the Eitter 
 is described as covering his noble limbs with hairy 
 garments. 
 
 " I will finish it for you ; may T ? I am particularly 
 fond of reading aloud. 
 
 " ' Blickte nach dem Kloster diiiben, 
 Blickte Stundenlang 
 Nach dem Fenster seiner Lieben, 
 Bis das Fenster klang.
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 135 
 
 Bis die Liebliche sich zeigte, 
 
 Bis das theure Bild 
 Sich ins Thai herunter neigte, 
 
 Kuhig, engelmild. ' " 
 
 " There now ! " Eeata exclaimed, breaking off abrupt- 
 ly; "that is what always makes me angry." 
 
 "Angry at what?" asked Otto,^in some astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why, at this way of going on, making eyes at a 
 man for half a lifetime. Why could she not know her 
 own mind from the beginning, and marry him instead 
 of going into the convent ? " 
 
 " But if she did not care for the man ?" Otto ventured 
 ■to suggest. 
 
 " Then she should have asked her lady- superioress to 
 give her another room at the back of the convent, from 
 which the Eitter could not have seen her. Fancy let- 
 ting that scarecrow of a man goggle up at her window 
 day after day ! What a bad example for the younger 
 nuns ! " 
 
 Otto burst out laughing. 
 
 " You are rather hard on the poet, I think, Fraulein 
 Eeata ; apparently he is not a favourite of yours." 
 
 Eeata looked at him warningly. 
 
 " Please take care, Baron Bodenbach, or you will be 
 asking me whether I like Schiller, in the same way you 
 asked me whether I liked flowers ; and I will have to 
 give you the same answer. You might as well ask me 
 whether I like you. Now you have said a great many 
 stupid things, and some rather good ones. Some of
 
 136 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 Schiller's poems I cannot endure ; while others I could 
 read every day of my life, and never tire of. Look, 
 here on the next page is one of my favourite ones, 
 ' Der Handschuli'" — and Eeata^hegan reading in her 
 clear, vibrating voice. 
 
 She read this far differently, for she was reading con 
 amove ; it was with passion almost that she gave the 
 last verse — 
 
 " Aber mit zcirtlichem LiebesWick — 
 Er verheisst ihm sein nahes Gllick — 
 Empfangt ihn Fraulein Kunigunde. 
 Und er wirft ihr den Handsehuli ins Gesicbt : 
 ' Den Dank, Dame, begehr' ich nicht ! ' 
 Und veiiJisst sie zur selben Stunde." 
 
 " It is splendid ! " said Otto, when she had done ; 
 " but in this instance you have decidedly more right 
 to disapprove of the lady's conduct than you had in 
 the last." 
 
 " But I do not disapprove of it," replied Eeata, clos- 
 ing up the book with a bang, her cheeks still glowing 
 with the excitement of reading ; " I quite enter into her 
 sentiments." 
 
 " You don't mean that seriously, do you ? " 
 
 " I wish you would remember, Baron Bodenbach, 
 that I always mean everything seriously. I do quite 
 agree with Fraulein Kunigunde. How is an unfortu- 
 nate woman to know what a man's love is worth, unless 
 she has tested it ? " 
 
 " But she need not test it in such a violent manner. 
 Supposing he had lost his life in the experiment, what, 
 then, would have been her feelings ? "
 
 "DER HANDSCHUH." 137 
 
 " Oh, in that case she would have bewailed him all 
 her life, and deluged his grave with tears ; at least not 
 exactly grave, for I suppose the poor man would not 
 have had one if he had been eaten up — but something 
 equivalent. Surely that would have been reward 
 enough for him." 
 
 " Eather a sorry sort of reward," remarked Otto, 
 sotto voce ; then aloud, " but surely you would not be 
 as cruel as Kunigunde ? " 
 
 " Why should you call it cruel ? After all, she was 
 risking her own happiness as much as his life. All 
 tests are fair in love. Do you not think so ? " 
 
 " Yes ; all tests are fair in love," acquiesced Otto, a 
 little dreamily, feeling at that moment ready to sub- 
 scribe to any sentiments, however extravagant, as long 
 as they fell from her lips ; and as he watched her face, 
 the thought crossed his mind, that with her uncontrol- 
 led spirit and her strange bringing-up she was not a 
 woman to be turned easily from her end, no matter 
 what the means might be. 
 
 " Then I suppose you think the Knight Delorges an 
 unmannered ruffian for throwing the glove in her face 
 and leaving her ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly that either," she said, reflectively. 
 " I am not angry with him. It was not his fault if 
 the trial was too great for his affection — but I pity 
 him. Now I must go to the Giraffe " — she interrupted 
 herself suddenly — "we have got letters to write, and 
 I find that I am getting into a habit of wasting half 
 my day in talking to you."
 
 138 "what's in a name?" 
 
 She passed him and left the room, and as her quick 
 step went down the passage, he could still hear her 
 declaiming to herself — 
 
 *' Herr Kitter, ist Eure Lieb' so heiss ; 
 "Wie ihr mir's schwort zu jeder Stund, 
 Ei, so hebt mir den Handschuh auf ! " 
 
 "Yes, I think I could have fetched the glove for 
 her," said Otto to himself.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE "MONKEY'S MIEROK." 
 
 Careless of beauty, she was beauty's self. 
 
 " Confound it ! it's enough to drive a fellow dis- 
 tracted, trying to get the effect of those lights through 
 the tree - stems. Before you have time to put •in a 
 wash of yellow, the sky has turned orange, and pur- 
 ple, and green, all in a minute — and your chance is 
 gone." 
 
 They were sitting in the forest, — they two alone. 
 Otto and Eeata — and Otto was putting in the last 
 touches to a sketch he had worked at for some days, 
 the glorious tints of a tropical sunset showing through 
 the foliage and trunks around. 
 
 "Don't do anything more to that grass," said 
 Eeata, who was watching his progress eagerly ; " you 
 have made it nearly too long already, and I shall be 
 tempted to mow it down the way I shaved Eitter 
 Toggenburg this morning." 
 
 Something in this last phrase had given Otto's 
 thoughts another turn ; so after a minute's silence he
 
 140 "what's in a name?" 
 
 said, with what seemed to Eeata an abrupt transition, 
 " By the way, I wanted to ask, is there any place about 
 here where you can get things ? " 
 
 " Get things ! " Eeata echoed, in genuine surprise ; 
 " can't you put your query into a more definite shape ? 
 "What do you mean by get, and what do you mean by 
 things?' Do you mean buying, stealing, or finding? 
 and is it articles of food, dress, or ornament that you 
 require ? " 
 
 " Not exactly any of these," said Otto, with rather 
 an awkward laugh ; " and I fully intend to come by my 
 purchases honestly." 
 
 "Then you mean to buy something," interposed 
 Eeata ; " there is one point settled at least. But under 
 what head does the article come ? " 
 
 "Well, gentlemen's things, you know," explained 
 Otto, vaguely. 
 
 " Then I suppose you mean some especially horrible 
 kind of tobacco, which you can't get on without any 
 longer, and the want of which has been making you 
 silent and absent for the last two days." 
 
 " Have I been silent and absent ? " he inquired, look- 
 ing towards her, where she was sitting ; but he could 
 only see the lower portion of her face, for she had 
 taken Ticha on her lap, and was bending over her, 
 engrossed in plaiting up the woolly hair with fine 
 grasses — a proceeding which bade fair to convert the 
 patient animal, ere long, into a sort of vegetable 
 hedgehog. 
 
 " No, it has nothing to do with smoking ; my wishes
 
 THE "monkey's mirror." 141 
 
 at this moment lie more in the direction of knives than 
 of tobacco." 
 
 " Knives ! Good gracious ! what do you want knives 
 for ? Are you expecting a hand-to-hand fight with the 
 brigands? or are you not satisfied with the cutlery 
 provided in the house? or what? Do please come 
 to the point about this mysterious purchase of yours, 
 which belongs neither to food, dress, nor ornament, but 
 comes under the head of knives." 
 
 " Well, in plain language, I want a razor." 
 
 Reata clapped her hands. 
 
 " A razor ! Then you are going to cut off your 
 beard. I am delighted 1 Just the other day I was 
 wondering what your expression really is like. When 
 will you get it ? To-morrow ? Please do." 
 
 " Where will I get it, is more the question. Is there 
 
 no place nearer than E where such an article can 
 
 be procured ? " 
 
 The fact was, that the casual remark about beards 
 which Reata had made that morning a propos of Ritter 
 Toggenburg, had made a deeper impression on Otto's 
 mind than he would have liked to acknowledge. The 
 very first thing he had done, on reaching his room, had 
 been to scrutinise his face in the glass ; and the con- 
 clusion he came to was, that his beard must be got rid 
 of at once. But then, as he turned instinctively to his 
 dressing-case, a weighty objection presented itself — he 
 had no razors. Only now he remembered the fact that 
 an untimely lurch of the vessel had, in the early part 
 of the voyage, sent his razor-case flying out of Piotr's
 
 142 "WHAT.'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 hand overboard, where with a minute splash it had 
 sunk under the green surface, and probably now lay 
 reposing at the bottom of the ocean, encrusted with 
 corals and pearls, or buried in deep sea- weed. 
 
 The most exasperating thing about the matter was, 
 that Otto was perfectly aware that his features did not 
 need any of that ignominious " planting-out " to which 
 Eeata had referred with such scorn. " A man may be 
 anything under his beard," she had said. " I wonder 
 if she thinks I have got a jawbone like a gorilla ; and 
 if Piotr hadn't been such a precipitate ass, I could have 
 had my beard off now, in the twinkling of an eye." 
 
 However, regretting was no good, nor swearing either, 
 although Otto indulged in some tolerably vigorous 
 language on the subject. For a moment he speculated 
 wildly on the possibility of making his penknife fulfil 
 the office of a razor, but wisely abandoned the idea as 
 unfeasible. He vowed, however, that by fair means 
 or foul he would have a razor before many days were 
 past. 
 
 " Any place nearer than E ? " Eeata repeated, in 
 
 answer to his question ; " well, there is no very civilised 
 place. Up the hills there is no village nearer than 
 thirty miles ; but to the east, over the plateau, there is 
 a small village at fifteen miles' distance, and it may 
 possibly possess a razor or two, although I have no 
 good grounds for believing so.'L 
 
 " A small village at fifteen miles' distance, which 
 may possibly possess a razor or two," repeated Otto, 
 reflectively ; " why, we are more out of the world even
 
 THE "monkey's MIRKOR." 143 
 
 than I thought. Can you give me no more encourage- 
 ment than that, Fraulein Eeata ? " 
 
 " Yes, now I remember, there is a shop in the village; 
 I noticed hammocks and sausages hanging outside. I 
 advise you to try at least ; it is your best chance of 
 getting shaved." 
 
 " I am quite willing to try; but not being an aerial 
 being, there is some difficulty about reaching the place. 
 It is out of walking distance ; how about driving ? 
 Would my aunt consider it too far for her vehicle 
 to go?" 
 
 " Driving ! You don't know what you are talking 
 about ; no wheeled vehicle would ever get there whole. 
 A great part of the way lies along a narrow path 
 through the thick wood." 
 
 " Then there is nothing for it but patience and resig- 
 nation. I suppose riding " 
 
 " Eiding ! yes, that is the very thing," she cried. 
 
 " But won't my aunt " Otto put in, rather dubi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Your aunt ? The Giraffe ? What possible objection 
 could she have ? Of course you shall ride, and I shall 
 go with you to show you the way," continued Eeata, 
 with perfect simplicity. " I have not had a ride since 
 you came, for I never had any one to go with me ; and 
 the Giraffe did not approve of my scouring the country 
 alone." 
 
 "But will she approve of this plan?" he inquired, 
 still doubtfully. 
 
 " What is the use of asking so many questions ? Of
 
 144 ''what's in a name?" 
 
 course she will approve. Oh, it will be delightful ! 
 And we must go to-morrow, for the weather will not 
 hold out much longer like this. There was a frog 
 croaking at my window this morning, and that is the 
 surest sign of rain here ; but you had better not men- 
 tion the frog at all to the Giraffe, it might make her 
 nervous." 
 
 " I will not be fool enough to mention the frog. But 
 how about a side-saddle ? Is there one here ? " 
 
 " Certainly there is not." 
 
 " Can you manage without one ? " 
 
 " Of course. I don't need pommels to keep my 
 balance ; any saddle will do for me. I never rode any 
 other way as a child. For the matter of that, I haven't 
 got a riding-skirt either ; but I will make the Giraffe 
 give me her shawl — that will have to do." 
 
 I*^ow that his first scruples were at rest. Otto was 
 transported into the seventh heaven of happiness at 
 the prospect of a long ride with her, and with her 
 alone. An eager conversation on the subject ensued, 
 and he speedily came to the conclusion that it was a 
 most fortunate chance which had caused Piotr to drop 
 his razors overboard. 
 
 In talking, he took up his sketch-book again and 
 began making a rough study of some broad -leaved 
 creepers which hung down over the branches of a 
 plantain close at hand. Soon he discovered that the 
 creepers were not the real object of his study — that, in 
 fact, they were only serving as a background to a sketch 
 of Eeata's head. The brim of her hat was incon-
 
 THE "monkey's mirror." 145 
 
 veniently broad, and hampered his view of her face ; 
 and besides, unaware as she was of his intentions, she 
 was not by any means immovable. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Fraulein Eeata," he exclaimed, 
 involuntarily, as she turned right round in her position 
 in order to watch a humming-bird on a bush behind 
 her, " do not turn your head in that manner ! I was 
 just getting it right." 
 
 " Why should I not turn my own head, if I choose ? " 
 she began, in surprise ; then, as he pointed to his sketch- 
 book, " you are painting me ? taking my portrait ? But 
 J thought you were doing the creepers." 
 
 "I thought so too," said Otto, penitently; "but I may 
 go on with this, may I not ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose you had better ; but I can't promise 
 to sit very still." 
 
 There was a pause, broken presently by Eeata: 
 *'Why did you say this morning that you will have 
 to be leaving soon ? You never said a word of that 
 before." 
 
 " My leave will soon be expired," he answered, with 
 a sigh. " I had not realised it before ; I can't be very 
 long here." 
 
 " But you have only been ten days." 
 
 "Is it only ten days?" he replied, pausing for a 
 moment in his work. " What a lot of things happen 
 in ten days ! " 
 
 " I can't remember anything particular having hap- 
 pened. Everything, on the contrary, has gone very 
 smoothly — much smoother than I thought it would." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 "what's in a name?" 
 
 " People can get very well acquainted in ten days, I 
 think," he said ; " it seems to me that I have known 
 you all my life." 
 
 " What nonsense you talk ! You don't know me a 
 bit ; you don't know anything about me — not even my 
 name." 
 
 " Oh yes, I know that ; I found it out to-day," he 
 exclaimed triumphantly, looking up at her. She raised 
 her head very quickly, and — was it his fancy? — she 
 seemed to have grown a shade paler, and in her eyes 
 there was the same frightened look he had seen there 
 in the morning. 
 
 " You know my name ? " she said, in a half-alarmed, 
 half-defiant tone. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I do. Why should it surprise you so ? 
 It seems to me more extraordinary that I should have 
 been so long ignorant of it." 
 
 " Tell it me, then ! " she commanded, witli her eyes 
 still upon him. 
 
 " Fraulein Lackenegg." 
 
 Greatly to Otto's surprise, and rather to his dis- 
 comfiture, Eeata broke into one of her rare thrilling 
 laughs. 
 
 "Well, perhaps I did not catch it quite correctly," 
 he said, in a slightly huffed voice ; " I only heard 
 it in a hurry. It may be Tackenegg, or Sackenegg, 
 or Backenegg; but I am sure that is the sound of 
 the name." 
 
 At each attempt Eeata only laughed the more. " No, 
 no, it is all right," she managed to say at last, recover-
 
 THE "monkey's mirror." 147 
 
 ing her gravity; "the first name was right, and I really 
 am very sorry for having laughed. I must beg your 
 pardon ; but you said it in such a comical manner." 
 
 The tears of laughter were in her eyes still as she 
 looked at him across the grassy space which divided 
 them, with half-clasped hands, and a deep colour in her 
 cheek, brought there by her earnestness. How could 
 he not forgive her ! 
 
 Otto felt foolish, and did not know what answer to 
 make. 
 
 " Oh, I am a fool ! " he exclaimed, with extraordinary 
 energy. " Of course it is my fault ; I always make a 
 mess of names." 
 
 "Well, how do you like my name, now that you 
 have heard it ? " she asked, speaking quite gravely, "and 
 bending down over Eicha to give the finishing touches 
 to her herbal decorations. 
 
 " I like your Christian name better," he answered, in 
 a low voice ; " it is the loveliest I have ever heard." 
 
 " Is it really ? " she asked, with true pleasure in her 
 voice. " I am glad you like it ; I am fond of it myself, 
 — it was also my mother's." 
 
 " Then I suppose it is a true Mexican name, for I 
 have never heard it before." 
 
 "No, I daresay not — it is not very common. It 
 is not likely that you should come across a second 
 Eeata." 
 
 " No, most decidedly not ; I know I never shall," he 
 said, with a degree of assurance which surprised her 
 much.
 
 148 "what's in a name?" 
 
 "And do you know what it signifies?" 
 
 " Your name ? Something delightful, I am sure." 
 
 " Nothing very delightful ; nothing about flowers, or 
 birds, or butterflies, as perhaps you supposed." 
 
 "Nothing very horrible then, I hope. It couldn't 
 be ; it is not in the nature of things." 
 
 " Do you know what a lazo ^ is ? " 
 
 " Of course I do ; a thing you catch wild buffaloes 
 with, and antelopes also. I have seen it on pictures 
 dozens of times." 
 
 " What sort of pictures ? " 
 
 " Oh, a lot of men in fantastic costumes, prancing 
 about on horses, and throwing elegant little nooses 
 at gracefully ambling antelopes." 
 
 Keata opened her eyes in surprise, and laughed. 
 " Now, listen ; I am going to tell you what they really 
 are. In reality there are two sorts of lazos. "What is 
 usually called lazo is twisted out of hemp or threads of 
 aloe. The Mexicans use it only for amusement ; and 
 please remember that they do not catch wild buffaloes 
 with it. The true Mexican lazo is twisted out of 
 leather thongs ; it is no plaything, but a terrible 
 arm." 
 
 " And which kind are you ? The plaything, or the 
 terrible arm ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am the dreadful one, of course ; couldn't you 
 have guessed that ? Beata is exclusively the name for 
 the great leather lazo. I assure you, it is no joke for 
 a buffalo to be caught with one of them.'* 
 
 Lasso.
 
 THE "monkey's MIREOR." 149 
 
 "Do, Praulein Eeata, try and keep quiet for five 
 minutes more/' Otto interrupted. "I am just putting 
 in the shades of your hair ; and if you keep shaking it 
 back in that way " 
 
 " By the by, how is my portrait getting on ? I had 
 forgotten all about it." 
 
 " Not very well, I am afraid ; that is to say, not to 
 my satisfaction. You are as difficult to do as the sun- 
 set sky ; always changing." 
 
 "Why? Because I turn orange, and green, and 
 purple, all in a minute ? " 
 
 " No. Because you turn crimson and white, all in a 
 minute." 
 
 " Would you put your hat a trifle back ? " he said, a 
 minute later ; " your eyebrows are so much in shade 
 that I cannot make them out." 
 
 She pushed up her leaf -hat without raising her 
 eyes. " I suppose there will be no difficulty in paint- 
 ing them; they will hardly be getting pointed, and 
 square, and arched, all in a minute." 
 
 " No, but I have got them too arched here ; they 
 look more like Gabrielle's eyebrows than yours." 
 
 "By the by, haven't all members of your family 
 got very fine eyebrows ? I have been told so." 
 
 " I believe they are considered to be rather good,'* 
 answered Otto confidently, wondering within himself 
 whether Eeata had noticed how well-marked his own 
 were. "Arnold has got a most tremendous pair, al- 
 most too thick and bushy, they give him such a 
 severe look."
 
 150 "what's in a name?" 
 
 "Olivia Bodeiibach had beautiful eyebrows, I be- 
 lieve," remarked Eeata, while idly passing her fingers 
 through richa's hair. 
 
 " So I heard from my father ; but she seems to have 
 got rid of them somehow. How has that happened ? " 
 
 " Got rid of them !" Eeata was beginning in surprise. 
 " Good heavens, what have I done ! " she exclaimed, 
 with sudden vehemence, seizing up Ficha at the same 
 moment, and burying her face in the fluffy coat. 
 
 " Fraulein Eeata, what has happened ? " asked Otto, 
 in alarm. "I don't think she can be much hurt. I 
 did not hear her squeal. Shall I come and see?" 
 half rising as he spoke. 
 
 " No, no, please don't," she replied, lifting her face. 
 " It was very foolish of me ; it was only that I got a 
 fright for a minute." 
 
 '' I didn't know that you were so nervous ; you don't 
 often start like that." 
 
 " No, I don't often. It is all right now ; please 
 don't bother me about it. Go on with your painting." 
 
 Otto obeyed. 
 
 " Do you believe in family likenesses ? " Eeata asked, 
 a minute later, after a pause of reflective silence. 
 
 " Of course I do. I am an instance of it myself." 
 
 "Ah yes, to be sure." 
 
 " My family are remarkable for their resemblance to 
 each other — as a rule." 
 
 " Why do you say as a rule ? " 
 
 " Because there are exceptions." 
 
 " Tell me one."
 
 THE "monkey's mirror." 151 
 
 " My aunt, for instance." 
 
 " Yes, the likeness between you and her is not strik- 
 ing, certainly." 
 
 " I hardly think it is " — and Otto smiled quietly to 
 himself as he mentally compared aunt Olivia's wrinkled 
 and ill-cut features with the cast of his own faultless 
 profile. 
 
 "Some relations are very unlike each other — near 
 relations too, — so unlike, that you would never guess 
 them to be connected," remarked Eeata, while a curious 
 smile lurked about the corners of her mouth, and she 
 bent once more over Ficha, putting some of the grass- 
 stalks to rights, and passing her fingers caressingly over 
 the white silky ears. 
 
 " There, White Puppy, you may go ! " 
 
 " So that is the result of your evening's work," said 
 Otto, laughing, as he watched the released and highly- 
 decorated animal stretching its legs complacently. 
 
 " Yes ; and now show me the result of yours," and 
 she put out her hand. " Don't get up ; just throw it 
 over here, and I will examine it while you are putting 
 up your colours." 
 
 He tossed the book, so that it fell by her side. 
 
 " You have not done that very cleverly ; it has got 
 closed, and I shall have to hunt for myself. I am not 
 quite sure whether I shall know my face on paper. 
 This is Steinbiihl, I know, and that Hamburg, and — 
 I hope this is not me — a woman with a large frilled 
 cap. You may have been making a caricature of me 
 the whole time. It was foolish of me to trust you.
 
 152 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Ah, how lovely ! " she exclaimed, as she turned over 
 another page, and she gave an involuntary start. 
 "Who is it, Baron Bodenbach?" as she saw him 
 smiling ; * is it, can it be meant for me ? Ah," she 
 went on, with a shade of disappointment in her voice, 
 " I see you have not been doing my portrait at all ! 
 You have made an ideal head out of it, and only used 
 my features as a foundation." 
 
 The page she had opened showed a sketch of her 
 head, against the background of dark leaves. Fault- 
 less it certainly was not ; but there was character and 
 life in he features — a suggestion of great beauty, if 
 not the perfect rendering of it. Otto had succeeded in 
 giving the expression — that is, one of the hundred 
 expressions of the lovely face before him. 
 
 "It is as like as I can make it," he replied, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 "Nonsense!" she said, impatiently. "Of course, I 
 know that I am fairly good-looking ; but this is quite 
 another thing." 
 
 To this he made no answer. 
 
 "Don't you think I am fairly good-looking?" she 
 said again, with a little stamp of her foot. 
 
 She looked up for his answer, openly, innocently, 
 without a shade of affectation or coquetry, but per- 
 haps with just a passing feeling of childish vanity. 
 And then she met his gaze of ardent, undisguised 
 admiration, fixed full upon herj and all at once 
 she understood. 
 
 Her eyes fell before his with a consciousness he had
 
 THE "monkey's MIRROK." 153 
 
 never seen there before. The crimson tide rose and 
 rushed over neck, cheek, and forehead, suffusing the 
 delicate skin with colour up to the very hair -roots. 
 She put up her hand to her face, as if to check the 
 tell-tale red ; and in the next moment, before he had 
 time to speak or know what she was doing, she had 
 risen to her feet, and was gone past him into the 
 forest — flying as if from a danger. 
 
 Otto began several exclamations, and did not finish 
 any, as he sat staring in amazement; but the trees 
 hid her in a moment. He could only hear the fast 
 receding bark of Ficha, who, wildly excited at this 
 unexpected move of her mistress's, had given chase, 
 evidently thinking that something out of the common 
 was in the wind. 
 
 Eeata fled through the forest, hardly knowing why 
 or from what she was running, and with no other 
 object than that of getting to the house quickly, and 
 shutting herself up in her room. 
 
 She ran till she was breathless; and then, as her 
 pace slackened, an idea seemed to strike her, for she 
 turned rapidly aside and went still deeper into the 
 depth of the trees. She had a distinct object in view 
 now ; she wanted to reach the pool which she called 
 the " Monkey's Mirror." 
 
 On the moss beside it she knelt down and looked 
 with eager eyes into its cool depths. Together with 
 branches and flowers, it sent back to her her warm, 
 bright beauty in all its radiance ; and for the first 
 time she saw herself with different eyes.
 
 154 "what's in a name?" 
 
 "Yes, it is the same face as in the picture," she 
 murmured, bending down very low over the glassy, 
 unruffled surface. 
 
 " I am beautiful ! How could I not see it before ! 
 I read it so clearly in his eyes when he looked at me 
 now" — and at the very recollection, alone as she was 
 in the forest, the blood shot to her cheek again. 
 
 She put up her hands, and began hurriedly undoing 
 her plaits, first one and then the other, and shook 
 down the waves of dark hair over her shoulders ; and 
 then she bent forward again, till the dusky fringes 
 trailed in the water, smiling at her own image, almost 
 laughing with pleasure as she drank in each separate 
 line of feature and form. 
 
 "With the instinct just born within her, she pushed 
 up her sleeve, and gazed with loving vanity at the 
 perfectly-shaped round white arm, wondering whether 
 most women had round white arms like that. 
 
 " Yes, I am beautiful," she repeated, with an almost 
 defiant inflection of her voice, as she met the gaze of 
 another pair of eyes, belonging to a hideous animal of 
 the lizard tribe, speaking as if daring it to contradict 
 her assertion. The animal, squatting on a stone along- 
 side, had been eyeing her proceedings with a mistrust- 
 ful look. Apparently it lacked inclination or courage 
 to accept the challenge; for, turning tail, it scuttled 
 away in the grass in a crestfallen manner. 
 
 There are few women who reach the age of twenty- 
 one without discovering the full worth of whatever 
 charms they may happen to possess. On most, the
 
 THE "MONKEYS MIKEOR. 155 
 
 sense of it grows gradually, in proportion to the en- 
 couragement their vanity receives from their outer 
 world. On some few it comes as a revelation — like 
 a lightning-flash, which shows them their power. Of 
 these, again, some have gained their beauty by degrees, 
 unconsciously to themselves and perhaps unnoticed 
 by others ; while some women, who have always been 
 in possession of perfect loveliness, are in ignorance 
 of the truth — and this not through defect of intel- 
 lect, but merely through the force of circumstances. 
 The mere habit of the thing, the bare fact of daily 
 beholding in the glass the same outlines of beauty, 
 will cause people of a certain character to under- 
 value or ignore their gifts. 
 
 Such was Eeata's case. She had spoken perfect 
 truth when she said that she considered herself to 
 be fairly good-looking. 
 
 Most undoubtedly she would have discovered her 
 advantages sooner had she mixed in society ; but from 
 her great isolation, and even more peculiar circum- 
 stances of her life, she had never been in the position 
 either to test her power over men, or to gauge her fair- 
 ness against that of other women. I will not attempt 
 to affirm that Eeata was more innocent of the germs 
 of vanity than the greatest part of her fellow-sisters ; 
 but as yet these germs had lain dormant, and it re- 
 mained to be seen what effect this new element would 
 have on her life — whether the knowledge to which her 
 eyes had been opened would brush the first bloom of 
 freshness off her heart.
 
 156 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Her perceptions, once awakened, were keen ; and 
 now that her mind was turned upon this subject, it 
 travelled with extraordinary rapidity. That one un- 
 guarded look of Otto's had told her much. Till that 
 moment, from the very consciousness of his own 
 weakness, he had been more prudent than was his 
 wont, and had kept his secret unbetrayed. Of 
 course there had been moments in the last ten days 
 when any one less novice than this girl was, would 
 have guessed ^t his feelings; but to her those mo- 
 ments had told nothing. The thing was so new, so 
 totally unexampled in her experience, that no perplex- 
 ing thought had ever risen within her. 
 
 She had fondled her newly-found beauty as a child 
 does a plaything ; and now she sat quite still, slowly 
 putting back her hair into its tresses. Meanwhile her 
 thoughts were busily following up one train. Otto's 
 admiration was manifest ; but then — what more ? 
 
 She had never read a novel ; and all her idea of 
 love was gathered from a very limited selection of old- 
 fashioned German poetry. What was the expression 
 in his eyes which had so startled her ? Did all men 
 always look at pretty women in that way ? Or was 
 it, perhaps, what was called Love ? Did Eitters 
 Delorges and Toggenburg look respectively at Kuni- 
 gunde and the nameless nun in that fashion ? " And 
 did they feel as frightened as I did, and run away and 
 make fools of themselves in the same way, I wonder ? " 
 she pursued her meditations. 
 
 She had done plaiting up her hair, and, with her
 
 THE "MONKEYS MIRROR. 157 
 
 hands in her lap, sat, her eyes still on the pool, though 
 now it was too dark to see any reflection. 
 
 Yes, slie thought she could understand his look 
 now. '' And I ? " she questioned herself, with sudden 
 curiosity. In words there came no reply ; but for long 
 she remained sitting, immovable as she was, still 
 looking at the shadowy pool, as if expecting to read 
 her answer there. 
 
 How long she would have remained thus I do not 
 know ; but a gentle weight on her sleeve roused her — 
 something between a scratch and a pull. Ficha, one 
 fore-paw extended, was gazing with intense pathos into 
 his mistress's face — with eyes that said, as plainly as 
 eyes could say, 
 
 " COME HOME ! '•
 
 158 
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 ALARMED. 
 
 No insurmountable objections having been raised by- 
 aunt Olivia, and the frog having been successfully 
 hushed up, Eeata and Otto, soon after sunrise, were 
 started on their expedition. They rode in silence for 
 some time, — Eeata apparently intent upon guiding her 
 steed among the scraggy brushwood of the bank, which 
 sloped down on to the plain ; Otto in his mind attempt- 
 ing to analyse the change that had come over Eeata 
 since last night. It was nothing very palpable or 
 definite ; but still there was a change, and a change 
 which he was puzzled to define. In some measure he 
 connected it with the way she had so suddenly left 
 him in the forest yesterday: but his mind was not 
 clear on this point ; he was not able to follow all the 
 workings which hers had undergone. That she had 
 been startled, he could not fail to perceive ; and in the 
 first moment of his astonishment, accused himself of 
 having offended, or in some way hurt, her feelings. 
 But her manner when they met at once convinced him
 
 ALARMED. 159 
 
 that this was not the case. There was no shade of 
 coldness in it ; but rather it was a change from gay to 
 grave, from unrestraint to reserve. On meeting him in 
 the breakfast-room she had proffered her hand with a 
 certain timidity quite new in her. They had not been 
 alone yet since ; but even had they so been, Otto would 
 have forborne questioning her on the subject. He con- 
 fessed to himself that he did not know what to make 
 of it, but likewise acknowledged that he would prob- 
 ably make something bad of it if he attempted to 
 meddle. 
 
 Yesterday Keata had been all eagerness about this 
 ride, which she herself had planned. To-day there 
 was a sort of shrinking, although no reluctance, in her 
 way of alluding to it. She seemed content to take no 
 more than a passive part, leaving all arrangements 'to 
 him, as if glad of his guidance ; and this laying-off of 
 her usual independence was in Otto's eyes an additional 
 charm. 
 
 Reata's horse, which had been selected from the 
 horse-paddock more with a view to use than to beauty, 
 was a heavily but well built animal, answering to the 
 name of Solomon. In height fifteen-two, with legs 
 like pillars, looking up to any amount of work, but not 
 over-eager for it. 
 
 Neither horse nor dress was calculated to show her 
 off to particular advantage ; for it would be useless to 
 deny that aunt Olivia's cashmere shawl, which had 
 been converted into an impromptu riding-skirt, had 
 anything very fascinating about it when viewed in
 
 leo " what's in a name ? " 
 
 that capacity. Fortunately, however, Eeata's looks did 
 not depend upon dress. 
 
 The roan mare which Otto rode was, as he himself 
 had seen at the first glance, by far the most valuable 
 amongst Miss Bodenbach's horses. He had kept his 
 eye upon her ever since, and never passed the pad- 
 dock or stables without casting an admiring look at 
 his favourite. Maraquita was rather above the usual 
 height of the true Mexican breed, to which she be- 
 longed ; perfect in temperament and paces, and beau- 
 tiful in build — the very ideal of a soldier's charger. 
 Miss Bodenbach had had the horse only for a few 
 months in her possession ; and judging from what he 
 had seen of his aunt's knowledge of horse-flesh, Otto 
 doubted not that it was the merest chance which 
 had brought such an irreproachable animal into her 
 possession. 
 
 A small imp -like being, in wide linen trowsers, 
 perched on the bare back of a gaunt chestnut, brought 
 up the rear, acting as groom and provision-carrier to 
 the party. A more ludicrous pair could hardly have 
 been found. It would have been difficult to form a 
 correct conjecture as to what the boy's age might be ; 
 for while in stature he looked about ten, his wizened 
 features gave him the appearance of at least another 
 ten years, and there was a set look about his short 
 frame. 
 
 Don Eamirez, his steed, being conspicuous in many 
 ways, deserves more than a passing notice. A gaunt, 
 ungainly chestnut, standing full seventeen hands ;
 
 ALARMED. 161 
 
 three immense white stockings, and a large white lan- 
 tern on his face. A flavour of thorough-breeding per- 
 vaded his bony frame, and something in his appearance 
 suggested broken-down gentility, if not fallen grandeur. 
 From what particular point of grandeur he had fallen 
 was unknown, for nobody on record had ever seen 
 him look otherwise ; and there was a tradition extant, 
 that even in Don Eamirez's best days a close observer 
 could easily count his ribs. The pompous name of 
 Don Eamirez was his original appellation ; but Eeata 
 had caused it to be changed into the more vulgar title 
 of " the Bony One," and as such he was generally 
 known. There was a certain dignity about him, a 
 remnant of better days ; and the free and easy com- 
 portment which the boy Ortega invariably indulged 
 in when on his back seemed to offend his finer senses. 
 Earely did Ortega persevere for more than three 
 minutes in the position which rational beings adopt 
 on horseback. When Eeata's back was safely turned 
 he would rapidly make a change of posture, and seek 
 to ease his limbs either by kneeling, sitting sideways, 
 or with his face towards Don Eamirez's tail ; or if he 
 thought the moment particularly favourable, would 
 rise to his feet and perform the semblance of a war- 
 dance. 
 
 After a quarter of an hour of careful stepping they 
 emerged on to flat ground, and setting their horses' 
 heads right across the plain, began a brisk trot, which 
 brought them well out into the open. Otto, seeing that 
 there was no danger of Eeata losing her seat with Solo- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 "what's in a name?" 
 
 mon's smooth swinging paces, proposed a canter, which 
 she eagerly acquiesced in. 
 
 The cool breeze which tempered the heat to-day 
 made the forenoon especially agreeable for riding, and 
 the clouds which lightly veiled the sun, although they 
 robbed the plain of its usual brilliancy of aspect, were 
 far pleasanter than the scorching rays. 
 
 Away the cavalcade bore : the roan mare leading, 
 snorting, and passionately tossing her head ; Solomon 
 plunging on half a length behind ; the rear brought up 
 by '' the Bony One," his head very high up ; while 
 Ortega, balancing the provision - basket with great 
 nicety on his head, further diversified the aspect of the 
 party by swinging his two arms alternately round in 
 their sockets, like a windmill suddenly gone mad. 
 
 On they sped, over the unbroken level of the prairie 
 grass, most glorious expanse of riding-ground — smooth 
 and elastic, free of deceitful molehills, and innocent of 
 those little patches of swamp which sometimes neu- 
 tralise the finest stretches of land. To the right, the 
 line of bank and wood ; a mass of low shrubs piled at 
 the foot; little bushes with dense dull grey foliage, 
 the leaves hard and stiff; higher up the groups of 
 agaves and cactuses, their outline broken here and 
 there sharply by the lofty head of a palm-tree. Across 
 the plain, to the left, the same thing repeated, only 
 seen more dimly, topped by the blueness of the hills ; 
 and at the far, far end, straight in front, the same green 
 and faint blue lines just visible, with the clouds hover- 
 ing above.
 
 ALARMED. 163 
 
 AVhatever slmde of constraint Eeata had felt at first, 
 vanished during that gallop ; and when at length they 
 drew up, and allowed the steaming horses to recover 
 breath, it was with all her usual outspoken frankness 
 of manner that she exclaimed, " Was not that heavenly ! 
 I don't think I have enjoyed anything so much for 
 ages ! " 
 
 The discovery of her own beauty, which last night 
 had so startled her, was forgotten now; or rather 
 she had accepted it as a fact, and with wonderful 
 rapidity got accustomed to the idea. Hers was not 
 the sort of nature on which such a discovery would 
 act oppressively, or^ tend to make self-conscious for 
 any length of time. She bore her honours lightly, 
 gracefully, as if she had known them for years ;• and 
 although, like a true woman, she rejoiced with all 
 her heart at her treasure, she did not turn her 
 thoughts to considering the best means of drawing 
 profit from it. 
 
 As she slackened reins, and patted her horse's neck 
 approvingly, Eeata cast a stolen glance at Otto. Never 
 had he appeared before her to such advantage ; never 
 before had she been so struck with his good looks and 
 graceful figure. " Of course that comes from his being 
 a cavalry soldier," she decided in her mind ; " a cavalry 
 soldier must always look better on horseback than 
 off." 
 
 And she really believed this as she said it to herself. 
 It never once occurred to her, that had she passed the 
 day with him as usual in the house, or in the forest,
 
 164 "what's in a name?" 
 
 this day would not have been quite as other days — that 
 she would have looked at him with a new attention, 
 and considered him in a different light. She was 
 aware of a change in herself since yesterday, but she 
 was not aware of all its effects. 
 
 In her eyes Otto's riding was the very ideal of the 
 noble art. Mexicans belong to the wildest riders 
 under the sun ; they are positively heedless of danger. 
 Eeata, with Mexican blood in her veins, would have 
 scorned the idea of a man who showed anything but 
 the most reckless coolness on horseback. 
 
 If Eeata's thoughts were at this moment tinged with 
 a feeling of admiration she had never been aware of 
 before, Otto's were just then little short of adoration. 
 He had many times heard of the great prowess of the 
 fair Mexicans as riders, but he had never believed it 
 possible that a woman riding a lady's seat on a man's 
 hunting-saddle, and not in the constant habit of it, 
 could maintain herself with such faultless equilibrium 
 during a hard gallop of ten minutes. (Eeata was riding, 
 as all Mexicans do, on the right-hand side of the horse.) 
 
 They had another long canter after that ; for it was 
 necessary to gain ground while they could, as their way 
 later lay along a steep path in the hills. When the}'' 
 drew rein this time, the green and blue lines which 
 bounded the extremity of the plain were much nearer. 
 Palm-trees and plantains detached themselves singly 
 or in groups from the darker background, and the low 
 prickly masses of the Syngenists could be distinguished 
 like a bulwark at the foot. On all sides the fantastic
 
 ALAKMED. 165 
 
 cactuses waved their spiny arms high up in the air. 
 Sometimes they were monstrous boas, reared a hundred 
 feet from the ground ; at other times they crawled and 
 twisted like bristly reptiles on the earth : the dead 
 and the living growing together in one inseparable 
 mass ; the living green, juicy, and vigorous — the dead 
 white, dry, and rustling, thrusting in their withered 
 skeletons between the ranks of their successors. 
 
 Abreast of the riders, peacefully grazing or lying on 
 the grass, was a herd of white horses; their colour 
 throughout uniform, modified only by age, and descend- 
 ing from the dead white of the aged animals to the 
 grey shading on the coats of the frisky foals, who gam- 
 boled about at their ease by the side of the mothers, 
 and under their parent's watchful eye. Otto was inter- 
 ested by the sight, and drew nearer for a closer view. 
 The riding-horses neighed frantically, and the greys 
 answered in a chorus. Some of the youngest and most 
 foolish amongst the foals came trotting up, followed at 
 a distance by their more prudent but anxious mothers, 
 and with elongated neck and glistening eyes, snuffed 
 and flared inquisitively at the strangers. On Ortega's 
 spirits, the spectacle of the horses had the effect of a 
 strong and sudden stimulant. His ideas of the dig- 
 nity of a groom's deportment, when accompanying a 
 lady and gentleman on horseback, vague and undefined 
 as they had been before, entirely collapsed now. He 
 got to his feet, to Don Eamirez's openly-expressed in- 
 dignation, and hallooed loudly to the herders — they an- 
 swering with a peculiar wild cry, used as a signal on
 
 166 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the plains. Eeata's vehement remonstrances, given in 
 Spanish, were insufficient to calm him down, and it 
 needed a few strong German phrases from Otto, which, 
 although incomprehensible, acted as a sedative. He 
 caught up the spirit of the thing, if not the letter, and 
 humbly explained that the horse-shepherds were his 
 amigos intimos. When they had trotted clear of the 
 greys, they looked back and saw the little foals kick 
 up their heels and go careering back to their mothers' 
 sides, where they stood with ears erect, watching with 
 quivering excitement the progress of the riders — a 
 mixture of youthful frivolity and filial obedience. 
 
 The site of S was unprepossessing in the extreme. 
 
 It was a wonder how, in a picturesque country, it had 
 managed to get itself built in such an unpicturesque 
 spot : the houses all crowded up near together, lean- 
 ing totteringly against each other, as if for support ; 
 and the bare hillside, with the oxen grazing on it, 
 rising steep above the roofs. Vegetation was dwarfed 
 and scanty ; the luxuriant trees and juicy herbage of 
 the forest had retired here, and made way to an arid, 
 stony ground, not unlike the grand desolation of the 
 Karst. The shallow valley, which lay so high up in 
 the hills, was open to the cold sweep of the north and 
 east winds, which, meeting with no opposition, blew 
 mercilessly over the palm-covered huts. 
 
 Ortega was sent on to reconnoitre ; and by the time 
 they got up to him, the whole population had collected, 
 and formed a dense circle round " the Bony One." 
 Ortega was carrying on conversation with everybody
 
 ALARMED. 167 
 
 at once, and the result was a shrill and deafening 
 noise ; but at the sight of two new and greater objects 
 of interest, sudden silence came over the multitude. 
 Every tongue was hushed, and all eyes fixed with awe 
 and admiration on the ponderous folds of aunt Olivia's 
 cashmere shawl. Never before had riding-habit been 
 crowned with such success. It was, in half-audible 
 whispers, pronounced to be of a regal splendour, and 
 worthy of a queen. Eeata, being well-used to the 
 habits of her country-people, took both the curiosity 
 and the admiration with perfect composure, and with 
 Otto's aid dismounted. Solomon's reins were thrown 
 to Ortega ; and Eeata saying something in an impera- 
 tive tone in Spanish, to the effect that somebody was 
 to hold the third horse, there was a wild rush of all the 
 male members of the community, which ended in the 
 roan being fought for by half-a-dozen pairs of brawny 
 arms. The excitement threatened to terminate in a 
 regular fight, as the slightest cause will provoke in 
 Mexico ; but some expressive motions of Otto's riding- 
 whip caused most of the combatants to retire. A tall 
 swarthy fellow, with a battered straw hat, a dark red 
 scarf round his waist, and an evil-looking scowl on his 
 face, who had been among the hottest of the candi- 
 dates, stepped back, muttering some fearful-sounding 
 Spanish oaths between his teeth, and throwing an en- 
 raged glance at the lad who had got possession of the 
 reins, and a vindictive one at Otto. 
 
 Whenever a rare chance did bring a stranger to 
 S , it could only be with the object of visiting th^
 
 168 "WHATS IN A NAME? 
 
 shop. The inhabitants well knew this ; and instinc- 
 tively they now led the way towards their proudest 
 building — the tienda of the place. Seiior Ambrosino, 
 the apothecary, landlord, cook, barber, and general 
 
 dealer of S , being already forewarned of what was 
 
 in store for him, stood at the door of his house, bowing 
 to the ground, and repeating protestations of respect 
 and of his willingness to perform any service that 
 could be named. 
 
 " Does el suo Seiiorio wish to be bled, hacios la manos 
 de Yd to dine, or to have his hair cut ? " he began, in 
 the most affable manner ; " or does the Senorita desire 
 to see my silk handkerchiefs or Guayaquil hats, servi- 
 dor de Vd ? I have some excellent — bacios la manos de 
 Vd — mescal in bottles, and some first-rate fresh leeches 
 which could be applied in a moment, servidor de Vd; no 
 trouble and moderate charge, — or if that does not suit, 
 will el suo Senorio name whatever article is required? " 
 
 Without many preliminaries the errand was ex- 
 plained ; but at the mention of razors, Seiior Ambros- 
 ino's face clouded over. 
 
 " Garamha ! " he exclaimed, adopting an attitude of 
 theatrical despair, " how unfortunate ! If you had 
 asked me for fever-pills or mantillas (such splendid 
 ones as I have, embroidered with parrots and palm- 
 trees ! ) — if you had called upon me to draw a tooth or 
 boil you a mango, I should have rejoiced in the happi- 
 ness of serving you. But a razor ! — one of the only 
 two on which I subsist as a barber ! — imj9ossible 1 " and 
 digging his hands deep down into the pockets of his
 
 ALARMED. 169 
 
 linen trousers, the worthy shopman planted his back 
 against the wall in dejected resignation. 
 
 " Then we may as well go home again, I suppose," 
 said Otto, turning to Eeata and speaking with a bad 
 assumption of indifference. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she replied, coolly ; " don't you see 
 that he is dying to sell you a razor ? " 
 
 " But if he denies having any for sale ? " asked Otto, 
 unable to perceive any signs of this ardent wish. 
 
 ** If el suo Senorio will be so kind as to take place," 
 began Ambrosino, in a depressed tone of voice, "I 
 will be happy to take off his beard, or his hair, or both, 
 in a minute, hacios la manos cle Vd : no trouble, and 
 moderate charge." 
 
 This obliging offer being declined most decidedly, 
 Senor Ambrosino's spirits sank to a point which was 
 almost melancholy. 
 
 " If that does not suit, then I am at a loss how to 
 oblige el suo Senorio ; I, Ambrosino, who have never 
 been at a loss before — not even when I was asked 
 to make a peruke out of a buffalo's tail. Such a 
 splendid peruke as it was ! But sell a razor I my 
 only means of living ! take the bread out of my own 
 mouth ! — impossible ! " 
 
 " How much will you take for it ? " was the only 
 rejoinder Eeata made. 
 
 "Sixty 'pesetas,'' replied Senor Ambrosino, with a 
 lugubrious sigh. 
 
 " Give him thirty," said Eeata in German to Otto, 
 leaning back on her bench.
 
 170 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 Senor Ambrosino looked at the money which Otto 
 tossed on to the rough-hewn table serving as counter, 
 with a funereal air, but without a word. The thirty 
 pesetas once distinctly before his eyes, the elasticity of 
 his spirits returned, as if by magic. He produced a 
 broken box, containing two razors, from which he care- 
 fully selected the worst ; and with immense courtesy 
 of speech, and salutations worthy of an ambassador, he 
 handed it over to Otto. 
 
 Outside the door, under a little morsel of projecting 
 roof, there v/as a rickety table and a couple of stools ; 
 and here, in sight of the admiring inhabitants, the pro- 
 vision-basket was opened, and they ate their frugal 
 repast. It was like a dinner in a play. Every action 
 and movement could not have been considered with 
 more attention had they been actors on the stage ; and 
 certainly every morsel which they carried to their 
 mouths would not have been followed with such deep 
 and breathless attention. 
 
 " Madre de Dios, what a fringe ! " exclaimed a fine- 
 looking woman, who had pushed boldly to the very 
 front of the row, pointing to the shawl, which Eeata 
 had flung over the palisade. " It is twisted as thick 
 as young coralillos." ^ 
 
 " Caramba I yes, a splendid garment ! " echoed a 
 repulsive old crone, bent double over her stick. " Fine 
 taste the Senorita has, mrdaderamente. A handsome 
 shawl she has chosen, and a still handsomer esposo,^ 
 
 ^ The coral-coloured snake. ^ Husband.
 
 ALARMED. l7l 
 
 hi, lii, hi ! They make a fine couple. Where did she 
 pick him up, I wonder ? She must have been clever 
 about it, for by his white skin he is no Mexican, hi, 
 hi, hi ! " she tittered shrilly. And the girls alongside 
 began pushing each other and giggling, while some of 
 the men laughed loud and coarsely. 
 
 The last speakers had been so near that Eeata's 
 quick ears had caught every word. She grew scarlet, 
 and bit her lip ; and, with a nervous dread of what 
 the effect might be on Otto, she glanced instinctively 
 at him. His unconcerned expression reminded her 
 reassuringly that the remarks, made in Spanish, had 
 "feeen to him unintelligible. Nevertheless she felt that 
 her position was getting awkward. Not a moment 
 longer would she stay there. All her innocent pleasure 
 in the expedition was gone. It was the first time* that 
 she was brought in face of the unpleasant consequences 
 which the slightest imprudence is attended with in 
 this world ; and she condemned her conduct bitterly, 
 as unpardonably foolish. Her own simplicity pro- 
 voked her ; it was nothing less than inconceivable 
 idiotcy, she thought. How could she have been so 
 simple as to go on an expedition of this sort, a long 
 day's ride alone with Otto, alone with any man ? It 
 was in her nature to rush to extreme conclusions ; and 
 at this moment she doubted not that Otto must think 
 her either very stupid or else very light-headed. 
 
 Being thoroughly put out with herself, she, woman- 
 like, vented her humour upon the man who was un- 
 wittingly the cause of her embarrassment.
 
 172 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 " I don't know why we are sitting so long here ! " 
 she exclaimed, rising so abruptly as to upset the three- 
 legged stool she had been sitting on. "I am not in 
 the least hungry; it is enough to take away one's 
 appetite, to be stared at like wild beasts at a show. If 
 you are done, Baron Bodenbach, I think we had better 
 be going." 
 
 "I am quite ready," answered Otto, saying what 
 was not true ; for he had not half satisfied the fine 
 appetite engendered by his ride. 
 
 In reply to Senor Ambrosino's flowery sentences, 
 his profound reverences, and humble cravings for 
 further ilustrefdvor, Eeata only deigned to give a short 
 adios and a very slight nod ; and then, having settled 
 her shawl again, she walked quickly up the street, and 
 called peremptorily to Ortega to lead up the horses. 
 She had not minded the crowd before ; but now the 
 sight of all those faces around was hateful. She felt 
 their eyes fastened on her with gaping curiosity ; and 
 in the front row she caught sight of the odious crooked 
 hag talking in eager whispers to the women near her. 
 There was almost reluctance in the way she allowed 
 Otto to help her into the saddle ; gladly would she 
 have dispensed with his assistance entirely, had she 
 been able to do without it. As it was, her nerves 
 were off their usual balance ; she slipped back the 
 first time almost into his arms, which put the climax 
 to her ill-humour and to the interest of the crowd. 
 Once safely in the saddle, she did not wait a second, 
 but started off briskly, scattering the urchins, who had
 
 ALARMED. 173 
 
 been unprepared for such a hasty exit, and leaving Otto 
 to follow as best he could. 
 
 A universal cheer, half ironical, half encouraging, 
 followed the party ; and then in the next minute they 
 were out of hearing — alone in the silent valley. 
 
 "Within the last hour the sky had grown leaden and 
 heavy ; but not a breath was stirring the air. The bad 
 weather was coming, with less warning than it usually 
 gave. They might not reach home dry. 
 
 Otto said as much to Reata, when he was by her 
 side, and also that it would be advisable, bad as the 
 road was, to keep on trotting, if she did not think that 
 the fatigue would be too great for her. He had been 
 no less surprised at her sudden departure than the 
 
 inhabitants of S , and putting spurs to Maraqwita, 
 
 had soon overtaken Solomon with his steady but pon- 
 derous gait. 
 
 "Yes: we had decidedly better push on," Eeata 
 said, in answer to his apprehensions about the weather. 
 " I wish we were at home again ! I am sick of the 
 whole concern. It was very foolish of us to start on 
 this expedition, when we knew that the rain could not 
 be far off." 
 
 "But surely we cannot lay the whole blame on 
 our imprudence? This change has come with un- 
 expected suddenness. You said yesterday that the 
 clouds gather for two days, as a rule, before the wet 
 sets in." 
 
 " Did I ? Then I have got wiser since yesterday," 
 was her reply, given almost sharply. " At any rate,
 
 174 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 there is no use disputing ; let us get on, for heaven's 
 sake ! Ortega, I insist on your sitting quietly, not 
 dangling your legs like that, round " the Bony One's " 
 neck; do you hear? And see that you keep close 
 behind us." 
 
 "Are you sure that trotting will not tire you too 
 much?" Otto asked, anxiously. "The path is very 
 rough, and you will be dreadfully shaken." 
 
 "But you have just said that it is our best course, 
 and you knew that the path was rough ; and besides," 
 she added, coldly, " you need not be disquieted on my 
 account ; I am not likely to get tired on horseback." 
 
 They proceeded at a steady pace along the track, 
 intent on picking their way over the broken ground ; 
 and silent, not only on this account, but because Otto, 
 finding that all his attempts at conversation had failed 
 most deplorably, had given them up. 
 
 Their path led them first down the treeless hollow, 
 then into the shadow of the forest, where they had to 
 ride single file — Otto at the head, and "the Bony One " 
 bringing up the rear. For a full hour the road re- 
 mained the same, requiring attention at every step, 
 and necessitating a sharp look-out ahead, in order to 
 avoid holes, and the numberless tree-roots which strag- 
 gled across at every moment. 
 
 It was a monotonous part of the forest, with none 
 of the mixed character which tropical forests usually 
 present. Cotton-trees were here the exclusive tenants 
 of the ground; the riders had but an endless vista 
 of thin stems standing straight and stiff, stretching o
 
 ALAEMED. 175 
 
 away on all sides. High above them, in the crown 
 of branches at the summit, there was the unbroken 
 buzzing sound of the wild bees, humming softly over 
 their nests. But even this was monotonous ; and down 
 below there was nothing to break the quiet, save when 
 a ripe fruit came down with a thump on the hard 
 sward. 
 
 In spite of her proud protestations, Eeata, before 
 they had gone far, began to acknowledge to herself 
 that she had overtaxed her strength. Not having felt 
 the slightest fatigue in the morning, she thought that 
 she never would get tired. But galloping over an even 
 plain, and this sort of continued jogging, together with 
 the strain laid upon the attention, was a very different 
 thing. She thought with dread of the way still before 
 her ; for although now close upon the end of the forest, 
 yet there was a long expanse of marsh between them 
 and the plain, and to circumvent it would take as long 
 as the way they had come. But the thought of ac- 
 knowledging her fatigue, and thus gaining the rest she 
 longed for, she repudiated with scorn. It was not only 
 that she prided herself on her untiring strength in 
 equestrian exercise, but how could she now demean 
 herself before the man whose anxiety on her account 
 she had treated so disparagingly? 
 
 At last the cotton-trees were left in the rear, and 
 now there lay before them a clear space which they 
 would have to cross before entering on the path among 
 the tall bushes to the left — the only practicable road 
 to the plain.
 
 176 "what's in a name?" 
 
 As soon as they were out of the shadow of the trees, 
 they perceived the figure of a man sitting at the foot 
 of a wild-pear bush. He raised his head at the sound 
 of their horses' hoofs, and while they approached kept 
 his eyes fixed on them with an intent stare. 
 
 He had a heavy red sash tied round his waist, and 
 an evil scowl on his face ; and, moreover, there was 
 something stuck in his waistband — something that 
 had not been there before, when they had seen this 
 man in the village — something that shone like well- 
 polished metal. When they had got a dozen paces 
 nearer, Otto saw that it was a pair of pistols. 
 
 The man kept his eyes fixed on them as they passed 
 him close, and when they looked back at him he 
 was still in the same position — still bending forward 
 eagerly, with his face towards them. 
 
 " I did not notice before that that fellow carried 
 pistols," Otto remarked, when the bushes had hidden 
 the man from view. 
 
 '' I know he had none," she answered. 
 
 " Upon my word, it looks almost as if he had been 
 waiting for us," said Otto, laughing, but with a shade 
 of real anxiety in his tone ; then, as he suddenly per- 
 ceived the paleness of her face, and attributing it to 
 her nervousness, " there is not the slightest cause for 
 alarm, Fraulein Eeata. Although we have not got any 
 arms with us, remember that we are mounted, and 
 that scoundrel is on foot. It is quite impossible that 
 he should overtake us." 
 
 " I am not afraid," she answered, throwing back her
 
 ALARMED. 177 
 
 head haughtily ; " but for the matter of that, the man 
 could very easily overtake us by cutting through the 
 marsh ; it will not bear a horse's weight, but it will a 
 man's. There is no difficulty in the way of his shoot- 
 ing us, that I can see." 
 
 " He shall not touch a hair of your head while I 
 have breath remaining ! " Otto exclaimed, excitedly. 
 
 "If we are both to be shot, which seems to me 
 highly improbable," she replied, in the spirit of contra- 
 diction which, with her, was the usual form of ill- 
 humour, "it is no matter which of us is first." 
 
 Otto again relapsed into discouraged silence. 
 
 Would the path ever come to an end ? Eeata asked 
 herself every minute. Each pace made her feel more 
 faint and giddy. It was three in the afternoon, €nd 
 breakfast had in reality been her only meal that day. 
 She was glad that Otto was on in front, for he could 
 not see how pale her cheeks were getting, nor how con- 
 vulsively she was clutching on to the saddle to steady 
 herself. The shawl seemed to be dragging down her 
 legs like lead ; the bushes and stones were dancing 
 before her eyes in an endless monotony. The little 
 white lilies that grew thickly between the tufts of 
 rank marsh-grass, and which she had thought so pretty 
 in the morning, now seemed to be ghastly and shape- 
 less. 
 
 Well she knew that with a single word she could 
 put an end to all this misery, but her foolish pride 
 would not let her speak ; and besides, she shrank with 
 morbid dread from anything that might prolong this 
 
 VOL. L M
 
 178 "what's in a name?" 
 
 tete-a-tete, which she so much wished over. No : she 
 would manage to hold out, she thought ; and then, in 
 the next minute, she called out faintly to Otto to say- 
 that she wanted a rest ; but she said " Baron Boden- 
 bach " in such a low voice that he did not hear, and 
 kept steadily on. She almost felt glad that he hadn't 
 heard her ; but when, a few minutes later, they had 
 got to the end of the marsh, almost on to the edge of 
 the plain, and Otto turned round towards her, her last 
 resolution gave way, and she slid off her horse and 
 stood beside it, looking as if she would faint. 
 
 He was by her side in an instant, with a face almost 
 as white as her own. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, are you ill? What has hap- 
 pened ? " and, half timidly, he put out his arm as if to 
 support her ; but she frowned, and drew back a step. 
 
 ''iSTo, no, please don't," she said, speaking with a 
 mixture of alarm and haughtiness ; " I am quite well, 
 only tired. I shall rest a minute, and I — I should like 
 some water." 
 
 " You shall have some directly," he answered, con- 
 fidently, although he had no reason to suppose that 
 there was a drop of water within three miles — the 
 water in the marsh being fetid and undrinkable. 
 "But oh, Fraulein Eeata, why did you not speak 
 before ? It has been too much for you. What a brute 
 I was not to guess that ! If you can only reach that 
 bank over there, there is a dry sheltered spot where 
 you can rest." 
 
 Eeata shook her head in reply ; but she was forced
 
 ALARMED. 179 
 
 to take his proffered arm for support, which she did 
 with the less reluctance, as a vague conviction rose in 
 her mind that if she did faint he would carry her, and 
 that would be much worse. 
 
 With a sigh of relief she sank down on to the soft 
 cushion of grass, and leant back against the little piece 
 of steep bank, which to her seemed more delicious 
 than any arm-chair she had ever sat in. 
 
 By wonderful good-luck it appeared that there was, 
 at a short distance — not more than a few hundred 
 paces, in fact — a draw-well ; one of those used to 
 water the herds of horses that inhabit the plateaux. 
 Ortega was despatched with a flask to be filled ; and 
 meanwhile Otto made fast the horses to the stoutest 
 bushes he could find, and Eeata sat quite still, \^ith 
 half-closed eyes, enjoying the feeling of entire repose 
 and the sudden quiet which had come over her. And 
 yet she could not quite do away with the anger she 
 felt against herself and against Otto — an anger that 
 sprang from alarm. Her mind was full of contradic- 
 tions at this moment ; she felt provoked and grateful, 
 annoyed and relieved, all at once. On the whole, 
 annoyance had the upper hand ; and she replied to 
 Otto's inquiries in the same cool manner she had 
 shown towards him during the last two hours. It 
 seemed almost as if she wanted to make up for the 
 weakness which had forced her to lean on him, by the 
 repelling iciness of her tone. The change, inexplicable 
 as it was to him, wounded him deeply. Think as he 
 might, he was not able to call to mind a single cir-
 
 180 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 ciimstance, even the slightest, by which he should 
 have given her cause for offence. Even granted that 
 her humour was variable, and that over-fatigue was 
 telling on it, still he thought that some deeper ground 
 must be underlying. Could it be that she had guessed 
 his feelings, and wanted to crush his hopes at once ? 
 Or had she taken a sudden violent hatred to him ? 
 What would he not give if only she would speak to 
 him as she had spoken yesterday — as she had spoken 
 during the last ten days ! 
 
 " I wish I had gone for the water myself," he said, 
 after some silence. " That boy is sure to take his time 
 about it." 
 
 "You couldn't have gone faster than Ortega, and 
 probably you would not have known how to draw the 
 water." 
 
 " I should have managed somehow," said Otto, 
 colouring slightly, with a foolish feeling of mortifica- 
 tion. " I am not as awkward as it seems I appear. But 
 I wish you would be persuaded to drink a little wine. 
 I am sure it would revive you." 
 
 " No, thank you," she answered, shortly. 
 
 " It may be ten minutes before the water comes " 
 
 " Well, I can wait for it ; and besides, I feel a great 
 deal better now. Are you quite sure that the horses 
 are safely fastened ? It would not do to have one of 
 them escaping." 
 
 Otto, for answer, bent aside the twigs of the bushes 
 to the right, and disclosed a partial view of the horses, 
 in reality not more than a dozen yards from them,
 
 ALAKMED. 181 
 
 although hidden by the dense foliage. Solomon, who 
 was the nearest, had not lost a single instant in 
 stretching his ponderous limbs on the grass, and was 
 enjoying the unexpected rest. Maraquita, alongside, 
 stood erect, looking over her shoulder, and, with ears 
 bent forward and dilated nostrils, appeared to be 
 straining to catch some distant sound, or snuffing 
 something in the air far off. " The Bony One," form- 
 ing the outpost, was making better use of his oppor- 
 tunities, indulging in a hearty meal on all the 
 branches within his reach. 
 
 "Apparently you have little confidence in my 
 arrangements, Fraulein Eeata," said Otto, half-re- 
 proachfully, as he let the twigs fall back into their 
 place. "Do you not think that a cavalry solclier 
 ought at least to be able to encamp his horses 
 safely?" 
 
 " How can I have confidence, when I have had so 
 little experience in the efficiency of your arrange- 
 ments?" she answered, trying to speak lightly; but 
 even in speaking she regretted her words. 
 
 Otto was sitting at a few paces from her, diligently 
 digging the head of his riding-whip into the ground 
 alongside of him. He looked up at her quickly as 
 she spoke, and then continued his digging, as he said, 
 in a voice much graver than was his w^ont, "How 
 long, then, do you require to know a person before 
 you feel confidence in him?" 
 
 *'What is the use of asking such pointless ques- 
 tions ? " she said, pettishly. " Of course there are
 
 182 "what's in a name?" 
 
 some people in whom one never can feel confidence, 
 while others one would trust at once." 
 
 There was a pause. Otto had not raised his eyes 
 again, but sat scooping away as before, making a deep 
 hole in the ground. At last, in a very low tone — so 
 low that she only just caught the words — he said, " I 
 wonder to which of these two classes I belong 1 " 
 
 It could hardly have been intended for her ears; 
 and so there was no answer needed, which was fortu- 
 nate, as just at that moment Eeata felt unable to say 
 a word. The air seemed suddenly to have become 
 stifling. "It must be the rain in the atmosphere 
 which makes it so heavy and choking," she thought, 
 although she could not remember ever having ex- 
 ]3erienced this precise sensation before. Something, 
 she knew not exactly what, was going to happen ; and 
 she sat still, not daring to move or hardly to breathe, 
 in the fear of hastening what was to come. And yet 
 an almost hysterical desire overpowered her to make 
 some movement or say some word which would break 
 the spell. Her heart was beating fast and hot with 
 dread of what Otto's next words might be. 
 
 In her leaning posture, from under her half-closed 
 eyelids, she could just see the profile of his handsome 
 features clearly defined against the background of 
 leaden sky. Dark masses of clouds were towering 
 in all directions; they lowered sullenly, and hovered 
 with threatening weight over the line of hills opposite. 
 There was nothing wanted but a breath of air to com- 
 plete the bursting of the storm. As yet, a deadly
 
 ALARMED. 183 
 
 stillness lay on all nature — it, too, seemed spellbound, 
 unable to find voice or breath. 
 
 Far up above their heads, two black specks were 
 floating, the only moving objects in this vast calm. 
 Larger and larger they grew in descending ; and now 
 they could hear faintly the sharp eagle- cry, as the 
 great birds balanced in mid-air, to espy the bearings 
 to their rocky nest.
 
 184 
 
 CHAP TEE XII. 
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 
 
 If love be love, if love be oui-s. 
 
 Something came fluttering down tlirougli the air — an 
 eagle's feather. Eeata's eyes followed it, and in so 
 doing she caught sight of Ortega coming towards 
 them running. He was running very fast, and seemed 
 to be calling out something ; but the distance made it 
 unintelligible. 
 
 While she was still looking at him, there was a 
 slight noise near them — a crash of branches — the 
 hasty stamp and snort of horses, and then the thunder 
 of galloping hoofs. 
 
 "The horses are running away!" cried Eeata, 
 springing to her feet ; and as she said the words, there 
 shot past the opening in the bushes, not six paces 
 from them, a man on horseback, mounted on Don 
 Eamirez, dragging by her reins the mare Maraquita — 
 both horses plunging fearfully. 
 
 It was all the work of less than half a minute. In
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 185 
 
 the next, Otto rushed forward to where the solitary 
 Solomon, now at last startled out of his usual com- 
 posure, stood pawing the ground and making furious 
 efforts to get his head free. With one tremendous tug, 
 which tore down half a branch, and with the help of 
 Ortega — who had now come up breathless — Otto 
 loosened the reins. His foot was in the stirrup, 
 when he was stopped, held back by Eeata's hand 
 on his arm. 
 
 " Don't, don't go after him ! He has got pistols ; 
 did you not see ? You will be shot. Don't go, Otto, 
 for my sake ! " 
 
 She was clinging on to his arm ; and, by the ner- 
 vous clutch of her fingers, he could feel the convulsive 
 trembling that ran through her frame. Every trace of 
 colour had fled from her face ; all her life seemed 
 gone to her eyes — those wonderful dark eyes, which 
 even in the calmest repose were enthralling, which 
 only wanted the touch of passion to make their beauty 
 irresistible. 
 
 There was passion in them now — a sudden revela- 
 tion of passion, both in her eyes and in her voice. 
 Well she knew that a Mexican would not think twice 
 about shooting his pursuer ; but it could not be fear 
 for the safety of a mere friend which thus transformed 
 her in a minute. She had never looked, never spoken, 
 like this before. 
 
 "For your sake, Eeata! Say that again!" cried 
 Otto, in a glad voice. The happiness painted on his 
 face, as he turned back towards her, almost frightened
 
 186 "what's in a name?" 
 
 Eeata. The crisis was coming now; and she had 
 brought it on herself. 
 
 With a sudden step backwards, she dropped his 
 arm, and stood trembling afresh ; but now with fright 
 at what she had done. 
 
 Meanwhile Ortega, taking the law into his own 
 hands, had mounted, and was gone in pursuit. 
 
 " Eeata, darling Eeata ! " cried Otto, as he seized 
 both her passive, unresisting hands in his firm 
 grasp. At the touch of her fingers, horse - stealer 
 and horses, the need of the moment, vanished from 
 before his mental vision, as things that had never been. 
 "What would I not do for your sake, and for your 
 love ! " 
 
 The colour had come back to her cheeks with a 
 rush ; she felt it welling up from her heart, as it had 
 come upon her in the forest yesterday. Her hands 
 no longer remained passive ; she struggled to release 
 them, so as to hide her face and shut out that burning 
 eager gaze which sought to meet hers. 
 
 She dropped her head, she turned it aside ; but still 
 she had not spoken. 
 
 "Will you not say that you love me?" he asked, 
 speaking low, and gently drawing her towards him. 
 "Will you not make me the happiest man on earth 
 by one word, one little word ? I cannot live without 
 your love. Eeata, can you say you love me ? " 
 
 There was passion, truth, happiness in his voice ; 
 there was everything but doubt. Indeed, why should 
 it be ? Socially speaking, all the balance was in his
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 187 
 
 favour ; but never having loved a woman as truly as 
 the one who stood before him now, he came very near 
 to undervaluing his own advantages — as near as was 
 in his nature ; and had not that look of hers been so 
 betraying, he might still have doubted. 
 
 Could she say that she loved him ? The answer, 
 which last night had floated so dim and unformed in 
 her mind, was now clear. She felt sure that she 
 loved him ; but she did not know how to say it. A 
 confused idea, perhaps connected with the marriage 
 service, came into her mind, that it was necessary, on 
 such occasions, to pronounce distinctly the mono- 
 syllable expected of her; but speech seemed to have 
 forsaken her for ever. She cleared her throat, and 
 tried to speak ; the word would not come — *and 
 instead, her lips trembled into a conscious, happy 
 smile. 
 
 It was answer enough for Otto. He dropped her 
 tightly-clasped hands, only to put his arms round her 
 shrinking figure, and draw her close to himself. 
 
 The rising wind, which swept softly but with 
 growing breath over the withered grass, stirred her 
 hair and cooled her hot cheeks. 
 
 Far away the eagles had soared by this time ; slowly 
 and calmly, with outspread wings, they were drop- 
 ping into their nest, as if thankful to be at home 
 again. 
 
 Eeata allowed herself to be drawn into those strong 
 arms, which held her with such a gentle touch ; and 
 giving up all resistance, she let her head sink on his
 
 188 "what's in a name?" 
 
 shoulder. This way, at least, she could hide her 
 burning face from the light of day. 
 
 "My beloved, my beautiful Eeata!" murmured 
 Otto, bending over her, speaking in an intoxicated, 
 intoxicating whisper. He did that sort of thing so 
 well; he had done it so often before — but never as 
 truly, never as passionately, as now. 
 
 Every worldly consideration was swept away ; the 
 rich marriage which was to bring him a comfortable 
 independence, the charms of riches, Comtesse Halka, 
 the wishes of his family — they all melted before the 
 liquid softness of Eeata's eyes. 
 
 They stood there, these two happy beings, or these 
 two young fools, whichever you choose to call them, 
 in the quickly - gathering darkness of the approach- 
 ing storm, knowing and feeling nothing outside their 
 circle of happiness ; unconscious that the ever-black- 
 ening clouds had sunk and covered the blue hills 
 opposite, and that the wind, till then stealing noise- 
 lessly along, its progress marked only by the bending 
 blades and quivering leaves, had gained a voice — 
 a low wail in the distance, a sharp rustling in the 
 bushes close at hand ; unconscious also that they were 
 miles from home, and bereft of the means of getting 
 there. 
 
 A loud neigh close at hand recalled them from their 
 brief trance. Eeata started, and looked up for the 
 first time again ; and Otto gathered his senses together, 
 and remembered where they were. 
 
 Far off on the plain two figures were disappearing.
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 189 
 
 Don Ramirez, urged on by the horsestealer's pitiless 
 spurs, stretched his bony legs over the plain; fifty 
 paces behind, Ortega pressing Solomon to the pursuit, 
 but with every stride losing on the chestnut's pace. 
 Maraquita, before they had got half that distance, had 
 reared straight up and broken away ; and after career- 
 ing over the grass wildly for some minutes, came 
 galloping back towards her post, where she stood still 
 at a little distance, shaking her mane in the triumph 
 of escape — every muscle quivering under her glossy 
 skin. 
 
 A little coaxing and a bunch of grass held out 
 towards her were enough to quiet her. She came up 
 with coquettish, hesitating step, and allowed Otto to 
 take her reins and make them fast to a branch. • 
 
 Heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall, pattering 
 on to the broad-leaved plants, and thickening every 
 moment. 
 
 Otto, now fairly aroused to the gravity of the situa- 
 tion, was at his wits' end as to what he should do. 
 
 " How angry my aunt will be with me ! She will 
 think it is all my fault." 
 
 " I will make it all right with her ; and, after all, it 
 is only 'the Bony One' that is lost. How good of 
 Maraquita to come back ! There is a farmhouse not 
 half an hour's ride from here, if we could only reach 
 it ; but how ? " 
 
 " I suppose Maraquita could hardly be expected to 
 carry us both ? " Otto put in. 
 
 " If Solomon had returned," he added more seri-
 
 190 "what's in a name?" 
 
 ously, " the matter would have been simplified. You 
 could have gone on alone ; but as it is, there is no- 
 thing for it but to set out on foot, leading Maraquita." 
 
 " Oh, but I could easily ride Maraquita," she in- 
 terrupted ; " only — only — I should not like leaving 
 you alone, Baron Bodenbach." 
 
 Otto turned towards her with a reproachful look in 
 his fine eyes. " Why don't you call me as you did 
 before?" 
 
 " Did I ? Oh, but that was different. I can't do it 
 again. I don't think I shall ever be able to do it 
 again." 
 
 " Then I don't think I shall ever be able to let go 
 your hands till you do so ; and we will have to stand 
 here all night, and will be soaked through. Say, ' I do 
 not want to leave you, Otto. ' " 
 
 Otto usually got what he wanted from women when 
 he asked for it in that tone and with that look ; and, 
 of course, he got what he wanted noAv. 
 ^: Heavier and heavier were the rain -drops falling, 
 driven by the fitful gusts of wind, whose plaintive, 
 distant wail had changed into an angry howl. There 
 was no time to be lost. Otto dreaded the notion of 
 letting Eeata go on alone on the mare, but it was the 
 lesser of two evils. He was compelled to trust to her 
 courage and power of keeping her seat. Even by the 
 time he had settled her in the saddle her thin dress 
 was wet through. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said, timidly, putting her hand in 
 his, and looking at him as if they were going to be
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 191 
 
 parted for weeks, instead of for an hour. " You can- 
 not mistake the way if you follow the edge of the 
 forest." 
 
 He let go her hand and gave the mare her head. 
 Maraquita went off with a bound, but Otto, following 
 her with his heart in his eyes, saw her fall into a 
 settled gallop, which put his worst anxieties at rest. 
 
 The blood was coursing so hotly through his veins 
 that he felt no chill from the rain that was soaking 
 through his light summer-coat. As long as the blind- 
 ing drops would allow him, he kept his eyes on Mara- 
 quita's lessening figure ; but soon she was lost sight of, 
 and, heading the wind, he set off in the direction of the 
 farmhouse. 
 
 In the morning they had cut right across the plain, 
 but now he had to skirt the bushes to the left in order 
 to gain their place of refuge. 
 
 It was fortunate that the way was so unmistakably 
 simple ; for Otto, paying no heed to his steps, pressed 
 on mechanically, living over in thought the bliss which 
 the last half hour had created for him on earth. He 
 called himself a man blessed among a thousand for 
 gaining such a prize, — for being the first who had 
 awakened that pure and untouched affection. How 
 quickly the happiness of his life had sprung up ! It 
 had grown up with such a rapid growth that he scarce 
 noticed it till it had taken root in his soul and en- 
 twined his every thought. Not three weeks ago he 
 did not know her, did not guess that she existed, and 
 now she was his own ; she had given herself to him
 
 192 "what's in a name?" 
 
 with that complete unreserve of action which was her 
 great characteristic. 
 
 Never had he dreamt of such unmixed happiness as 
 what he felt when he held Eeata in his arms. He 
 began recalling every fleeting expression in her eyes, 
 every word, every movement. With what divine grace 
 she had shrunk, and yet yielded, as he drew her to- 
 wards him ! Her very silence, not hesitating, but timid, 
 was eloquence to him. 
 
 However hotly the blood is coursing through a 
 man's veins, a strong pour of rain and a cutting blast 
 will in the end damp and chill him. A loose bunch 
 of leaves, torn off and carried by the wind, flew straight 
 into Otto's face, and their dripping wetness roused 
 him a little from his dreams, and made him feel more 
 aware of the wind and weather against which he was 
 struggling. 
 
 It was not late, but darkness was gathering over all 
 the country around — not the darkness of night, but of 
 a fearful storm. 
 
 The worst was yet to come ; for though the water had 
 not ceased raining down a second, there were heavier 
 clouds still to break — clouds which came rushing 
 before the wind, banded together in compact black 
 masses, all towards one point, uniting their forces for a 
 grand explosion. 
 
 Had it not been that he was walking in the shelter 
 of the bushes. Otto could not have kept his footing in 
 the face of the blast which came sweeping over the 
 plain, bending the pliable branches down to the ground,
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 193 
 
 snapping off the little brittle ends of twigs whicli 
 resisted its breath. 'Midst its howling, now grown 
 hollow and fearful, and scarcely distinguishable from 
 it, was another sound — the long-drawn howling of the 
 prairie wolves, at all times striking the stranger's 
 ear with dismay, and which the mighty gale now bore 
 upon its wings, and made fantastically weird. 
 
 Otto shivered as he threw a glance across the wide 
 lonely expanse to his right — he the only human being 
 for far around. Presently he started ; for he seemed 
 to see through the gloom an army of spectres flying 
 towards him. Were those not their ghastly helmets 
 and pennons he could discern ? No ; it was only the 
 herd of white horses they had passed in the morning, 
 — like him, seeking to escape the storm. He coiJld 
 see their manes flying as they rushed past him, 
 the herders at the head, and the foals running wildly 
 at the side. 
 
 Would Eeata be under shelter yet ? he asked him- 
 self, as his teeth began to chatter with cold ; and at 
 the thought of her he quickened his pace, thinking 
 more of the happiness of meeting than of the urgency 
 of getting under roof. 
 
 During a temporary lull in the storm his mind 
 returned instinctively to the delightful occupation of 
 castle-building. But no joy in this world is without 
 alloy ; and in painting his future happiness with Eeata 
 the inconvenient question suddenly obtruded itself on 
 his mind, " What are we to live upon ? " 
 
 "Upon love," he probably would have answered, 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 had he been five years younger ; but Otto, although he 
 was madly in love — although just now he had been 
 losing sight of everything but his love — was no fool. 
 He had seen too much of the struggles of poverty in 
 his own family — he had felt (and this was more im- 
 portant) too much of the sting of poverty in his own 
 person — to forget its existence for long. 
 
 Suddenly now, as he struggled against the wind, 
 with the rain-drops beating in his face, he realised all 
 at once that the step he had taken overturned, with 
 one blow, the plans he had so carefully laid out for 
 the future. He had always said that his marriage 
 should better his fortunes. In taking a wife he would 
 have done with scrimping and poverty. 
 
 Up to this moment, even since aware of his love, 
 he had never been distinct with himself as to what he 
 meant to do. The slight twinge which damped his 
 enthusiastic joy, although it was not regret — it could 
 not be regret — yet savoured of something like dis- 
 appointment at the downfall of all the hopes he had 
 hitherto cherished ; for, after all. Otto was but human. 
 
 He had nothing beyond his pay, not to speak of his 
 debts ; and Eeata could have no money of her own. 
 Of course there was still uncle Max's will to look to ; 
 and if that failed, of course aunt Olivia could make 
 everything easy, if she chose. Simultaneously came 
 the thought, " How will she take the news ? Eeata is 
 a wonderful favourite ; but old ladies are cranky. I 
 think it will be better, decidedly better, to be on the 
 safe side, and not say anything for the present, until
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 195 
 
 I can see how the ground lies. It would not be fair 
 towards my darling Eeata to run the risk of losing 
 anything that might come to me from my aunt. I 
 must talk it over with Eeata, and try to make her 
 understand our position. Of course she knows nothing 
 about the value of money yet ; how should she ? she 
 has never had any in her hands. But supposing she 
 should not want to keep a secret from the old lady, if 
 she should exert that will of hers ? But no, there is 
 no fear of that." And Otto, alone as he was in the 
 darkness, smiled at the recollection of her soft confid- 
 ing look. How easily she had given way to the first 
 thing he had asked of her ! 
 
 Yes, his Eeata was an angel, a priceless gem ; and 
 everything would be right somehow, Otto murmui^d 
 to himself, incoherently. When would he see her 
 again? Would he ever reach that confounded farm- 
 house ? 
 
 He had soon talked himself back into a glow of 
 delight ; but far down in the depths of his soul there 
 was a faint feeling of unrest. A chord had been 
 touched which would not cease to vibrate, and every 
 now and 'then jarred on the sweet music of his love. 
 It was as if the first little cloud, weak and fleecy, but 
 still a cloud, had risen on the spotless heaven of his 
 happiness. 
 
 That confounded farm-house was reached at last, 
 but not till after what seemed to Otto an eternity. 
 
 A low broad -roofed building, standing within a 
 rough palisade. Otto saw a light gleaming through
 
 196 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the half-open door — heard a wild confused barking, as 
 a cascade of dogs came rushing out ; and then, as he 
 stepped in, there was a delightful sensation of sudden 
 warmth and shelter from the stormy elements. 
 
 Eeata was sitting before a great roaring fire, in the 
 place of honour, the farmer's family grouped round her 
 in attitudes of picturesque reverence. She started up 
 with a cry of delight ; and the first glance of her eyes 
 swept all worldly considerations out of Otto's head. 
 
 The dogs — great shaggy starved-looking beasts, with 
 a wolfish taint about them — came in snarling at his 
 heels. 
 
 " Down, all of you ! " said Reata, addressing them in 
 Spanish. " Come here directly, Reganon. You know 
 you are the worst dog. The others are bad enough ; 
 but you are far the worst. You are to sit down here 
 near me. Couch, sir ! " 
 
 ''Is that meant for me also?" asked Otto, suiting 
 the action to the word, and looking up from his sitting 
 posture into her face. 
 
 " Oh, how cold you are, and how wet ! " she said, 
 laying her hand lightly on his sleeve, clammy and 
 drenched with moisture. " And you are shivering too." 
 
 He could feel the warmth of her little hand on his 
 arm, and longed to seize it, and hold it as he had held 
 it once to-day. But the conventional uses of society 
 will keep their sway even in a Mexican farm-house ; 
 and, with half-a-dozen faces turned towards them, 
 Otto had to control his impulses, and content himself 
 with peaceful adoration.
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 197 
 
 The storm reached its climax with a burst of tre- 
 mendous power, which dwarfed all its previous fury 
 into insignificance. As the stupendous blast swept, 
 with ruthless ferocity, over the roof, and amidst the 
 hell of sounds, the heavy crash of a forest-tree was 
 heard hard by the door. A powerful tree it must 
 have been, by the way the ground trembled beneath 
 its descending weight. 
 
 All within the hut were wrapt in breathless fear. 
 The old Mexican farmer crossed himself, and drew his 
 grandchildren towards him; the woman fell on her 
 knees, and prayed aloud ; one of the girls put her 
 apron up to her eyes, and sobbed ; Eeata slipped her 
 fingers into Otto's, drawing a little closer to him ; 
 and the worst of the three bad dogs glared with his 
 yellow eyes, and gave forth a low deep growl. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, my darling, you are with me," 
 said Otto, with a lover's proud protection, when the 
 deafening roar would let him speak. " You need 
 never fear a storm again ; for I shall always be near 
 you — we shall always be together." 
 
 And her eyes answered him — " Always together ! "
 
 198 
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 THE BONY ONE. 
 
 She said, * Not so : but I will know 
 If there be any faith in man.' " 
 
 — Tennyson. 
 
 The consequences of that ride were not at an end with 
 Otto's declaration of love and the loss of the " Bony 
 One," for the very next morning Piotr, on entering his 
 master's room, was frightened out of his senses by 
 finding him in a state of high fever, after having 
 passed a miserable night. Otto's constitution, never 
 particularly robust, had suffered from the violent 
 change of climate he had undergone and the intense 
 Mexican heat. The last night's wetting was only the 
 excuse for an attack of fever, which would probably 
 have come sooner or later, and Otto was doomed to 
 a fortnight's severe illness. 
 
 Never before had he fretted and fumed as he did 
 now ; if at other times a bad patient, he became now 
 an almost unmanageable one. That this should come 
 just at present — ^just in time to spoil the last weeks of
 
 THE BONY ONE. 199 
 
 his stay, which he had pictured to himself as contain- 
 ing so much joy, so many happy hours passed in the 
 company of his betrothed, — this thought stung him 
 like an irony of Fate. 
 
 There was also another thought which rankled in 
 his mind, and added fuel to his impatience. He had 
 counted on the opportunities of this fortnight for put- 
 ting the question of his interests in the most becoming 
 light before his aunt's eyes, — a delicate matter, and 
 which required careful handling. Hitherto not a word 
 about money or business had been said to him ; but he 
 doubted not that it would come, and although wonder- 
 ing a little at the continued silence, he was in general 
 too good a politician to let his own eagerness hurry him 
 on to imprudence. This fortnight must surely brin^out 
 something ; he would be careful, and shape his course 
 by circumstances. 
 
 For these two causes he struggled against his illness 
 as long as he could, trying to convince everybody and 
 himself that it was no more than a passing indisposi- 
 tion ; but it did not prove to be so. The wet weather 
 which had set in, aggravated many of the symptoms, 
 and the nearest medical advice had to be sent for in 
 haste. 
 
 Piotr never left his master's side ; and, viewed as a 
 watch-dog, was admirable, but regarded in the light of 
 an intelligent and useful being, decidedly a failure. If 
 he attempted to drop out a dose, he was sure to spill 
 the contents ; if Otto required him to hand something 
 from the table, he would send all the medicine-bottles
 
 200 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 flying in his precipitation ; or if the blind had to be 
 drawn up or down, or the shutters closed, he would go 
 at it with such headlong hurry as to come in noisy 
 contact with every intervening piece of furniture. 
 
 All this is trying to an invalid, and was particularly 
 so to Otto's nervous irritability. After Piotr had once 
 nearly fractured his master's ankle by dropping on it a 
 hot bottle ; on another occasion had startled him by 
 pursuing and demolishing a black-beetle with a ther- 
 mometer (the thermometer suffering more than the 
 beetle) ; and on a third, had awoke Otto by praying in 
 
 a loud voice for his recovery, — Doctor X made a 
 
 stand, and banished the faithful domestic from the 
 sick-room. 
 
 The old lady trotted about the house all day in her 
 fussy anxiety, and dropped her cashmere shawl — which 
 by some miraculous chance had escaped tolerably un- 
 hurt from the perils of the ride — more frequently than 
 usual. She would also have trotted in and out of 
 Otto's room if the doctor had not again made a stand, 
 declaring that his patient needed quiet more than any- 
 thing, and restricting her to two or three visits a-day. 
 
 Eeata also walked about the house more than was 
 her habit, and most during the days when Otto's case 
 was the gravest. She could not go to her beloved 
 forest in the rain, so she spent her time indoors, in 
 idle unrest, doing nothing, wandering from room to 
 room, or scrawling down entries into her diary ; or 
 for hours together she would pace the veranda, with 
 hands unoccupied, but her mind busied with many
 
 THE BONY ONE. 201 
 
 tliouglits, while Ticlia sat and looked on in amazement 
 at this new state of affairs. 
 
 That evening, in the hurry before reaching home, 
 Otto had made her promise to keep the secret, and she 
 had given him her word to be silent for a week at any 
 rate, and by that time more would be settled than was 
 now. 
 
 When he pressed her on the point, she had looked 
 for a minute distressed, as if not knowing what answer 
 to make. 
 
 " Let me think a moment," she had said, " and I will 
 tell you whether I can or not." 
 
 " But surely, my darling," he had replied, " you will 
 not refuse me this trifle, the first thing I ask of you ? " 
 
 There were reasons against the plan of secrecy — more 
 reasons than Otto knew of — but she was too happy to 
 refuse him anything ; and so, after a pause, just as they 
 reached home, she had said, hurriedly, " Well, Otto, if 
 you like, I shall keep silent for a w^eek." 
 
 If the old lady had not been mentally so shortsighted 
 she could not have failed to perceive that something 
 was wrong with Eeata now. She wondered a little at 
 the girl's sudden restlessness of demeanour, her loss of 
 appetite, and neglect of favourite occupations ; but the 
 good creature herself was in such a continual state of 
 flurry and unnecessary bustle, and had her thoughts so 
 taken up with the invalid, that the change did not 
 strike her as it might at another time ; and if once 
 or twice her attention was aroused by the excitable 
 manner in which Eeata was walking up and down the
 
 202 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 veranda, she put it down to the unusual confinement 
 and want of exercise entailed by bad weather. 
 
 In the alarm of Otto's sudden illness, nobody thought 
 of taking any steps towards tracing the horse-stealer 
 and recovering Don Eamirez. Late that night Ortega 
 had returned, he and his horse fagged to death, and 
 of course unsuccessful in their pursuit. He had been 
 close upon the horse-stealer at one time, — so close 
 that he could hear him showering volleys of horribly 
 ingenious oaths upon the beautiful mare that had 
 escaped and the gaunt chestnut that remained as the 
 only fruit of his pains. 
 
 At last the day came when Otto was pronounced fit 
 to have his first taste of fresh air again. The weather 
 had cleared up partially, although not yet for good ; 
 and this being the first sunshiny afternoon — not the 
 hot sunshine of a fortnight ago, but a bright pleasant 
 warmth, as if the sun had emerged cool and refreshed 
 from a long shower-bath — it was decided that the 
 patient should spend an hour in the veranda, as a 
 first trial of his strength. 
 
 Otto looked forward to the hour as one would who 
 knows he is to see again what he loves most, and has 
 been parted from for a time ; and when he held her 
 hand again, and saw her face of tender anxiety, he felt 
 almost inclined to forgive Fate for the separation, so 
 sweet was the joy of meeting. 
 
 " How I have longed for this moment, my darling ! " 
 said Otto, holding her hand in his, and, aunt Olivia 
 being safely indoors, kissing it every moment. " Now
 
 THE BONY ONE. 203 
 
 tell me, dearest, did you think of me always ? Were 
 you sorry ? Did you miss me ? " 
 
 All of which questions were answered satisfactorily. 
 
 The drift of the conversation on the veranda may 
 be gathered from the fact that when, after his brief 
 span of freedom, Otto was ordered back to his room, 
 Keata, remaining outside, knelt down on the stone floor, 
 and pulling Ficha on to her lap, turned one of her fluffy 
 ears inside out and whispered into it, " If you only 
 knew how happy I am, White Puppy ! Is he not 
 charming and handsome ? And he loves me so, and 
 I love him too," she continued, more softly — " much 
 more than you. It is so good and noble of him to love 
 me when I am nothing but a companion, a poor penni- 
 less girl ; do you hear that, Ficha ? " and Reata g9,ve a 
 merry laugh, and put her head down on to Eicha's 
 soft back. " But, remember, you must be a discreet 
 Camel, and not betray a word about it yet ; it is a 
 secret — a great secret. You and I know another 
 secret, don't we, Blossom ? I shall tell it him soon, I 
 think ; but I must wait till he is stronger : and then, 
 I am in no hurry now, — everything is so delightful 
 that I want nothing changed." 
 
 Two days after, Otto was roused from his morning 
 slumbers by the sound of wheels outside ; and in 
 hastily pulling aside the blind, and squeezing his head 
 into a corner of the window, he just caught a glimpse 
 of the yellow gig driving away. On questioning Piotr, 
 he heard that a gentleman had come to the house 
 while the Herr Oberlieutenant was sound asleep — not
 
 204 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the same gentleman who had been here once before, 
 but an old grey-haired one. He had talked with the 
 ladies in the breakfast-room for some time, and had 
 now taken his departure. 
 
 This occurrence gave a new turn to Otto's thoughts, 
 which for the last two days had been centred entirely, 
 and to the exclusion of everything else, on his newly- 
 created happiness. " My time is short," he said to 
 himself reprovingly, " and I must not allow my love 
 to overpower all practical advantages ; it would not be 
 fair to Eeata." 
 
 That same afternoon they sat on the veranda again, 
 as they had done on the first day of his convalescence. 
 
 " You are strong enough to read letters, are you 
 not ? " asked Eeata. " Here is one that came two 
 days ago ; I did not dare to give it you before." 
 
 The letter was from Langenfeld, and Otto's face 
 clouded as he perused it. 
 
 ''Do you know the feeling, darling, of having an 
 enemy ? — a man whom you hate and who hates you ? " 
 he asked, as he refolded the paper. 
 
 " No," she answered, almost startled by the abrupt 
 question. "How can anybody hate you? Is the 
 letter from him ? I am so sorry I gave it you." 
 
 " No, but there is something about him." 
 
 " Why do you hate him. Otto ? " She fixed her eyes 
 with grave inquiry on his face. 
 
 " That man once took away from me something that 
 I wanted," he said, evading her look. 
 
 " Something that you wanted? Do you want it still?"
 
 THE BONY ONE. 205 
 
 " No, I do not." And he looked back at her, with 
 a smile beginning to chase away the cloud. 
 
 " Then why hate him still ? " 
 
 "You cannot understand, darling, and may you 
 never understand, the depth of the hatred between us. 
 Do you know, Eeata," — and Otto raised himself a little 
 from his leaning posture — " I would give up everything 
 I possess — everything except you, my darling — if by 
 that I could take from him all that he holds dear ! " 
 
 " How horrible, Otto ! " said Eeata, shudderinoj ; 
 " don't talk like that ; I am afraid of you." 
 
 " Afraid of me, my love ? " he repeated, recovering 
 his calmness, and leaning back. " You need never be 
 afraid of me. I feel like a different man when I am 
 near you; you can make of me what you please." 'He 
 stretched his hand towards her with a loving gesture. 
 His loose linen coat-sleeve was brushed up in the act ; 
 his wrist became bare, and showed a deep purple scar. 
 
 " Oh, Otto, what is that ? have you hurt yourself ? " 
 she asked, with sudden alarm in her eyes and voice. 
 
 " Yes, I hurt myself — but it was a long time ago ; 
 and it was he who did it — the man I have been 
 telling you of." 
 
 "What! he tried to kill you?" she faltered, pale 
 wdth nervous excitement. 
 
 " Not exactly ; we fought, and I came off worst." 
 
 " Poor Otto ! " was all she could say, and she looked 
 up into his eyes with a tender hero-worship that made 
 her seem more lovely almost than he had seen her yet. 
 
 " My only treasure ! " he murmured, returning to a
 
 206 "what's in a name?" 
 
 more congenial subject, and pursuing it from this point 
 with his wonted eloquence. But this time Otto, in the 
 midst of his love-making, and all in talking that sweet 
 senseless talk which is Paradise to the two concerned, 
 however uninteresting to every one else, kept steadily 
 in view the point he was aiming at, not letting the 
 pleasures of the moment entirely drown the solid 
 advantages of the future. 
 
 " Only one week more with you," he said, sighing 
 heavily ; " and to think of the two that I have lost by 
 that confounded fever ! How shall I be able to live 
 without you, even only a few months ! It will not be 
 longer than a few months, will it, dearest ? My aunt 
 will be able to spare you then ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so," she answered, a little absently. 
 Otto noticed that her manner had a shade of preoccupa- 
 tion in it to-day ; and her colour came and went even 
 more rapidly than usual. 
 
 " There are so many things we ought to talk over : 
 I feel sometimes as if I had known you all my life, 
 and then again I think that I do not know you at all. 
 You must feel the same thing about me : perhaps you 
 know still less of me than I do of you ? " 
 
 " Oh no, not that, darling," he said, smiling at her ; 
 " I think I know my own Eeata as well as myself. 
 You don't know how clear and transparent you are ; 
 I can read every thought. You never would be able 
 to conceal anything from me." 
 
 She gave a little uneasy laugh. " Not quite as 
 transparent as that, Otto; you know that at this
 
 THE BONY ONE. 207 
 
 moment I am keeping a secret from the Giraffe; so 
 that shows that I can keep a secret when I choose. 
 But, Otto, won't you let me tell her ? everything 
 would be so much simpler then," and Eeata sighed 
 wearily. 
 
 " Not yet, my love," he said, passing his fingers 
 caressingly over her hand. "You will wait a little 
 longer if I ask you, will you not ? Not very long, 
 only a few days. Perhaps the very day of my de- 
 parture will be the best, the most favourable." He 
 was talking now more to himself than to her. " You 
 cannot find it so hard to keep a secret to please me ? " 
 and Otto's dark-blue eyes, shaded with those dark 
 lashes, w^ere turned on Eeata with coaxing entreaty. 
 
 " I would do a great deal more to please you. Otto ; 
 but I do hope it is the last secret I need have from 
 the Giraffe. I think secrets are very troublesome 
 things" — and she looked at Otfco half wistfully, and 
 then was silent for a minute. 
 
 During that minute Otto was preparing to make 
 the first step towards solid advantages. Eeata was 
 ready to do anything to please him, and he was con- 
 vinced of it ; so why should he not make use of 
 this, in order to settle that troublesome business about 
 those three thousand florins ? He was thinking how 
 most skilfully to open the subject, when Eeata said in 
 a low voice, and without looking towards him, " I 
 want to tell you something, Otto." 
 
 It happened that at that particular moment he was 
 busied in lighting a cigar, or he could not have helped
 
 208 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 perceiving her evident nervousness : she looked as if 
 strung up to an effort. 
 
 "Tell me anything you like, darling," he said, ab- 
 sently, flinging away the match, with his thoughts 
 still running on the best way of broaching that tire- 
 some subject. 
 
 She turned her flushed face towards him, and was 
 opening her lips to speak, but before she had said a 
 syllable, there came an interruption — a violent inter- 
 ruption — in the shape of the old lady, Piotr, and Ortega, 
 all coming out of the house with a rush, and all talk- 
 ing together. Ortega was purple in the face, and 
 gasping with excitement, giving out in broken accents 
 something about horse-stealers and Don Eamirez. 
 
 "What's up next?" inquired Otto, raising himself 
 upright, and looking with bewilderment on the three 
 agitated countenances. 
 
 " I think he says that most of the other horses are 
 stolen too," said aunt Olivia, sinking on to a chair and 
 covering her face with her hands. 
 
 Piotr, who had followed the others, not understand- 
 ing even the drift of the excitement, but imagining 
 that some sort of outrage was going to be done to 
 Otto, stood by on one leg, breathing very hard, partly 
 from having run so fast, and partly from agitation, 
 ready to defend his master to the last breath. 
 
 "What has happened?" asked Pieata sternly of 
 the boy. 
 
 " The horse ! " he gasped out. 
 
 " What horse, and what is the matter with it ? "
 
 THE BONY ONE. 209 
 
 There was nothing the matter, it turned out, only 
 that two minutes before, when Ortega was occupied 
 in rubbing down Tabaco's coat, he had heard a loud 
 neigh outside the paddock, and there was Don Eamirez, 
 gaunter and more bony than ever, standing in wait 
 of admittance. " Where he came from, I don't know," 
 explained Ortega. " I never saw nor heard him till he 
 stood by the paddock with his head resting on the top 
 bar of the gate. There was nothing about him but a 
 piece of broken cord on one of his fore-legs, and his 
 bones are standing out all over his body, as if they 
 would come through the skin." 
 
 " Poor ' Bony One,' I must go and see him at once," 
 said Eeata, springing up — " that is to say, I will come 
 later," she corrected herself, remembering that Otto 
 could not walk as far. "See that he gets plenty of 
 food." 
 
 " He began eating as soon as he saw the oats, and 
 I don't think he will stop to-night," said Ortega, and 
 then he retired ; and Piotr, having gathered from the 
 gestures of the speakers that nothing was going to be 
 done to his master, retired also. 
 
 When they were left to themselves again, Otto was 
 determined to make for his point at once, without 
 risking further interruption; so almost immediately 
 he began — 
 
 " I have an important thing to say to you, my 
 dearest — a sort of confession, in fact, to make. Will 
 you listen to me now?" 
 
 "I am sure it is not bad; you could not do anything 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 "what's in a name?" 
 
 very bad, Otto," answered Eeata confidently, mentally 
 postponing what she on her side had to say until 
 he should have relieved his mind from whatever it 
 was that at that moment disturbed it. And then, 
 with certain preliminaries, Otto put the state of the 
 case before her, disposing it in as graceful and be- 
 coming a light as it would admit of His task was 
 not hard, and was crowned with unexpected success. 
 Eeata was confident of aunt Olivia's willingness and 
 ability to put all straight, and did not doubt her own 
 influence. 
 
 " There is such a weight off my mind ! " he said gaily, 
 having exhausted every imaginable expression of grati- 
 tude. "It was my last chance — otherwise I should 
 have had to leave the army, and that would be a pity, 
 I think," he added, in an aggrieved tone. 
 
 "Oh no, you must not leave the army," she ex- 
 claimed, eagerly. " I think the cavalry profession the 
 finest in the world, and you must look so well in your 
 imiform. I wish I could see you in it ! " 
 
 " What an enthusiast you are, my darling ! " — and 
 Otto smiled, as he thought how different the reality 
 was from the ideal. " I begin to suspect that you 
 must have had a hand in that P.S. of my aunt's letter." 
 
 "Perhaps I had," said Eeata, colouring up. "You 
 know the dear old Giraffe is so limp about writing, and 
 I have always to help her. She could never manage a 
 letter by herself" 
 
 "Do you know, it was principally on account of 
 those wretched debts that I came here at all? little
 
 THE BONY ONE. 211 
 
 thinking what a treasure I should find ! " and here he 
 again had the imprudence to kiss her hand. " It had 
 been all settled that Arnold was to go; but I asked 
 him to give up his place to me, and he did so." 
 
 " Did he ? How generous ! " she exclaimed, with 
 sparkling eyes. 
 
 *•' Oh, ah — yes," said Otto, with the air of a man to 
 whom an idea has been presented in quite a new light. 
 " Arnold is a good enough fellow in his way ; but, of 
 course, it is only natural that he should want to help 
 me in a strait like this." 
 
 " Tell me more about your brother, and about your 
 family. I want to hear everything. I am sure I shall 
 like them all so much," and Eeata drew her chair 
 a little nearer, and prepared to listen with interest. 
 
 '* I so much prefer talking about ourselves just at 
 present," he said, leaning back, and looking up into 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Nonsense !" was the reply; "we talk about our- 
 selves quite enough, and I want to hear all about your 
 family. You hardly ever mention them. JSTow begin 
 with your brother. What is he like ? " 
 
 " Eather like me, I believe," returned Otto, languidly. 
 
 " Then I am sure I shall like him," interrupted Eeata. 
 
 " Only he is darker ; not quite dark, you know, but 
 just brown. He has got good enough features — a little 
 heavy, perhaps ; and those heavy-featured men have 
 rarely got much variety of expression — don't you think 
 so, my pet ? " asked Otto, passing his hand lightly over 
 his smooth shaved chin, comfortable in the conscious-
 
 212 "what's in a name?" 
 
 ness that his own features, now no longer ignominiously 
 " planted-ont," could well bear her scrutiny. 
 
 " Is he as tall as you are ? " she next asked. 
 
 " Yes, quite as tall — taller, in fact, and ever so much 
 broader ; quite a different build, more suited to cuiras- 
 siers or heavy dragoons than to my sort of service." 
 
 "And is he like you in other ways? Does he talk 
 as much ? " 
 
 "Well, no," said Otto, rousiug himself to the further 
 discussion of this uninteresting topic — " that is to say, 
 not with ladies. He sometimes will talk for hours on 
 end with men, upon military, political, or agricultural 
 subjects. I have heard him hold forth for ten con- 
 secutive minutes" — and Otto here smiled a little, as 
 if at an amusing recollection — "against the vice of 
 Liberalism ; for Arnold has got some dreadfully anti- 
 quated notions on the subject, which would have been 
 more in place a century ago. In ladies' society, how- 
 ever, he is like a stick, and never manages to be a 
 favourite. Of course," added the speaker, reflectively, 
 " that is not his fault ; it is entirely a thing of knack, 
 and every one has not got it." 
 
 " But perhaps, if he tried, he could manage to get on 
 with ladies," suggested Eeata. " I also thought that I 
 could not speak to men, until I knew you. At any 
 rate, he will have to speak to me — for, after all, he will 
 be my own brother." 
 
 "Even you will not find that such an easy task, 
 dearest," said Otto, frowning ever so slightly as he 
 spoke. This great interest in his brother was not
 
 THE BONY ONE. 213 
 
 quite to his taste. Then he said spontaneously, 
 "Arnold is going to marry soon." 
 
 " Is he ? Then he must talk to ladies sometimes." 
 
 ''This is quite a different thing; he has been in- 
 timate with Hermine Schwerendorf ever since we were 
 all children together. She is the only person who 
 could ever have suited him." 
 
 "Is he fond of her?" asked Eeata, with startling 
 simplicity — " as fond as you are of me ? " 
 
 " Not that, I swear 1 " said Otto, with a look which 
 made her lower her eyes quickly ; " but that is only be- 
 cause it is not in his nature. He is not the sort of 
 man for it ; but he likes Hermine more than he could 
 care for anybody else. She is a quiet, gentle creature, 
 with hair as yellow as that sugar-cane over theTe ; 
 exactly the reverse of you, my beautiful love, and 
 exactly the sort of woman to suit Arnold." 
 
 "When are they going to be married?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," was the somewhat evasive 
 answer; "there is no time settled yet; but it won't 
 be long, I am sure. There can be no reason for their 
 waiting," he went on, after a pause, as if following up 
 a train of thought. " Hermine will have a handsome 
 clot, and they will be well enough off." Something like 
 the ghost of a sigh came at the end of Otto's phrase ; 
 and faint as it was, Eeata caught it. 
 
 Another pause; and this time she was pursuing 
 a separate train of thought. In a minute she said 
 timidly, and with her head averted, "I suppose we 
 shall be very ill off, Otto ? "
 
 214 "what's in a name?" 
 
 " I am afraid so, my darling," was the reply; " we 
 certainly shall be very poor, unless I can persuade my 
 aunt to do something for us." There was almost some 
 grimness in his tone as he spoke. 
 
 Eeata had risen, and was leaning over the wooden 
 balustrade, looking out on to the glimpse of plain be- 
 yond, where the fresh new grass was beginning to 
 spread its green cloak over the faded verdure of a 
 fortnight ago. 
 
 Her perceptions were intensely keen, and she had 
 turned away, that he should not see her face. Sud- 
 denly, without looking round, she asked — 
 
 " Tell me, Otto, would you be happier if we were rich ? " 
 
 Her tone sounded indifferent; but could he have 
 
 seen her look of intense anxiety as she spoke, he would 
 
 have been more cautious in replying. As it was, he 
 
 saw nothing, and answered unguardedly — 
 
 "Of course I should, my darling — much happier. 
 Money is everything in this world," he continued, 
 equally unconscious of the look of painful disappoint- 
 ment which had crossed her face, and speaking with 
 that eagerness of manner which betrays more than it 
 means to do. 
 
 " Money would never have anything to do with my 
 happiness," she said, speaking slowly, as if repeating 
 a lesson — "unless, indeed, the want of it entailed a 
 separation from those I loved." 
 
 " Of course, my angel," said Otto, hastily recovering 
 himself — " that is what I meant ; but you have got so 
 little experience in all these matters, and have not
 
 THE BONY ONE. 215 
 
 learnt to give them their proper value. You do not 
 realise what a difference money would make in your 
 and my life. It would be dreadful to me to see you 
 enduring privation of any kind. I should like to 
 surround my darling with everything that is beautiful 
 and precious; give her every luxury that love can 
 devise or money procure, and make her life like a 
 long, brilliant fairy-tale." 
 
 But even this gorgeous description failed to call 
 back the smile which had fled from Eeata's lips. She 
 remained immovable in her leaning posture, — that 
 same grave look on her face, and a thought slowly 
 ripening in her mind. 
 
 "But you would not love me the less because I 
 have not got bright and beautiful surroundings ? " 
 There was something in her voice which roused Otto's 
 attention. 
 
 " Eeata ! " he said, rising and going up to her. 
 
 She had put one hand over her face; he drew it 
 away, — and then she turned quickly towards him, and 
 laying both her hands on his arms, said passionately, 
 " I must be loved for myself alone, Otto ; no other love 
 will do for me." 
 
 " But, dearest " he interrupted, in surprise. 
 
 " You must love me only for myself," she went on, 
 in the same way ; " that is what I need, what I yearn 
 for." Her eyes were fixed on his, with an intensity of 
 inquiry which seemed as if it would read his soul. 
 " I would not love you a bit better if you were a king. 
 I should be content to beg my bread round the world
 
 216 "WHAT'S m A NAME?" 
 
 with you, if only I knew that you love me as I want 
 to be loved. If I ever thought that you could, for a 
 second, regret, I would not have you. Otto." She tried 
 to finish playfully ; but the tears trembling in her eyes 
 belied her. 
 
 "Do I not love you for yourself alone?" he asked; 
 and amidst the emotion which made him pale, there 
 was a tone of tender reproach. 
 
 With all her soft affection, there was something in 
 this girl which he did not understand, — a vein of wild 
 untamed romance, which in a character like hers might 
 lead to strange results — a capacity hardly yet awakened, 
 which he had guessed at in her childish fancies, and 
 which he now read in her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, you know I am only a poor companion," she 
 said, looking up at him, and speaking with an eager- 
 ness which sought to silence doubts. " That is what 
 makes me prize your love all the more." 
 
 " Have I not shown you," said Otto, bending over 
 her, and holding her tightly strained towards him, " by 
 asking you to be my own, that T value your own sweet 
 self more than any fortune which another woman might 
 bring me ? " He paused for one second, and then went 
 on : " To be quite frank, darling — before I saw you, I, 
 like many other men, thought that I could only marry 
 for the sake of bettering my position ; but you have 
 conquered everything beside you, and taught me that 
 there is nothing worth living for but Love," — and so 
 strong is the force of passion while it lasts, that Otto's 
 own words convinced himself.
 
 THE BONY ONE. 217 
 
 " How can you still doubt me after this, my own 
 beloved ? " 
 
 By this time Eeata was beginning to feel ashamed 
 of her foolish outbreak. 
 
 " It is so wrong of me to excite you at present, after 
 your illness," she said, stealing her hand into his. " I 
 don't know how it all began. I have got odd ideas at 
 times, and you will have to get accustomed to them. 
 Ah, you have no notion what a troublesome bargain 
 you have got on your hands ! " 
 
 ''By the by," said Otto, with a sudden recollection, 
 "did you not say a little while ago that you had some- 
 thing to tell me ? I was thinking of other things at 
 the moment ; but surely you said that ? " 
 
 " Oh no, it is nothing. I have changed my mind," 
 she said, drawing herself up a little, and speaking 
 quietly but with decision. "Never mind about it, 
 and don't ask me. I cannot tell you now, but I will 
 some day." 
 
 He had not attached much importance to the matter 
 at the moment, and he did not now ; neither did he 
 want to press her, and possibly disturb her mind again. 
 Although, in returning to his room, he wondered a little 
 what it was, and why she had suddenly changed her 
 mind, it was soon dismissed from his thoughts as one 
 of his beloved Eeata's strange fancies. 
 
 Perhaps he gave the less attention to it because just 
 then there was another subject pressing on his mind. 
 
 " So that hound is making the best of my absence," 
 he said, drawing out Langenfeld's letter again and re-
 
 218 "what's in a name?" 
 
 garding it grimly. " I daresay he thinks himself quite 
 sure of Halka as long as my back is turned. What 
 would he say if he knew that I am no longer a candi- 
 date for her hand ? Will I ever get him to believe that 
 I withdraw from free choice? What a fool he will 
 think me for my pains ! " And Otto stuffed back the 
 paper impatiently into his pocket, and passed his hand 
 quickly across his eyes, as if to chase away some 
 stinging thought. 
 
 Meanwhile Eeata stepped off the veranda, and 
 walked as far as the beginning of the forest, where 
 she sat down under the first tree, and, with her hands 
 clasped round her knees, thought deeply. 
 
 They were not altogether joyful thoughts ; for although 
 she smiled now and then, she frowned as often, throw- 
 ing back her head, as if with some hidden thought of 
 pride. 
 
 She quite forgot to visit Don Eamirez ; and there 
 were no confidences whispered into Ficha's ear to- 
 night.
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 UNCLE MAX'S REVENGE. 
 
 " Let's choose executors and talk of wills." 
 
 — Richard II. 
 
 Nothing in this life is ever exactly like what we ex- 
 pected : it may be better, or it may be worse, but the 
 details of the picture in our minds never are quite ful- 
 filled. Whether it be a person or place we expect to 
 see, a painting we are going to view, a conversation of 
 which we have chalked out all the details, or any event 
 which we know impending, and of which we fancy 
 that we know every circumstance — the reality will 
 most certainly be widely different from the idea. The 
 greater the power of imagination, the more prone you 
 will be to go far astray from the mark. The moment 
 that anything is placed in prospect, your fancy seizes 
 on it, and will paint you pictures gorgeous or dismal, 
 golden or black, according to the state of mind you 
 happen to be in — until, when you stand before the 
 thing itself, you hardly recognise it for the same. 
 Many of the touches you had endowed it with will be
 
 220 "what's in a name?" 
 
 wanting ; and instead, there will be other touches you 
 could not foresee, and which alter the character, and 
 make it into another thing. 
 
 You are to meet again a friend whom you have not 
 seen for a time — an old friend who has been your 
 school-fellow, and whom you love as a brother. You 
 will picture to yourself the meeting ; you see how he 
 will clasp your hand, how he will look at you, wliat 
 he will say, and what you will answer. You will have 
 given a form to the very surroundings of the moment, 
 and, unconsciously perhaps, have decided on the look 
 of the pier or platform where the meeting will be. 
 The moment comes, — and everything is different. 
 The first words are not joyful, as you had thought they 
 would be, but grave ; and the sun does not shine as 
 it did in your picture, but the day is dull and colour- 
 less. 
 
 And look how this holds good in the smallest trivi- 
 alities of life. You have ordered your dinner at a 
 hotel. Let us suppose that you are a gourmand ; your 
 imagination will, unknown to your better self, imme- 
 diately begin working out the details of the dish that is 
 coming. And even granted that you are not a gour- 
 mand^ but simply a hungry mortal, you will instinct- 
 ively form an idea of what the dish will be like. I 
 will not suppose that you have ordered anything as 
 complicated in name and shape as " grenadins de thon 
 en matelote" or " ^'pigramme de Mcasse a la Pirigord!' 
 These are not fair examples ; for how can any inex- 
 perienced person, ungifted with the power of second-
 
 UNCLE MAX S REVENGE. 221 
 
 sight, form anything like a correct conjecture of what 
 might be the shape and colour of those curiously- 
 baptised dishes 1 No, let it be nothing more intricate 
 than a beefsteak garni; and yet, when it is placed 
 before your hungering eyes, you will at once feel aware 
 that it is different from your expectation. Perhaps it 
 is thicker or thinner cut than you had thought ; per- 
 haps it is more under or more over done. Possibly the 
 change comes only from surrounding circumstances: 
 you had fancied the dish white, and it is blue ; you 
 had hoped for a garnishing of green peas, and there is 
 only spinage. 
 
 Otto had now only two days in Mexico remaining, 
 and as he thought over the five weeks of his visit, he 
 acknowledged to himself that it had all been very differ- 
 ent from his expectations. Here also there were many 
 unforeseen touches in the picture ; and one in par- 
 ticular, which had given it a strange, beautiful colour- 
 ing, he never had dreamt of — for certainly, in starting 
 to see his aunt, he little thought that in a few short 
 w^eeks he should return home an engaged man. He 
 had come in quest of a fortune, and had found a 
 bride — and such a peerless bride ! 
 
 But also there were many things amissing in the 
 picture. Those hopes and sanguine expectations, 
 which Arnold had called castles in the air, seemed, 
 indeed, to have been built on no more solid founda- 
 tion. In spite of his knack of getting round people, 
 and of ingratiating himself in their favour — in spite of 
 the warm welcome he had received, and the friendly
 
 222 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 manner in wliich from the first day he had been made 
 to feel himself at home — he had not got any further ; 
 and here he was, at the very eve of his departure, forced 
 to confess to himself, with considerable mortification, 
 that he was no wiser as to his aunt's fortune and her 
 intentions towards her relations than he had been 
 before he came. 
 
 In her letters there had been, to Otto's eyes at least, 
 a glimmering of hopes held out ; but as yet these had 
 come to nothing. Since his arrival here, not a word of 
 the sort had been spoken, nor any reference made to 
 the hints then thrown out. The only point he had 
 gained — and this, as we know, through Eeata's in- 
 fluence. — was the settling of his debt. Everything 
 had been made square about that, and with ap- 
 parently very little difficulty. 
 
 Still he felt disappointed ; and had it not been for 
 the diversion which Love had created for him, he would 
 have felt more provoked still. It was only now, on the 
 verge of departure, that he fully realised the situation 
 in all its points. One thing was strange — Maximilian 
 Bodenbach had hardly ever been spoken of; Otto had 
 only once or twice heard his name mentioned, and it 
 was with a caution which he could not account for. 
 
 His engagement was still secret. He had no fixed 
 plan for the announcement ; certainly it should not be 
 until the last moment. Perhaps he would do it by 
 writing, or, perhaps, he would leave it to be done by 
 Eeata. 
 
 Yes, it had been a strange time those five weeks in
 
 UNCLE MAX's REVENGE. 223 
 
 Mexico, spent so quietly in that long low house which 
 overlooked the plateau. That forest close at hand, 
 with all its tropical beauties — which Eeata, on the 
 morning after his arrival, had described with such 
 glowing colours, and where he had passed so many 
 blissful hours in her society under the palm-trees 
 — was as familiar to him now as the woods near 
 Steinbiihl. 
 
 The solitude of those weeks had never seemed to 
 him oppressive. It is faqon de 'parler to say that you 
 have not seen a soul for ages ; but here it would have 
 been no more than truth. Otto had seen several 
 
 human beings — the inhabitants of S , namely, and 
 
 the Mexicans who had given them shelter in the farm ; 
 but of people with whom he had exchanged a word 
 beyond Eeata, the old lady, and his servant, there 
 was absolutely nobody but Emanuel Fadenhecht and 
 
 Doctor X , of whom Otto had formed only a very 
 
 hazy notion during the forty-eight hours that he had 
 stayed in the house. 
 
 It was like a piece out of another life, so different 
 did it appear to what went before, and to what he 
 knew must follow. Still there was a golden thread 
 which would connect these weeks with the future. 
 There was Eeata, his beautiful Eeata, whom he had 
 won for his own, and who would evermore belong to 
 his life. 
 
 That evening, the last but one before his departure. 
 Otto, who had still to cultivate invalid habits, went 
 to his room immediately after supper. It had been an
 
 224 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 unusually silent meal to-day. Eeata, who for some 
 days past seemed to have taken a pensive turn, was 
 decidedly abstracted. She looked anxious, too, and 
 excited. Once or twice Otto met her eyes fixed on 
 him with a look of inquiry, almost in the way he had 
 surprised her looking at him on the evening of his 
 arrival. His aunt, on her part, said something about 
 a headache, which accounted for her strangely dis- 
 turbed manner and the way her hand shook in helping 
 herself to sugar. She sat sipping her tea with a 
 general air of misery and depression, and cast im- 
 ploring glances across the table at Eeata. 
 
 Otto's spirits being at a low enough ebb already 
 with the prospect of departure, sank to a desperate 
 level, and after a few vain attempts at conversation, 
 he resigned himself to the general silence which 
 seemed to-day inevitable. 
 
 " See that you begin packing my things to-morrow," 
 he said to Piotr, when back in his room. " I know 
 you will take twenty-four hours for it, and I am not 
 going to touch an atom myself Do you hear ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, Herr Oberlieutenant, I hear." 
 
 The alert and cheerful way in which Piotr spoke 
 contrasted strongly with Otto's dismal tone. But 
 then Piotr was not in love, nor going to part from 
 the beloved object. 
 
 ''I don't see why you should be in such mighty 
 good humour about going home," said his master, 
 rather snappishly. " I am sure you have had less 
 to do here, and more to eat, than you have ever had
 
 UNCLE MAXS EEVENGE. 225 
 
 in your life before. Wait till we are back at Rzeszo- 
 16w again, and see bow you like returning to your 
 rations, and to cleaning my muddy riding-boots twice 
 a-day ! " 
 
 " Oh, Herr Oberlieutenant, I will clean your boots 
 six times a-day, and never eat anything but Kasza ! " ^ 
 exclaimed the honest fellow, with tears in his eyes. 
 " If only we are back in our country, where I can 
 speak to people, and people can speak to me ! " 
 
 " Eubbish ! " muttered Otto, with the wisdom of one 
 who has not been condemned to four weeks' perpetual 
 silence. 
 
 " I tried at first to speak to that young boy who is 
 with the horses," continued Piotr, warming with his 
 subject, and beginning to balance about the room in 
 an aimless fashion, vaguely dusting everything he 
 came across ; " but I could not get him to understand 
 a single thing I meant ; and the other stablemen are 
 no better; nor the coachman, nor the woman-servant 
 either." 
 
 " Look out there ! " roared Otto, as Piotr's vigorous 
 industry nearly brought down the lamp. " What the 
 dickens are you doing with that duster on the lamp- 
 shade ? And don't talk such infernal nonsense. How 
 can you expect them to understand you? Do you 
 imagine that every one talks your barbarous tongue ? " 
 
 *' No, it is not that," replied Piotr, mildly, putting 
 up with the opprobrious epithet thrown on the language 
 
 1 A small grain, which forms the chief nourishment of the Polish 
 peasants. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 of his adored country, transferring at the same time 
 his attentions from the lamp-shade to the water-jug. 
 " If there had been only one, I should not have 
 wondered. But six of them ! and all six together not 
 being able to say a sensible word, nor to understand 
 a word I say ; and when I spoke so loud, too ! " 
 
 Otto's bad humour began to give way to amuse- 
 ment as Piotr proceeded to enumerate and expatiate 
 upon the charms of his native country. To see oak- 
 trees and privet -hedges, sheepskin -coats and greasy 
 Jews, to taste beetroot-soup and walk in mud again, 
 seemed to this true patriot the summit of felicity. 
 
 " The mud here is not worthy of the name," he said, 
 disdainfully. " If we had had this much rain at home, 
 there would have been something to show for it ; but 
 here it dries up at once. That is not what I call mud.'' 
 " I wish I was never to set eyes again upon what 
 you call mud, nor foot in it," Otto began, and then 
 broke off, for there was a knock at the door. "It 
 will be my medicine; go and get it." 
 
 It was the medicine, but not the medicine alone, 
 for on the tray beside the cup lay a long narrow packet, 
 done up in blue paper, sealed with the Bodenbach arms, 
 and bearing Otto's name in the corner. 
 
 Otto's hand trembled a little as he took it off the 
 tray, and before he had opened the cover he felt a fore- 
 shadowing of what was coming. He had reached an 
 important moment, and much depended on what that 
 blue paper contained. 
 
 All sorts of wild ideas shot through his brain during
 
 UNCLE MAX'S REVENGE. 227 
 
 that minute, — his aunt had settled half a million on 
 him, and had chosen this means of conveying the 
 intelligence ; or she had found out his engagement to 
 Eeata, and was going to withdraw her countenance 
 from him, perhaps order him out of the house instant- 
 ly; or else she was sending a handsome present as a 
 farewell gift, a neat packet of bank-notes, only the 
 shape didn't look like that. 
 
 " I won't require you any more to-night, Piotr," he 
 said, sitting up in his chair with the packet in his 
 hand ; " get away to bed." 
 
 " But, Herr Oberlieutenant, I must take off your 
 boots," said Piotr, unable to reconcile himself to any- 
 thing abnormal. 
 
 " My boots, be hanged ! " Otto said, impatiently ; " I 
 want to be alone ; get away." 
 
 " But please, Herr Oberlieutenant," persisted Piotr, 
 eyeing his master's cliaussure^ as if meditating a sudden 
 rush at his legs. 
 
 " I'll take them off myself ; do you hear ? " 
 
 Piotr's expression was incredulous ; but seeing that 
 Otto's temper was about to give way, he left the room 
 unwillingly, throwing a longing glance at the boots, 
 and giving a parting touch with the duster to the 
 portmanteau as he passed. 
 
 The moment he was alone, Otto got up and locked 
 the door, and then tore off the blue cover of the packet. 
 The first glance showed him the fallacy of the bank- 
 note theory. 
 ■ There were three papers in the packet : one was a
 
 228 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 short letter on notepaper; the second was a cheque 
 to the amount of 2000 florins ; and the third, a thick 
 white paper folded lengthways down the middle, was 
 endorsed on the outer sheet as a copy of the Will of 
 Maximilian, Baron of Bodenbach. 
 
 He read the note first ; it was short : — 
 
 " My dear Nephew, — You receive enclosed a copy 
 of your uncle Maximilian's will, which I have had 
 made out for you, and which I wish you to keep. 
 !For the sake of greater clearness, I have had all the 
 sums referred to named in Austrian money. This will 
 be more intelligible to you than the national coin, 
 which figured in the original document. 
 
 *' When you have perused the contents of the will, 
 you will understand that, even did I wish, I am placed 
 out of the position of altering its conditions. 
 
 " The enclosed will, I hope, cover your journey ex- 
 penses. — With great affection, your aunt, 
 
 " Olivia Bodenbach." 
 
 Otto had of course speculated upon his uncle Max's 
 will, but of late rather less ; and now that he held it in 
 his hand, written out in fair characters, he knew that 
 here was the heart of the thing, the fulfilment or the 
 destruction of his sanguine hopes, the tug of war 
 which had to be got over. 
 
 Conditions ! His aunt spoke of unalterable condi- 
 tions. " I daresay I won't find them too hard," said 
 Otto to himself; but he felt too anxious to smile, as
 
 UNCLE MAXS EEVENGE. 229 
 
 he would have wished to do, by way of further self- 
 encouragement. 
 
 The paper was stiff and new, and would not let it- 
 self be folded out smoothly without a little trouble. 
 There was no trouble in the reading, — every word, 
 every letter, was traced with even distinctness ; the pen 
 had been sharp, and the ink of a wholesome black. 
 
 *' This is the last will and testament of MaximAlian, 
 Baron of Bodenhach, known in this country of Mexico 
 tender the name of Maximilian Boden. 
 
 " /, Maximilian Bodenhach, being at this time in pos- 
 session of my right mind, have resolved to appoint the 
 division of my ivorldly possessions in such manner as I 
 think most fit for promoting the welfare and honour of 
 the family of Bodenhach, whose name I am, proud to 
 claim as my birthright — it being in great measure vnth 
 view to the untarnished honour which for centuries has 
 rested on the said name that I found it advisable to cur- 
 tail and change the same to that of Boden while residing 
 in this country, as I deemed it my duty not to let the 
 name of Bodenhach be used in connection with mercan- 
 tile pursuits. My fortune, which at this time being I 
 value at two million florins, and ivhich, being withdrawn 
 from trade and placed in investment, will, under Provi- 
 dence, have remained unchanged at the time of my death, 
 I dispose of in the manner follovnng : One million and 
 a half, together with all my houses, estates, and effects 
 both real and personal, ivhatsoever and wheresoever, and 
 of what nature and quality soever ^ I hereby devise and
 
 230 "what's in a name ? " 
 
 hequeatJi (suhjectjwwever, to certain burdens arid condi- 
 tions to be named presently) in first place to my only 
 child and daughter, Olivia, Baroness of Bodenbach, for 
 her absolute and sole enjoyment during the term of her 
 life J to be disposed of in case of her death without natu- 
 ral heirs in the manner set forth further on in this 
 document." 
 
 The will here proceeded to enumerate the burdens, 
 which were as follows : The payment of six thousand 
 florins, together with the interest and compound inter- 
 est, to his nephew Walther ; this being the amount of 
 the debt owing to Maximilian's brother Felix, whose 
 generosity had shielded his honour at the time of his 
 flight from Europe, and for whom he professed every 
 imaginable feeling of gratitude. Then came a pension 
 of six hundred florins to be paid yearly to Fraulein 
 Lackenegg, his daughter's companion ; the capital to 
 belong to her, and leaving her the power to raise it 
 at will. 
 
 Otto's face lighted up here. " So my darling Eeata 
 is not penniless, after all," he muttered to himself. 
 " This will be some help ; almost enough to fork out 
 the caution-money. Why didn't she tell me this the 
 other day 1 Perhaps she does not know yet." 
 
 There were a few more legacies mentioned, and all 
 these were to be discharged within a twelvemonth fol- 
 lowing on the death. 
 
 So far Otto had read standing, with his left hand 
 resting on the table, and with the paper held so that
 
 UNCLE MAX S EEVENGE. 231 
 
 the lamplight from under the china shade streamed 
 full upon it; but now he sat down, for he had not 
 quite regained his usual strength, and the excitement 
 of the moment came wellnigh to overpower him. 
 
 There was still half a million to be disposed of ; and 
 everything depended upon the lioio. 
 
 The will proceeded : — 
 
 " The remaining five hundred thousand florins, which 
 is the quarter of my fortune, I dispose of in the following 
 manner, so as to henefit as much as possible my remaiii- 
 ing relatives ; and first and foremost I desire to benefit 
 the children of my nephew, Walther Bodenbach, should 
 he have any living at the time of my death.'' 
 
 Here Otto jumped up, and waving the paper above 
 his head, shouted out loud, " Hurrah ! didn't I say 
 so ? " 
 
 There is a proverb which says, " Don't holloa till you 
 are out of the wood ; " and Otto's exultation came a 
 little prematurely. 
 
 The will went on to say, that out of the sum afore- 
 named only a hundred and fifty thousand florins were 
 to belong unconditionally to Walther's children, and 
 that only on their attaining the age of twenty-one 
 years, and not before a twelvemonth after the tes- 
 tator's death. 
 
 Then came a long tirade about the evil consequences, 
 which he had seen exemplified in various manners, of 
 allowing young men and women to come to the posses-
 
 232 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 sion of money too early in life, &c., &c. — the gist of which 
 was, that the interest of the remaining capital of three 
 hundred and fifty thousand florins (the capital itself 
 never to be raised) should be apportioned in equal divi- 
 sion to his grand nephews or nieces, from the time 
 when they should attain the age of thirty years in the 
 case of boys, and of twenty-five years in the case of 
 girls ; and then only under the following condition : — 
 
 " That each of my possible grand-nephews or grand- 
 nieces, sons or daughters of my nephew Walther Bod- 
 enbach, should at the time of his or her attaining the 
 ages as above determined, be unmarried, or have con- 
 tracted a marriage with a person of noble birth ; and 
 by this I do not understand a person raised to the state 
 of nobility, but only a person actually born in the said 
 state. Should any one of my grand-nephews or grand- 
 nieces, subsequent to the attainment of the ages as above 
 determined, contract a marriage with a person not of 
 noble birth, I hereby determine that he or she should, 
 from the date of such a marriage, forfeit his or her pro- 
 portion of the above-determined interest." 
 
 " Humbug ! " shouted Otto, flinging down the docu- 
 ment on the table. The rage which had been slowly 
 gathering within him during the last sentence had 
 come to a climax now, and it relieved his feelings to 
 ill-treat the innocent paper. But, after all, he must 
 read the will to the end ; and so, having indulged his 
 fit of democratic passion for half a minute, there was
 
 UNCLE MAX'S KEVENGE. 233 
 
 nothing for it but to take up the ill-used document and 
 go on with its perusal. 
 
 It appears that in case of such forfeitures, the sums 
 in question were to go to another branch of Boden- 
 bachs, the Bodenbach-Bodenbergs, at the time being 
 settled in the Palatinate in due order of succession, 
 and always subject to the same condition. 
 
 Under pain of forfeiture also, his daughter was boimd 
 down not to make over any part of her fortune to any 
 of her relations for the purpose of furthering a marriage 
 which went contrary to the conditions of the will, and 
 she was restricted in her power of assisting her rela- 
 tions by money-gifts during her lifetime. 
 
 Evidently the old man had had his object very much 
 at heart, and had been firmly resolved that under^no 
 contingency should Walther's children be able to elude 
 the condition, or come to the enjoyment of more than 
 the portion he had set aside for them, for with charac- 
 teristic persistency he had provided for every possibility. 
 In case of his daughter's death without natural heirs 
 (and this appeared to Otto the most eccentric part of 
 this eccentric will), the whole of her large fortune was, 
 after the lapse of a year from the date of her death, to 
 devolve, not upon any of her relations, but upon the 
 Adelige Damen-Stift (chapter founded for ladies of 
 noble birth) near B , in Austria, which had al- 
 ready counted amongst its members several ladies 
 of the Bodenbach name. 
 
 The testator further declared, that whereas he had 
 once reflected on the step of disinheriting his daughter
 
 ^34 ^'WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 in the event of her ever contracting an ignoble mar- 
 riage, on considering the improbability of such an 
 event he had refrained from this course. 
 
 " Unnecessary stipulation — old hag," muttered Otto 
 between his teeth. 
 
 The will was now approaching its conclusion. After 
 various stipulations and provisions, in which the same 
 ground was travelled over, and which confirmed all the 
 conditions as perfectly binding, admitting of no loop- 
 hole of escape (his daughter being appointed sole exec- 
 utrix), it wound up in the following pompous terms : — 
 
 " The reason for wliich I have acted in the manner set 
 forth ahove, with regard to the marriages of my possible 
 grand nephews a.nd nieces, is that I, as a member of an 
 ancient and noUe family, consider it my duty, as far as 
 lies in my power, to prevent any Tnixture of pleheian 
 Hood yjith the nolle blood of Bodenhach ; and this espe- 
 cially as I am most painfully aware that an unfortunate 
 instance of this sort has taken place in the family withi7i 
 the last thirty years. It is my wish that leather should 
 the name of Bodenhach die out than that it should he- 
 come contaminated by any further admixture from ple- 
 heian sources. 
 
 " Although any idea of revenge is far from my mind, 
 I cannot refrain from reminding my nephew Walther 
 Bodenhach, whom I believe to he still living, that if at a 
 certain period of his life he had shown greater strength 
 of character and purpose, he not only would have at 
 this moment occupied towards me the position of a son,
 
 UNCLE MAX's REVENGE. 235 
 
 hut he would have also preserved the hlood of our family 
 intact in nobility, and have maintained and promoted 
 the intimate union of the Bodenbach name." 
 
 Here followed the winding up of the will — fully 
 signed and attested. 
 
 . Having read to the end, Otto again flung down the 
 paper, and remained sitting, leaning with his elbow 
 against the table, his fingers pushed up through his 
 hair in a way which gave to his face a wild look. His 
 brain was in a whirl ; he had read the will quickly — 
 not leaving out a word, but hardly for a moment paus- 
 ing to think — and now naturally he could not at 
 once clearly grasp the situation in all its details. 
 
 The expression of profound disgust which his face 
 had worn while he was reading through his grand- 
 uncle's flowery sentences about purity of blood and 
 disinterested intentions, now gave way to one of deep 
 thought. His nerves were so strained with the excite- 
 ment, that it was some seconds before he was able to 
 disentangle his ideas, and see in what way the circum- 
 stances bore directly on himself. The case was simple 
 enough, in truth — his fortune depended on his marriage. 
 Should he marry against his grand-uncle's wishes, he 
 would be reduced to a much smaller portion than the 
 one put aside for him — fifty thousand florins, instead 
 of close upon one hundred and seventy thousand. 
 
 For a man who has never known the possession of 
 money, to have a fortune suddenly assured to him, is, 
 or ought to be, a delightful experience ; but so insati-
 
 236 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 able is human nature — or, at least, some human natures 
 — that, having got a small thing, they forget, even de- 
 spise it, at sight of the larger one that is within their 
 grasp. 
 
 Otto never gave a thought to the smaller sum that 
 was unconditionally to be his ; he simply disregarded 
 it, for he was dazzled by the other. He took up the 
 document again and looked greedily at the portentous 
 ciphers, as if unable to take his eyes off them. His 
 fingers grasped the paper tight, as though it were the 
 gold it promised. 
 
 " A hundred and seventy thousand florins ! " he said 
 out loud. " How rich I shall be ! — Eeata and I. It 
 is more than I ever dreamt of My darling ! Now I 
 shall be able to make her life like a long fairy-tale ! 
 Oh, uncle Max is a trump, in spite of his absurd 
 notions ! " he went on, striding up and down the 
 room in that manner which was common to both 
 brothers when excited or preoccupied. He was evi- 
 dently going on to some stronger expressions on the 
 subject, but suddenly he checked himself violently and 
 came to a dead stand. 
 
 It was just before the looking-glass, which reflected 
 his pale, distorted face, and wildly ruflled hair. But 
 it was not this image, striking though it was, that had 
 drawn him up thus in a moment ; it was the question 
 which had flashed across his mind, Could it be that 
 Eeata was not of noble birth ? 
 
 To most people — that is to say, to those as strangely 
 ignorant on such a point as Otto was — this question
 
 UNCLE MAXS REVENGE. 237 
 
 would have presented itself instantaneously with the 
 reading of the will. Certainly, to Otto it would not 
 have failed to come as quickly, had it not been for the 
 very nature and strength of his attachment, which 
 made him regard its object as something quite different, 
 something separate from the rest of the world, as one 
 whom mere social distinctions could not affect. Never 
 had he felt the slightest curiosity about her family. 
 He did not know whether she had a single relation 
 living ; and if he had ever given a thought to the sub- 
 ject, it was only to rejoice at her seeming isolation, 
 with no family ties to weaken her entire reliance on 
 him. When he had asked Emanuel Fadenhecht for 
 her name, it was not because he was anxious to know 
 it, but simply because it seemed to him ridiculous that 
 he should not know it. As to considering whether she 
 was of noble birth or not, the question had, for the 
 above reasons, not occurred to him in a distinct shape ; 
 but if at any moment of the last five weeks he had 
 been asked offhand whether she were or were not, 
 he would have unhesitatingly answered in the affirma- 
 tive, merely because such was his general impression. 
 As far as personal views went, he did not put a straw's 
 weight on the matter. It was only now — when, from 
 a business point, the question had protruded itself 
 through the midst of his excited exultation — that for 
 the first time he considered the bare possibility of a 
 negative reply. 
 
 Now that he came to think of it, he had no positive 
 reason to suppose that Keata was of noble birth.
 
 238 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 After staring for a minute blankly into the glass, 
 frowning terribly at his own reflection, the first cloud 
 of doubt that had come over him passed away. 
 
 " How could I be such a fool ! " he exclaimed, with 
 a half laugh. " You have only to look at her for the 
 answer. She is a born princess in every movement 
 and action. Of course, somebody was an Indian chief 
 — my aunt told me so ; it was either her father or her 
 mother. I think the mother was — not a chief, of 
 course, but the daughter of one ; but who, in the name 
 of heavens, was her father ? A German, she said. 
 Lackenegg ? An unusual name ! I have hardly ever 
 heard it before ; must be a good one. Lackenegg — 
 Lackenegg," Otto repeated the name over, at least fifty 
 times, with different intonations of voice, and varieties 
 of accentuation and inflection. 
 
 " It is all right, I am certain," he said, resuming his 
 walk about the room ; but although his tone was hope- 
 ful, and his spirit, as a rule, belonged to the sanguine 
 order, yet an hour later he was still pacing his room, 
 looking paler and more excited, having worked himself 
 up into a state of painful suspense. He felt an invin- 
 cible desire to disturb the quiet house, where the still- 
 ness of night now reigned, by rushing out, knocking 
 at his aunt's door, and asking the dreaded question. 
 Would she not think him mad, if he sudd nly came to 
 her door in the dead of night to ask whether her com- 
 panion were of a noble family or not ? She would not 
 know that hanging on to that answer would be another 
 to him of such importance.
 
 UNCLE MAX S REVENGE. 239 
 
 " A happy man of course I shall be," he said once or 
 twice ; " with her any man must be happy : but am I 
 to be a rich man or a poor one ? " 
 
 No answer came; and none could come till to- 
 morrow, till he put the plain question and got the 
 plain reply. 
 
 He could not go on for ever repeating the name out 
 loud, by way of a test; so he fell to thinking, and 
 straining his memory, to see if nowhere that name had 
 a place in his experiences or recollections. 
 
 " Surely that old fogy of a Baron, whom I met at 
 Baden, was called Lackenegg — Baron Lackenegg ; that 
 will be it. Doesn't sound quite right, though. Con- 
 found the old blockhead ! I declare it was Flackenessf. 
 But that is no reason for there not being Baron Lack- 
 eneggs." 
 
 Following naturally on the agonies of this doubt, 
 came violently abusive thoughts of uncle Max, who 
 was the cause of all this mental anguish. He was no 
 longer a " trump," but a mean, revengeful, old miser, 
 who had hoarded up his wealth for the express pur- 
 pose of torturing his relatives in general, and his 
 grand-nephew Otto in particular. 
 
 " How that marriage of my father's must have stuck 
 in his throat ! 'No doubt he would have liked to get 
 rid of his precious Olivia. She can't have been a 
 beauty, even in her best days, judging from present 
 looks. As if anybody believed all that trash and 
 twaddle about blood ! I daresay, though, Arnold will 
 admire it all mightily; just in his line. All very well
 
 240 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 for him witli his Hermine ; but I have no patience 
 for it." 
 
 Thus Otto spent the hours of the night, passing 
 through the same rounds of argumeut, doubt, hope, 
 and rage — always travelling in a circle, and coming 
 back to the same point ; but not able to put aside the 
 subject, however fruitless its consideration must be. 
 
 At last nature took what was not offered, and sent 
 him sound asleep in his chair.
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIK. 
 
 " I do not like her name." 
 
 — As You Like It. 
 
 Otto's last day in Mexico broke dull and cloudy. It 
 had rained again in the night ; he had heard the drizzle 
 against the pane, and there was more rain to come. 
 
 After dinner Eeata proposed a visit to the horse- 
 paddock ; and Otto acquiesced readily, seeing here the 
 opportunity he had not yet had of speaking to her 
 alone, and asking the great question. It would be best 
 to ask her, rather than his aunt, he thought, on mature 
 consideration ; but of course he would do so skilfully, 
 so as not to excite suspicion. He was ignorant of how 
 much or how little she knew of the contents of the 
 will. Something she must know, he thought ; but did 
 she know all ? 
 
 When first they met that day, a close observer 
 would have seen that each had glanced furtively at 
 the other. In Otto's face there was anxiety and a 
 look of harassment, and in her face there was anxiety 
 too. More prominent than anxiety, though, were the 
 
 VOL. L Q
 
 242 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 lines of determination which sat almost hardly round 
 her mouth to-day, robbing her face of its softness. 
 
 As soon as they were out of the house Eeata spoke — 
 
 "Didn't you say, the other day, Otto, that your brother 
 Arnold is fond of riding ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is fond of it," replied Otto, in some won- 
 der at this abrupt commencement; "of course every 
 cavalry officer ought to be. Why do you ask me, my 
 darling ? " 
 
 " Well, because," she answered, in high embarrass- 
 ment — " because your aunt was saying this morn- 
 
 " Something about Arnold? Why, what can she 
 want to do to him?" 
 
 "She wants — would like to — if he does not mind 
 — to send him a trifle, a little souvenir, by you." 
 
 " Oh, all right," Otto said, carelessly ; " I suppose it 
 will go into my portmanteau," thinking of riding-whips 
 and embroidered saddle-cloths. 
 
 " No, not quite, I am afraid," she said, half laughing 
 through her embarrassment; "it is too big — it is a 
 horse : Maraquita, in fact — that is to say, if you con- 
 sider it worth while, and that your brother will care 
 about it." 
 
 Otto gave a long whistle, and was silent, out of 
 sheer surprise. " The deuce of a * little souvenir'/" he 
 thought, ''fifteen-three high." 
 
 " Perhaps it is stupid of me," said Eeata, distressed 
 at his silence ; " because I — I gave her the idea. You 
 seemed to think Maraquita pretty the other day, and
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIR. 243 
 
 you also said that in your country it is difficult to 
 get good horses ; and I thought that perhaps your 
 
 brother " 
 
 " Of course, my own darling " he interrupted, en- 
 thusiastically ; " you were quite right ; it is only you 
 who could have such a capital idea. Arnold is a 
 lucky fellow, by Jove ! " 
 
 " And do you really think he will like her ? " 
 
 " Like her ! Arnold would need to be a greater fool 
 than I take him for, if he does not. I don't think our 
 stables at Steinblihl have had the honour of roofing 
 such an animal for the last twenty-five years." 
 
 Otto pushed open the wooden gate of the paddock, 
 which they had now reached, and they stood on the 
 wet grass, near the entrance, looking round among the 
 horses for the one they were in quest of. There she 
 was, Maraquita, at the far end, close to the opposite 
 paling, gracefully reposing her shapely little head on 
 Tabaco's broad back. 
 
 Mexican horses are docile as a rule, and show strong 
 attachment to their masters. When Otto and Eeata 
 entered the enclosure, almost the whole of the dozen 
 or so horses approached; some quickly, some slowly, 
 each in the manner that best accorded with his 
 character. Don Eamirez was among the foremost, 
 stepping out with a sort of jaunty majesty, and carry- 
 ing his nose very high. " Maraquita, Maraquita ! " 
 called Keata, making a step forward and holding out 
 a very tempting slice of white bread. 
 
 It was a fortnight since Otto had seen Maraquita,
 
 244 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 not since the day of the ride ; and now as he watched 
 her approaching with slow and dainty steps, the be- 
 lief he had expressed of Arnold's being a very lucky 
 fellow grew stronger in his mind. 
 
 "It is almost a pity," reflected Otto, "that such 
 perfection should be wasted at Steinblihl. AVhy, 
 there isn't her match in the regiment : she would beat 
 the colonel's chestnut by long chalks; even Kreislich's 
 grey mare could not rival her. That would be a 
 triumph ! Arnold is a lucky fellow — a confoundedly 
 lucky fellow ! " 
 
 "Well, Otto, have you found out anything wrong 
 about Maraquita?" Eeata inquired. "Why are you 
 staring at her so intently ? Her knees are not broken, 
 or anything, are they ? " 
 
 " I was only thinking what a pity it is that there 
 is no second Maraquita agoing," he replied, with a 
 laugh. " I would almost have had the impudence to 
 petition for the other myself." 
 
 " I am so sorry there is not another like her," ex- 
 claimed Eeata, with true regret in her voice. "T 
 suppose you would not care for the ' Bony One ' 
 instead?" she added, laughing. "I daresay I could 
 induce your aunt to let you have him." 
 
 Otto shook his head with more gravity than the 
 occasion seemed to demand, and looked round with 
 serious attention at the group of horses. Alas I he 
 knew them all by heart — shaky-legged, broken-kneed, 
 or under-bred, — a fault to find with each, — Mara- 
 quita, and only Maraquita, shining like a star in their
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIR. 245 
 
 midst. " Maraquita or none," he sighed to himself, 
 despondently; and perhaps his face said the same 
 thing, for Eeata exclaimed, with an involuntary im- 
 pulse, "I do believe that you would like to have the 
 horse yourself ! " 
 
 It was Otto's own thought ; hut it rather startled 
 him to see it so quickly guessed at. 
 
 "I have got a particular — a — a — liking for the 
 animal, I must confess," he began, evasively, "quite 
 apart from her merits. You know, darling " — and he 
 lowered his voice a little — "Maraquita is connected 
 with that day when you first made me happy. She 
 seems like a sort of link. Perhaps it is foolish of 
 me," he said, gaining confidence ; " but I cannot 
 think, without a pang, of her belonging to anybody 
 else." 
 
 After all, what harm would it do if the horse went 
 to one brother instead of the other ? It would be no 
 disappointment to Arnold ; for he did not know of 
 Maraquita's existence, and need never know of the 
 cliance he had lost. 
 
 "But surely not a pang if she belonged to your 
 brother, Otto?" 
 
 "Well, it is not quite the same thing, you see, 
 darling ; and besides, now that I come to think of it, 
 I cannot help fancying that in Arnold's position a 
 valuable horse like that would be of very little real 
 use. What he requires is more of a hack, all for work, 
 and not for show. Now, my case is quite different. 
 Maraquita is just the make for an officer's charger."
 
 246 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 "Then you shall have her," said Eeata, decidedly, 
 looking straight before her at Maraquita, not at Otto. 
 " The Giraffe is sure to have no objections." 
 
 " But, dearest, do you not think that my aunt will 
 take it amiss? and is it not rather hard upon Arnold?" 
 he added, with a very becoming assumption of care for 
 his brother's interests. 
 
 " Nonsense, Otto ! it was your own idea," — and as 
 their eyes met, Otto felt startled at a subtle shade he 
 saw in hers — a flash of doubt, of surprise. It was 
 gone in a minute; but it had been there. 
 
 "Of course you shall have Maraquita, if you like," 
 she went on, slowly. " It will be quite easy to 
 manage. You have the best right to her. I never 
 thought of that before." 
 
 And so it was arranged; and if Otto's conscience 
 felt a few slight pricks, they were soon silenced ; " for 
 it is much more natural," he argued, "that I should 
 have her than Arnold, when I have come all the 
 way out here, and have had the trouble of the long 
 voyage." 
 
 Logical deductions were not exactly Otto's strong 
 point ; but he had a knack of adapting them to cir- 
 cumstances, which was convenient. 
 
 After that point had been settled a sudden silence 
 came over the two. Otto felt conscious of a little 
 awkwardness, and stood switching his boots and star- 
 ing at the roan. Eeata stood beside him, with her 
 dress gathered up from the wet in one hand, but not 
 looking at the roan — apparently only at the grass at
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIR. 247 
 
 her feet. Presently she made a move to leave the 
 paddock; and this aroused Otto's faculties. 
 
 " No, not yet, my darling ; do not let us go home 
 yet. I have so much to talk to you about '' — and he 
 turned towards her with such earnest, such tender 
 entreaty in his face, that she smiled in spite of herself. 
 
 "But where can we go, Otto? I should like to have 
 taken you to say good-bye to the Giant's Umbrella ; 
 but the forest is so wet for walking, and besides, it 
 would be too far for you." 
 
 " Let us sit down here, anywhere," said he, looking 
 round wildly for some sort of a seat. " There, that is 
 just the thing " — and he pointed to a piece of prostrate 
 trunk, which had been partly hollowed out into a 
 receptacle for water, but whose solid flat end presei^ted 
 a roomy and not uninviting seat. 
 
 Here they sat down ; and their quadruped friends, 
 finding that there was nothing more to come, retired 
 discreetly, and left the lovers to their own society. 
 
 They were alone virtually ; for neither the horses 
 browsing round them, nor Ortega, seen in perspective 
 at the far end of the paddock, occupied in hammering 
 at a defective part of the paling, could be counted as 
 disturbing elements. Nevertheless, when Otto, ac- 
 cording to his now invariable habit, tried to get 
 possession of Eeata's two hands, she drew them away 
 a little demurely, saying, at the same time, " No, no. 
 Otto, that won't do now ; think of the stable-men." 
 
 "I only see a fraction of the back of one stable- 
 boy," said Otto, throwing a vindictive glance at the
 
 248 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 visible portion of Ortega's body ; but he did not at 
 once renew his attempt, for her manner had been 
 decided, and he felt, unaccountably, a little ashamed 
 of himself. 
 
 " How tired you look ! " said Eeata, after a little 
 silence. 
 
 " Do you think so ? Yes, I had a bad night," he 
 answered, flushing suddenly, and his voice sounding 
 constrained. She did not make any further remark 
 about it. She was waiting for something — waiting in 
 suspense ; but he did not know it. He had hoped for 
 an expression of sympathy, and was disappointed ; 
 nor could he ask for it then. Strangely enough, there 
 were moments when he was not quite at his ease in 
 her presence — when he felt he did not understand her, 
 and dared not assert the rights which he knew he 
 possessed. At the present moment, too, his ease of 
 mind was still further disturbed by the doubt pressing 
 on him, and which could only be solved either by a 
 point-blank question, or by getting at the answer in a 
 roundabout way. Prudence and delicacy both recom- 
 mended the latter course ; but some skill was requisite 
 to do it well. 
 
 He looked at Eeata, as if trying to read which 
 would be the most feasible way of approaching his 
 subject. Sitting on the tree-stem, with her hands 
 clasped together in her lap, her head a little thrown 
 back, and her eyes looking dreamily straight away 
 before her, over the paddock and the paling, to- 
 wards the green of the forest beyond, she looked the
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIE. 249 
 
 very embodiment of all that is called high-bred in a 
 woman. Figure and attitude, the very pose of the 
 head, seemed to Otto's eyes to reveal that stamp of 
 patrician carriage which he professed to disbelieve in, 
 but the recognition of which here seemed to him un- 
 mistakable. Was it not pure insanity to entertain a 
 doubt? How could she be otherwise than noble by 
 birth ? Of course the question was superfluous ; but 
 still it must be asked, and Otto tried to persuade him- 
 self that he felt no anxiety as to the answer. 
 
 " I told you all about my family the other day, when 
 you cross -questioned me, darling," he began, in a 
 would-be playful tone. " It is my turn now, is it not ? 
 You have never told me anything about your relations," 
 
 The dreamy look in Eeata's eyes vanished at" his 
 first word. Her thoughts must have been far away, 
 for she gave a little start and threw towards him a 
 quick sidelong glance, which he, having his head 
 averted, did not see ; nor did he see how rapidly her 
 colour changed from red to white, and from white to 
 red again. 
 
 " Oh, that is different with me," she answered imme- 
 diately ; " I have nothing to tell. You know I am 
 quite alone. I have got no brothers and sisters, and I 
 can't tell you anything about my mother." 
 
 "But you can tell me about your father, dearest, 
 can you not ? I think I have heard my aunt mention 
 him," Otto said, wondering a little at the eager way 
 she spoke in. " You know, everything about you must 
 interest me."
 
 250 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember my father," she replied, more 
 quietly. 
 
 " The name is a German one, of course, but it is 
 rather a peculiar one. I never heard it before." 
 
 " Do you find it peculiar ? I don't. But then, of 
 course, I am accustomed to it." 
 
 " How will you get accustomed to your new name ? " 
 he put in, with a further attempt at playfulness ; " how 
 will you like to be called Eeata Bodenbach 1 " 
 
 "I don't know," she answered, turning her head 
 away. 
 
 The beginning was not encouraging. Eeata seemed 
 to shrink from discussing her relations. Could she be 
 aware of his motive ? Otto felt unable to make up his 
 mind as to whether she did know of that condition of 
 the will, or did not. In any case his plan must be 
 pursued — he could not live longer with that doubt on 
 his mind. 
 
 " Do you remember that day in the forest when you 
 laughed at me so ? " he commenced, adopting a louder 
 and more cheerful tone. " Surely you will teach me 
 now how to pronounce your name ? will you not, 
 my own dearest ? It would not do for me to make 
 mistakes with the name of my promised wife," he 
 added, persuasively. 
 
 " It is so easy to pronounce," she replied, without 
 answering his pleading look. 
 
 " Now, come, my darling, do teach me. I am so bad 
 at these things. Lackenegg, I know, is the name, but 
 on which syllable is the stress to be put ? "
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIR. 251 
 
 " On the first, of course," she answered, a little im- 
 patiently. " It is very easy to pronounce, I tell you." 
 
 "Zackenegg ; that is it, then. Do let me hear you 
 say the name once. I shall have it all right then." 
 
 " No ; nonsense, Otto ! You know it quite well. It 
 is as simple as anything." 
 
 It would be wiser not to press the point, Otto 
 felt ; but he had gained nothing as yet, and he might 
 not have another such opportunity as the present. 
 
 "I met a gentleman last year at Baden, a Baron 
 Lackenegg," he said, with studied carelessness, as an 
 angler would throw out a bait. "Some relation of 
 yours, I suppose ? How little I knew then " 
 
 "No; certainly no relation of mine," Eeata inter- 
 rupted, decidedly ; " it couldn't be." 
 
 *' Why not ? " he began. 
 
 " No, it couldn't be ; it is quite impossible," she re- 
 peated, turning from him and splashing with her hand 
 in the dull rain-water of the trough. The fringe of 
 lashes shading her eyes hid a new light — a light of 
 amusement which was gleaming there amidst graver 
 reflections. 
 
 " Perhaps some very distant relation — one you know 
 nothing about ? " suggested Otto. 
 
 " Oh no. I have got no relations that are Baron 
 Lackeneggs," — a slight stress on the Baron. 
 
 "Well, then, let us leave the Baron by all means, 
 and return to your father. He was settled a good 
 many years in Mexico, was he not ? " 
 
 "Yes, a good many years."
 
 252 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 " And Ms father again, Mr Lackenegg's father, had 
 not emigrated yet ? " pursued Otto, more as if making 
 an assertion than questioning. 
 
 He had got so near the perilous point that he could 
 not draw back. 
 
 " No ; he spent his life in Europe," she answered ; 
 and then added, with an odd twitch at the corner of 
 her mouth, as if she was restraining an inclination to 
 laugh, " he was pretty well known there, I believe." 
 
 Otto looked up quickly, with a triumphant sparkle 
 in his eye — he was very near his object now. " Some 
 great gun, of course," he thought, inwardly thankful. 
 
 " Oh, I daresay," he said aloud. " In the army, was 
 it?" 
 
 " No, he was not a soldier," she replied, lightly. 
 " His profession was quite in a different line ; he was 
 a professor, in fact, in the real sense of the word." 
 
 '* Oh," said Otto, looking rather blank, but in the 
 next second cheering up at the recollection of the 
 numerous honours and titles which are so freely 
 lavished on scientific men. A well-known professor 
 might well be supposed to have been presented with 
 one of those five -pointed crowns, of which I have 
 spoken before ; and it only wanted that, it only wanted 
 that little prefix of von, to complete Otto's happiness. 
 
 " Where did he — did he " began Otto, meaning 
 
 to ask where the gentleman had hung out, but rather 
 at a loss how to turn his phrase. 
 
 " Where did he practise ? " completed Eeata, readily. 
 " Oh, at Heidelberg."
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIR. 253 
 
 " Oh yes, the university," Otto answered, with skil- 
 ful suggestion. " Was it mathematics, or philosophy, 
 or — -" 
 
 " Oh no, not the university at all," Keata again in- 
 terrupted hira. " And not mathematics or astronomy, 
 or anything of that sort, but simply — dancing." 
 
 " Dancing ! " echoed Otto, in perfect incredulity. 
 
 "He was a dancing-master; do you understand?" 
 she repeated, with almost a little testiness in her 
 voice. 
 
 " A dancing-master ! Your grandfather a dancing- 
 master ! " he exclaimed, turning pale. The surprise 
 had taken him aback, and the words were out before 
 he had time to recover himself. She did not answer 
 in words, and just shrugged her shoulders ever so 
 slightly, without letting him see her face. 
 
 " And when," asked Otto, in a voice which, in spite 
 of every effort of will, sounded husky, *' when was it 
 that Mr Lackenegg got the von affixed to his name ? 
 Not that I care a straw about such things myself," 
 he went on, with a last miserable attempt at playful- 
 ness ; " but people expect one to be au fait of these 
 things : very absurd it is, certainly." 
 
 He felt perfectly aware that he was doing the thing 
 with clumsy hastiness : but the suspense would be 
 borne no longer; he preferred risking everything at 
 one blow. 
 
 When he had said the words, he gained enough 
 courage to raise his eyes and look at her; and then 
 with a new rush that almost drowned the agony of
 
 254 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 suspense, it came over him that he loved her to 
 distraction. 
 
 She did not answer quite at once. Such a question 
 might well need a moment's reflection. Perhaps she 
 could not remember the exact date. The pause was 
 no longer than twenty seconds; but they seemed to 
 him like twenty hours. The fall of Ortega's hammer 
 on the wooden paling yonder was beating time to the 
 throbbings of his heart. 
 
 Eeata drew her hand up out of the water, and 
 watched the drops, as she allowed them to trickle 
 from off her fingers back into the trough. 
 
 " When ? " she repeated, slowly. " Why, never, of 
 course. There is no von affixed to the- Lackenegg 
 name ; no member of the family has, to my know- 
 ledge, ever been raised to the state of nobility, or is 
 ever likely to be so." 
 
 Otto felt as if those dull drops of water from off 
 Eeata's hand had fallen on to him with a chill. He 
 sat without giving any outward sign of agitation, save 
 in the paleness which had overspread his face. The 
 excitement of the last few minutes had suddenly 
 ceased, had died out at the moment when the sus- 
 pense was broken. She had spoken so distinctly, had 
 worded her phrase so clearly, seemed even to have 
 pointed it so directly, that not a chance or hope of 
 a mistake was left to him. His mind was forced to 
 accept the conviction — he could no longer doubt. 
 The question of last night was answered — he was 
 to be a poor man.
 
 A LITTLE SOUVENIR. 255 
 
 Some sort of a phrase he strove to get together — 
 a remark, a question, anything to leave the subject, 
 and not betray his agitation. While he was slowly 
 collecting his thoughts, with a sudden impulse of 
 womanly softness, Eeata turned towards him, and 
 laid her hand into his. 
 
 " Let us talk of other things, Otto," she said, gently. 
 " I have been rather cross to-day, have I not ? And 
 it is so unkind of me on your last day." 
 
 She laid her head on his shoulder. The stable-men 
 were quite forgotten now ; and it was their luck that 
 Ortega had moved out of sight, and was too gravely 
 engrossed by his work to think of spying. 
 
 A delicious thrill dashed through Otto's veins, chas- 
 ing away the chill, stunned feeling. His cares, his 
 anxiety, the sense of his disappointment — all seemed 
 melting away from him like puny spectres in the light 
 of her love ; and as, in the drunkenness of his delight, 
 he looked deep into the depth of her dark eyes, their 
 magic power held him spellbound for the time, — 
 Love, the only sensation of his soul — the knowledge 
 that he loved her with a passion that was almost 
 frenzy, the only consciousness of his mind. 
 
 " Otto, oh when shall we meet asrain ? " she whis- 
 pered, still clinging to him. 
 
 " Soon, my darling — soon. I could not live without 
 you long." 
 
 " And will you love me then as you do now ? Are 
 you quite sure you will. Otto ? " she said, in a trem- 
 bling voice. " Remember you have never been tried,"
 
 256 " what's in a NAME ? " 
 
 she went on, interrupting his protestations. "You 
 have never been away from me since you loved me. 
 You will think of me very much, will you not? 
 Every day, every hour " 
 
 " Every minute," completed Otto, fervently. 
 
 She answered his words with a smile. 
 
 " So will I," she murmured, very softly. 
 
 " Otto," she exclaimed suddenly, raising her head, 
 " you do not think, do you, that I have got shallow 
 feelings ? " 
 
 *' My darling, are you raving ? " he cried ; " what 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 Her eyes were fixed on his face with a look of 
 earnest inquiry, and there was a tear trembling on 
 the lashes. 
 
 " No, I don't think so myself. I hope I am not," 
 clasping her hands together in her lap ; " but they 
 say that Mexicans are shallow, and cannot help it; 
 and I am a Mexican, you know." 
 
 Otto, as he looked at her with that burning light in 
 her eyes, and the quivering of her half-parted lips, 
 thought that you might as well ask a volcano if it 
 were cold, or the ocean if it were dry.
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TWO POLISH PORTRAITS. 
 
 The town of Kzeszolow, in East Galicia, was the 
 
 garrison town of the th Hussars — a place not 
 
 entirely devoid of natural beauty, but offering very 
 few resources of society, or of what is generally untier- 
 stood under the term amusement. 
 
 A range of low well- wooded hills slopes down to a 
 long narrow lake, a German mile in length : a broad, 
 firm dam, shaded with old elm -trees, bounds it just 
 near the outskirts of the town. On the lowest hill a 
 picturesque old monastery overlooks the few scattered 
 streets and the one Place of the town, where tall green 
 poplars stand in irregular little rows and groups 
 between the houses. In all this there is nothing 
 objectionable, and if it had not been for the bottom- 
 less state of roads and streets during half the year, and 
 for the ragged, slipshod Jews who offended your finer 
 perceptions all the year round, Ezeszolow might al- 
 most have been called a pleasant place in spite of its 
 twenty miles' distance from the nearest railway station. 
 
 VOL. L R
 
 258 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 This is the place to which Otto is shortly to return ; 
 towards which, in fact, he is at this moment making 
 his way across the Atlantic. 
 
 Now that the time of his leave was so close npon ex- 
 piring, his comrades and the Ezeszolow world in general 
 began to get aroused to the possibility of his return. 
 Hitherto they had been quite unanimous on the point 
 that Otto would never again make his appearance on 
 the scene ; although they had not quite decided whether 
 his sudden departure had been a necessary flight, or the 
 stepping-stone to some brilliant new position. 
 
 " It is most incomprehensible ! " remarked Langen- 
 feld, one hot July afternoon. " Surely he might have 
 given his friends some notion of what he means to 
 do. He might have sent me a line in answer to my 
 letter" — and Langenfeld twirled his moustache and 
 looked injured, evidently thinking that the unwonted 
 effort of letter-writing on his part might have called 
 forth some response. Langenfeld had ridden out to 
 Snyhinice to pay his respects to Count Przeszechowski's 
 family, and his remarks were addressed to a very tall 
 slight lady, who leant back on a sloping chair, carrying 
 on the conversation rather listlessly. This was Com- 
 tesse Halka, the only daughter of the house. She was 
 very tall, and very slight ; in fact, her tallness would 
 have been a defect, and her slightness would have been 
 meagreness, had it not been that her woman's cunning, 
 which so often supplies the place of artistic percep- 
 tions, had taught her how to disguise these faults. 
 
 Her hair was in colour fair ; not golden, or auburn,
 
 TWO POLISH PORTRAITS. 259 
 
 nor yet yellow — but a pale dead tint, which cannot be 
 called colour, for its chief characteristic is want of colour. 
 
 Her features inclined to sharpness, but were deli- 
 cately cut ; the eyes light grey, clear and transparent, 
 with the clearness and the transparency of glass ; well- 
 shaped eyebrows, which would have been handsome 
 had they not been of the same bleached tint as the 
 hair ; a small aquiline nose, and fine nostrils, which 
 gave to her appearance something of proud high-breed- 
 ing. The mouth was one which ought by rights to 
 have been tightly closed ; but when thus closed the 
 lips appeared too thin, and for this reason Comtesse 
 Halka had taught herself to keep them a trifle apart. 
 
 Her appearance produced on the stranger two im- 
 pressions : the first was of something that had faded 
 slowly, and was still fading slowly ; but, strange to say, 
 the effect was extremely pleasing to the eye. Every- 
 thing had faded softly, harmoniously, in keeping with 
 each other, complexion and hair, and eyes too; for 
 people who had known her some years ago remem- 
 bered a bluer colour in her eyes, which was gone now. 
 The second impression was, that she must have been 
 very beautiful a few years ago ; but this was incorrect. 
 Comtesse Halka was at this moment in her twenty- 
 seventh year, and was fully as good-looking as she had 
 ever been in her prime. It was her grace, and her 
 manner, and her bearing which constituted her beauty ; 
 in some degree also her taste : at twenty she had not 
 acquired the grace, and her taste was not matured. 
 
 Her manner was indeed striking ; it struck by its
 
 260 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 intense calmness. Every movement, every action, 
 every word was as quiet as the workings of some per- 
 fectly regulated piece of mechanism, which nothing 
 could ever disturb. It could not be described as lan- 
 guid, or as phlegmatic — it was too skilfully guided 
 for that ; it was not heaviness either, nor pedantry : 
 there is no word for it but calmness. 
 
 She never spoke loud or quickly ; she never laughed 
 more than the lowest, quietest laugh ; never stepped 
 hurriedly, or moved precipitately. Most people called 
 her unaffected ; but a few said that she only appeared 
 so because she cultivated affectation as a fine art. 
 Perhaps from the fact of having had her education 
 completed out of her country, in a high-class French 
 boarding-school, she was entirely free from the obvious 
 provincial affectations which characterise most of her 
 countrywomen. It stood in her favour certainly that 
 she never dressed too youthfully, or attempted to dis- 
 guise her age. To be sure, any attempt of that kind 
 would have been useless, as everybody knew her age 
 as well as she did herself 
 
 The sight of Comtesse Halka was cooling on a hot 
 summer's day, but chilling on a winter's one. It 
 being in the height of summer now, Langenfeld was 
 refreshed and enchanted. Her appearance to-day was 
 particularly pleasant. She wore a dress of thin dark- 
 blue linen, and in her hair were stuck a few faded 
 corn-flowers, such as Langenfeld had noticed hanging 
 ou the stone crosses at the wayside ; she looked as if 
 she had faded along with the flowers.
 
 TWO POLISH PORTRAITS. 261 
 
 " I am not surprised at Baron Bodenbacli's silence," 
 said Halka, in answer to Langenfeld ; " you could 
 hardly expect him to remember his friends over here." 
 
 She spoke quietly, but the very faintest imaginable 
 tinge of pink had come into her face. 
 
 Langenfeld ground his teeth in despair. " I shall 
 never get her to betray herself," he thought, impa- 
 tiently. " I ought to have taken her more by surprise, 
 and mentioned his name suddenly." 
 
 This was all very well in theory, but more difficult 
 in practice ; for how could he have walked straight up 
 to the lady, and said abruptly, " Do you still think of 
 Bodenbach? and will you be glad when he comes 
 back ? " just in order to see whether she • turns pale 
 or faints ? 
 
 Even this abrupt commencement would most likely 
 have failed in its effect. She always was inscrutable 
 in her serene calmness. 
 
 When quite a young girl she had once signally 
 baffled the curiosity of all the inquisitive eyes and 
 gossiping tongues of the neighbourhood. 
 
 She was engaged to a Count A , a brilliant parti, 
 
 and within a few weeks of her marriage. The Count 
 was challenged in consequence of soine trifling quarrel, 
 and declined the duel on the ground that the matter 
 was not worth fighting about. Within the same hour 
 that Comtesse Halka heard of it, she sent him back 
 her engagement-ring, and this message, " A man who 
 dares not fight shall never be my husband." Thus 
 stung, the Count fought, and carried off a slight
 
 262 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 wound ; but too late to regain his lost bride. While 
 the incident was the talk of the whole capital, Com- 
 tesse Halka appeared that same evening at a grand ball 
 given by the governor. She was dressed with her usual 
 faultless elegance — calm and unconcerned as ever, 
 and seemingly unconscious of the hundreds of prying 
 eyes which devoured her every movement and dis- 
 sected every expression on her face. Whether in later 
 years, when no second such brilliant parti had offered 
 itself, she repented her severity, no one ever knew ; at 
 all events, no word of regret at any time escaped her 
 lips. Two years ago her prospects had undergone a 
 change, when by the sudden death of her two brothers, 
 who perished in a railway accident, she became an 
 heiress; not in a very extensive sense, according to 
 our ideas, but sufficient to make her a prize for most 
 men. 
 
 Certainly Langenfeld might have known that any 
 attempt to surprise her feelings must prove futile. 
 
 '' Most of us think that he won't return at all," he 
 said, fixing his eyes on Halka, with a sort of grim 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Eeally ! " she replied, while with her long white 
 fingers she readjusted one of the loose corn-flowers in 
 her hair. " I should not be surprised if your regiment 
 were right. Will you not have some refreshment, 
 Lieutenant Langenfeld?" she broke off, indicating by 
 a slight change of tone that there had been enough of 
 that subject ; " you ought to be thirsty after the dusty 
 road."
 
 TWO POLISH PORTRAITS. 263 
 
 " If I was in his place " began Langenfeld, im- 
 petuously, disregarding the offer of refreshments. 
 
 The cold surprise in her eyes checked him, and at 
 the same moment he felt an amicable thump on his 
 shoulder, and in the next he was embraced and saluted 
 on both cheeks, after the usual Polish fashion, by a 
 gentleman who joined the group with boisterous cheer- 
 fulness. This gentleman was well known to Langen- 
 feld — well known, indeed, in all that part of Poland. 
 His name was Boradembski, and his age between sixty 
 and sixty -five ; but his hair was still black, and his 
 colour fresh and ruddy. When gentlemen of sixty-five 
 have got black hair, people are usually kind enough to 
 insinuate that it is dyed ; but nobody ever had been 
 heard to hint anything of the kind about Boradembski. 
 There was something so irresistible about his frank 
 countenance, something so convincingly honest about 
 his plain features, and moreover, somethiog so unstudi- 
 ously careless (to put the matter as mildly as possible) 
 about his personal attire, that nobody in their senses 
 would for a moment suspect him of the deceits of 
 dandyism. 
 
 It was merely that his hair, like his mind, refused 
 to grow old. He was an old man, certainly ; the num- 
 ber of his years testified to that, if nothing else did. 
 He made no secret of it, would probably tell you his 
 age in the first five minutes of acquaintance : but it 
 went against the grain to call him an old man; it 
 sounded incongruous — you could not do more than call 
 him an old boy. In stature he was tall, or rather large ;
 
 264 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 everything about him was formed on an enormous 
 scale. His head, if placed on any shoulders but his 
 own, would have appeared gigantic; his feet seemed 
 to lie by the yard on the ground. It was rather trying 
 to nervous or delicate people to shake hands with him ; 
 you felt as if all your bones were getting crushed and 
 broken ; and if you chanced to have a ring on, it re- 
 quired a little self-control to disguise the pain. Bora- 
 dembski's hands had a reputation of their own. It was 
 said of them that they were a remnant of the heroic 
 age, when people used to lift up oxen, knock down 
 towers, or perform other such trifling exploits with 
 their hands. 
 
 There were many stories told about Boradembski's 
 hands; the one most frequently repeated was, that in the 
 Eevolution of 1848, when fighting single-handed, in a 
 desperate position, surrounded by enemies, he had freed 
 himself by seizing in each hand the head of an assail- 
 ant and crashing them together with such force that 
 they both dropped dead.^ 
 
 I have not much more to say about his personal ap- 
 pearance, except that he a little inclined to stoutness, 
 which, however, disappeared in his general largeness. 
 He had black eyes, and a black moustache, and his 
 voice was thick and intensely deep ; not gruff or coarse 
 in any way, but full-toned and good-natured. The 
 wrinkles on his face, too, seemed more to be the puck- 
 ers of good-humour than the lines of age. 
 
 1 A fact.
 
 TWO POLISH POETEAITS. 265 
 
 Nobody had ever heard anybody say an ill-natured 
 word of Boradembski ; and the reason was, that nobody 
 had ever heard Boradembski say an ill-natured word of 
 anybody. He did not pretend to agree with you al- 
 ways, and he was not good at reasoning in his friends' 
 favour, or turning off the subject lightly ; but he would 
 refuse, absolutely and obstinately, to join in the abuse, 
 and to all your arguments would oppose nothing but 
 his unshaken belief that nobody in this world ever 
 really meant harm. Where he did not praise warmly, 
 you might be sure that there was a hitch ; and if he 
 was silent, the individual in question could safely be 
 condemned as a reprobate. 
 
 All that 1 have said just now may possibly give the 
 reader the impression that this gentleman was an 'old 
 fool. It is necessary to state that this impression is 
 erroneous ; for in spite of want of varnish, and a cer- 
 tain simplicity of mind, his good sense was perhaps the 
 soundest, and his judgment the most acute, in all the 
 country. He seemed, in a certain way, to be public 
 property ; he was " tame cat " in every house for miles 
 around, only that cat is not the right expression, for it 
 gives a wrong idea. He was the happiest man, too, 
 for miles around : professing himself perfectly satisfied 
 with all the dispositions of Providence and of the 
 world ; living the life of a gentleman-farmer, in a very 
 small farm which he rented from the rich Prince 
 
 E ; getting up every morning at four o'clock, 
 
 working like a horse all day at the management of his
 
 266 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 few acres ; and then, when a free moment occurred, 
 going off at a rattling pace, in a rickety dogcart, to 
 visit his friends and enjoy himself Often, too, these 
 journeys of his, from which no weather would detain 
 him, were in a way business journeys. If there was a 
 family quarrel, anywhere far and wide, only within 
 reach ; if there was a question about money matters, 
 or a difficulty about love matters, — Boradembski was 
 sent for to settle it ; and he always succeeded in set- 
 tling it, and this sometimes in the gravest cases. 
 There had been one or two instances when considerable 
 sums of money were in dispute, and when going to 
 law seemed inevitable, that both parties by common 
 consent agreed to abide by Boradembski's decision, and 
 professed themselves satisfied with his judgment. He 
 was universal peacemaker and matchmaker to all the 
 country, and godfather to every second child you met. 
 It seemed as if he were too large-hearted to make any 
 diff'erence in his affections ; they embraced everybody 
 indiscriminately, whether strangers he saw for the first 
 time, or intimates he had known for years. His inter- 
 est in everything concerning them was not artificial — 
 just part of his nature. 
 
 " If you were in his place, you were saying, young 
 man, as I came up — why talk of being in any other 
 place than the present one ? " — this with a flourish and 
 wave towards Halka, who, smiling a coldly gracious 
 smile, was moving off'. 
 
 " Come, confess, my son ; I know in whose place you
 
 TWO POLISH PORTRAITS. 267 
 
 would like to be." Then, as Langenfeld muttered 
 somethin incomprehensible, Boradembski, with a 
 world of shrewd humour in his eyes, added, "Look 
 after your friend's interests, young man ; it is time he 
 were back to look after them himself. Never try a 
 woman's patience too far. What if he returns and 
 finds Kreislich in his place?" 
 
 This referred to a momentous passage in Otto's life. 
 Once before this man had taken his place ; and this 
 was the whole secret of the soreness between them — a 
 soreness which had far outlasted the pretext of the 
 moment. It was nothing either tragical or romantic — 
 nothing more than the old vulgar story of a worthless 
 woman, who, having entangled a handsome and impul- 
 sive boy in her alluring nets, when wearied of liis 
 ardent but barren adoration, had deserted him for a 
 more mature and richer captive, who was able to em- 
 phasise his devotion with solid offerings. Young as 
 he was then, Otto had quickly recognised the worth- 
 lessness of his idol ; and the disappointment in itself 
 would not have left a lasting wound but for the sting 
 of humiliation which it carried with it. It was not in 
 his nature to forgive an insult to his vanity — less still 
 an insult which exposed him to the ridicule of his 
 comrades. It was his first practical lesson in the 
 omnipotence of riches, a lesson which his nature 
 disposed him to learn readily; and in learning it he 
 learned a second — hatred and envy of the man who 
 had outdone him.
 
 268 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 Langenfeld did not know the details of this buried 
 history, but he knew the outlines as well as Bora- 
 dembski ; and in his inner mind he acknowledged that 
 the old gentleman was right, and that if the situa- 
 tion he had suggested should come to pass, it would 
 not terminate without some unpleasantness for all 
 people concerned.
 
 269 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 " Ah, why- 
 Should life all labour be ? " 
 
 —The Lotos-Eaters. 
 
 Not a word of tidings from Otto reached his regiment 
 •until a short telegram, dated Krakau, announced *liis 
 immediate arrival. This telegram produced the effect 
 of a small bomb; but mingled with the excitement 
 there was an element of disappointment. Such a tame 
 ending to an expedition which every one had invested 
 with wonder and mystery was a palpable come-down, 
 and there was a prevalent impression that Otto had 
 somehow or other mismanaged the chances offered by 
 Fortune. His , appearance and manner on arriving 
 did not tend to diminish this impression; neither did 
 he seem inclined to satisfy the curiosity which some 
 of his comrades displayed rather broadly. He vol- 
 unteered no information, and answered all questions 
 laconically. 
 
 The original arrangement had been that he was to go 
 home to Steinbuhl for a week or so on landing ; but
 
 270 "what's in a name?" 
 
 the long hours for reflection which he had had leisure 
 for in the sea-voyage had ended by altering this inten- 
 tion. An invincible repugnance kept him from home 
 just then, and a fear lest the secret of his love should 
 be betrayed. Strange faces, or at least indifferent ones, 
 would be the most congenial surroundings at this mo- 
 ment. It would be better to wait a little longer before 
 encountering Arnold's calmly scrutinising gaze. 
 
 On the evening of his arrival Langenfeld said to 
 him, over the supper-table, " I was out at Snyhinice 
 last week, and they all inquired after you ; I suppose 
 you will be going there soon." 
 
 " I have not the slightest intention of ever going 
 there again," was the unexpected reply, given with so 
 much asperity that Langenfeld looked up in surprise 
 from his Bosthraten, wondering what had come over 
 his friend. 
 
 One moment of triumph Otto enjoyed. It was the 
 moment when Maraquita was first led out to be sub- 
 mitted to his comrades' judgment. It was delightful 
 to him to witness their undisguised surprise and loudly- 
 spoken admiration. The sensation was all the pleas- 
 anter from its entire novelty ; for until now Otto had 
 never been in the position of possessing anything 
 which could be a subject of envy to any one. With 
 his keen appreciation of all the amenities and beauties 
 of life, and his still keener appreciation of the wealth 
 which can command them, this had been to him a sore 
 trial. Added to this, he had a genuine love of horses ; 
 and often when some one amongst his comrades, more
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 271 
 
 fortunate than he, was parading a new acquisition, 
 Otto had thought with bitter mortification that his 
 turn would never come. And now it had come so 
 brilliantly. Good horses were scarce, and the money 
 to procure them still scarcer, and it had been long 
 since a horse of Maraquita's stamp had belonged to 
 any one in the regiment. 
 
 " I knew she would make a sensation," he said to 
 himself, triumphantly, a hundred times that forenoon. 
 " How fortunate it is that she is not to be buried alive 
 at Steinbiihl ! " 
 
 Sweeter to him still than the general admiration of 
 the regiment was the triumph of casting his enemy in 
 the shade. Hitherto Captain Kreislich, as the moneyed 
 man of the regiment, had never seen his horses rivalled ; 
 but to-day even he was obliged, half grudgingly, to own 
 that he was outdone. As it was, he strained all his 
 ingenuity to lessen Otto's victory. 
 
 " I am not sure that she is quite the colour I should 
 have chosen myself" Then, as a brighter thought 
 struck him, " But her pedigree ;• how about that ? Are 
 you sure it is all right ? " 
 
 " All right ! Of course it is all right ; but it is not 
 written on paper." 
 
 " No written pedigree ? " inquired the Captain, with 
 a tone of well-expressed disgust in his voice. 
 
 " No written pedigree," repeated Otto, calmly ; *' and 
 I should like to know what use it would be. You 
 have only got to look at her." 
 
 " Oh, of course, of course," said the other, in a calmly
 
 272 "what's in a name?" 
 
 irritating tone ; " I didn't mean that ; but only, you 
 know, in case of selling, it might make a difference." 
 
 " I shall never sell her as long as I live/' said Otto, 
 hotly, as he went up to Maraquita and stroked her 
 glossy neck. He was thinking of things they could 
 not guess at. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," drawled Kreislich ; " but 
 it was only natural, you know, to think that you might 
 have some object of the sort." 
 
 Some passages taken from the letters which passed 
 between Otto and Eeata, and a few extracts from her 
 diary, will be the best illustration at this period. 
 
 At Hamburg Otto had despatched a budget of twelve 
 pages, of which I will only quote the two last. 
 
 "... My darling, now that that wearisome jour- 
 ney is behind me, I feel that I should like to step on 
 to the next ship, and go through it all again, in order 
 to get back to you ; the weariness and the discomfort 
 would be delightful to bear, thinking of my reward at 
 the end. I feel as if I had been a fool, Eeata, to leave 
 you and come back here alone. I ought never to have 
 gone from your side, after once I knew you loved me. 
 What, after all, are all the objections my aunt would 
 have made ? I should have spoken at once, and openly, 
 and brought you home with me as my wife. You do 
 not think me guilty of cowardice, do you, darling, for 
 acting as I did ? And yet I have been a coward ; my 
 love has made a coward of me. I did not dare to risk 
 my happiness at one blow. Eeata, my own beautiful
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 2V3 
 
 Eeata, forgive me ; for my weakness is but the strength 
 of my love. 
 
 " There are reasons which might induce my aunt to 
 oppose my marriage, and she might refuse to come to 
 Europe with you; or, what would be far worse, she 
 might, in the long months you are together, use her in- 
 fluence against me. For these reasons I dared not speak ; 
 and for these reasons you must see how necessary it is 
 that my aunt should not know our secret yet. . . . 
 
 "I tremble when I think of all the chances and 
 accidents of life, and of the distance which lies between 
 us. And again, at moments it seems as if you were so 
 near me. I have only to put up my hand over my eyes, 
 and I can see you before me, as I saw you last, in your 
 white dress, with the great green leaves of the creepers 
 drooping over you ; and those eyes, which it maddens 
 me to think of, filled with tears. . . . 
 
 " You will come, will you not, darling, at Christmas ? 
 I know you will come, but I want you to assure me of 
 it, and tell it me again when you write. . . . 
 
 "Try and keep the old lady in good humour, and 
 make her stick to her promise ; but be discreet, and 
 don't let her suspect what an interest you have in the 
 matter. . . ." 
 
 From Reata to Otto. 
 
 *' July Uh. 
 
 "Dearest Otto, — Do you know that during this 
 last week I have found out something quite new ? 
 Shall I tell you what? I have found out that this 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 274 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 place here, and the prairie, and the forest, even my own 
 forest, can be very dull and lonely. 
 
 " When I think of the time before you came, it seems 
 to me that I was much more easily satisfied than now ; 
 I know that I was quite content with my forest. It is 
 all your fault ; I found that out a few days ago, and I 
 almost felt angry with you for having disturbed my 
 peace. Not for very long, though ; so don't get angry 
 in your turn. I like the change better on the whole. 
 I am not the same Eeata I was five weeks ago ; and oh, 
 Otto, I never, never dreamt that there could be such 
 happiness in the world ! 
 
 " Are you as happy as I am ? Will you swear to me 
 that nothing could add to your happiness at this mo- 
 ment ? And, above all, tell me again and again that 
 you love me only for my sake — that you would not 
 love me a whit more for all the riches of the world. 
 . . . Yesterday in the forest I met such a beautiful 
 beetle on a cactus-leaf; it had red horns and yellow 
 legs, and it reminded me so much of you, — no, don't 
 laugh — there really was something in its expression 
 that was like yours ; but for that I would have taken 
 it home with me. As it was, I had not the heart to 
 rob it of its liberty, so I opened my fingers and let it 
 fly, and it went straight up to the highest branches of 
 the palm-trees, as if it were glad to get released. You 
 will never be glad to get released, will you. Otto ? 
 No, I know you won't. Only that beetle was so like 
 you! . . . 
 
 " Eemember, I must have the photographs you pro-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 275 
 
 niised me ; your own, and your brother's, and your sis- 
 ter's, and your father's. I want to get familiar with 
 their faces before I see them. Tell me all, every word 
 they said when you told them. Were they very much 
 surprised ? or shocked ? or disgusted ? Do they think 
 you foolish ? Do they expect me to be an untamed sav- 
 age ? I may perhaps seem to them a little wild at first ; 
 but really I am not as bad as I look ; and then — oh 
 yes, is not your brother Arnold, in especial, horrified at 
 having a sister-in-law who is beneath him in rank ? 
 You told me he was so very aristocratic in all his ideas. 
 Do you think he will ever be able to get reconciled to 
 me? . . . 
 
 " Do you remember how we disputed that morning 
 about those ballads ? It was before I had a notion 
 that you would ever be anything to me. I Idhd no 
 idea then that you would be my own true knight ; for 
 you are my own true knight, are you not. Otto ? and you 
 would fetch me a whole packet of gloves, wouldn't you, 
 from under the noses of any amount of wild animals ? 
 
 " I think — yes, I am sure — your love for me would 
 have strength to stand a trial. . . . Ortega is stand- 
 ing on his head outside the veranda, waiting for my 
 letter ; so I must wind up, as I think he ought to be 
 
 discouraged. He is going to ride in to E on ' the 
 
 Bony One.' 
 
 " When you write, tell me how often you think of me ; 
 tell me anything about yourself ; tell me how you are 
 looking, what you are doing : I care to hear about it all. 
 Write very, very soon to your own Keata."
 
 276 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 " F,S. — I must just let Ortega stand on his head a 
 little longer, while I put this in. Eemember your 
 photograph must be in full uniform; I insist upon 
 that. Tell me whether Maraquita has stood the jour- 
 ney well. 
 
 " P.P.S — Will your father or Gabrielle write to me' ? 
 I should like it so much." 
 
 Otto to Eeata. 
 
 ^^ August 6ih. 
 
 " My own Angel ! — The sight of your handwriting 
 was like a glimpse of heaven to me ; the first letter 
 from you, Eeata ! How I have sighed for it through 
 all those weary days ! I knew it could not come sooner, 
 in the common course of things; but I was unreason- 
 ably impatient — wanting a token to tell me that my 
 happiness was a reality, not merely a golden dream 
 that had passed. . . . And I am greatly in want 
 of comfort and solacement just at present; we are in 
 the height of our autumn manoeuvres, and, as bad luck 
 would have it, one of the captains has fallen ill sud- 
 denly, and his squadron has been handed over to me 
 for a couple of weeks or so, so that I am as hard- 
 worked as a galley-slave. Fancy going out every 
 morning at six, and being out in the heat of the day, 
 shouting at a lot of idiots, and getting shouted at by 
 still greater idiots ; and then, at half-past eleven, re- 
 turning all hot and dusty to a bad dinner ! And then, 
 when that is over, there are no ' hours of peace ' for me, 
 no pleasant lounging in a hammock ; but I have to
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. S77 
 
 rush off and visit barracks, or write reports, or super- 
 intend the breaking-in of the young horses. Mili- 
 tary life is a very hard one, certainly, in this wretched 
 country; and more so still for a married man. How 
 will you like it, my darling, after we are married, often 
 not seeing me for half the day — sometimes not till 
 the evening? and then my coming home tired and 
 dusty in summer, and tired and muddy in winter, too 
 much worn out to speak even to you ? 
 
 " Dearly as I love you, or rather because I so dearly 
 love you, I sometimes shudder at the notion of bring- 
 ing you into all the worries and hardships of this life, 
 which I have learnt to know so well, but of which you 
 cannot possibly conceive any true idea. How should 
 you, my bright angel, living like an enchanted priitcess 
 in the midst of your palm-tree groves, surrounded with 
 sunshine and flowers, know what I mean when I speak 
 of these things, or guess at the prosaic miseries of a 
 life like mine ? 
 
 " I will go a little further, and say something more ; 
 for I must be open with you, my own and only trea- 
 sure ; and do T not know that our love cannot be shaken 
 by anything ? I had hoped that the provisions in my 
 uncle's will, or, if not, my aunt's generosity, should 
 enable me to leave the army. If this hope was strong 
 at the time I left Europe, it grew tenfold stronger after 
 I became attached to you ; for what man, having won 
 such a treasure, would not like to give up his whole 
 life to the enjoyment of it ? Every moment after the 
 one that makes you mine should be devoted all and
 
 278 "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 
 
 entirely to the happiness of possessing and adoring 
 you. I know now that this cannot be; because the 
 hope I have just referred to has not been fulfilled. 
 
 "As yet I have avoided any references to money 
 matters, or to our prospects of fortune ; but there is no 
 good to be gained by this. I do not know how far you 
 may be aware of the contents of my uncle's will — it is 
 useless to enter into that subject now ; enough to say, 
 that by the provisions therein contained, I will have a 
 yearly income of two thousand florins — a sum suffi- 
 cient to enable a single man to live independently, but 
 which, even when added to your annuity, would, with- 
 out my pay, be too miserable a pittance to enable us 
 to live with any comfort and enjoyment of life. So 
 that, calculate and count as I may, I always return to 
 the same conclusion, and that is, that my remaining in 
 the army is a matter of positive necessity. My miser- 
 able eight hundred florins of pay seem hardly worth 
 considering, but the next year or two must see me 
 captain ; and, humiliating as the thought may be, there 
 is no use in denying that the twelve hundred florins 
 will make some difference in our lives. . . . 
 
 " That round of duties which I find irksome even 
 now, how hard will they seem when I have to leave you 
 for them ! They say that a married officer must choose 
 between being a bad officer or a bad husband : it is an 
 easy choice for me ; rather, a thousand times rather, 
 will I sacrifice every consideration of military duty 
 than neglect the idol which I adore with such passion- 
 ate devotion. . . .
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 279 
 
 "What a number of questions you ask about my 
 family ! And, darling, don't be disappointed at what 
 I am going to say, but I have thought it best, after 
 consideration, not to tell them about our engagement. 
 There are many reasons for this course, some reasons 
 which I cannot enter on with you at present. Let it 
 remain a secret till the time when you come home 
 with my aunt, and then any objection which could 
 possibly be raised must vanish of itself when they 
 see you. . . . 
 
 " In the midst of my fatigues and worries, a moment- 
 ary triumph came to brighten me the other day. Mara- 
 quita, who has made quite a sensation in the regiment, 
 was marked out by attention from high quarters. We 
 were getting reviewed by the commanding - gefieral 
 
 T , one of the most distinguished officers of our 
 
 cavalry ; and his practised eye was at once attracted 
 by Maraquita. He sent for me immediately after the 
 review, and asked me no end of questions about her, 
 and finally asked if I would part with her. He was 
 very much in earnest, and pressed me on the point, 
 going as far as two thousand florins in his offers, which 
 is a fabulous sum to give for a horse here. I think 
 the others all thought me mad for refusing ; but how 
 could I dream of parting with anything that was 
 your gift ? For I will consider her your gift ; I cannot 
 think of it in any other way. Was it not by your per- 
 suasion that my aunt consented to make her over to me, 
 instead of to Arnold? And, by the by, now that I 
 think of it, it is very lucky that that plan was changed ;
 
 280 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 for I am almost sure that Maraquita would be too light 
 to carry him well. She is perfectly up to my weight ; 
 but you know I told you that Arnold is a different build 
 altogether — quite a heavy-dragoon stamp of man. . . .'' 
 
 Beata to Otto. 
 
 ''September ISth, 
 
 "My own Otto!— What is the use of asking me 
 not to be disappointed ? Of course I am disappointed, 
 horribly disappointed, at your not telling your family. 
 I had looked forward so much to hearing what they 
 said, and I had half hoped for a letter from some of 
 them. 
 
 " I didn't like your letter very much this time ; in 
 fact, it put me into a rage, but I won't speak about 
 that just now. The photographs I liked more ; you 
 know I have seen very few photographs at all, and 
 these were different from common ones to me. I had 
 thought about them so much, and about what their 
 faces would be like, that I had got pictures in my 
 mind ; and quite wrong ones it turns out now. Your 
 father is very unlike my idea ; there is a great resem- 
 blance to you ; and now that I have seen his face, I 
 think I quite understand his writing all that about 
 withered roses and foaming torrents. 
 
 " Gabrielle's photograph frightened me ; she looks 
 so delicate, like a figure of transparent china you 
 can almost see through. Then comes your heavy- 
 dragoon brother; and there I was not so much mis-
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 281 
 
 taken. His eyebrows are very bushy, and he has too 
 much the air of a high-nosed aristocrat; but for all 
 that I like him — I like him very much. There is 
 something of grandness in his face, which I don't know 
 how to explain. 
 
 " Your photograph I nearly burnt, after I had looked 
 at it ; not because it is bad, or unlike you — it is like 
 you to a certain extent — but because it is not good 
 enough for you. You are much better-looking than 
 that ; you were handsomer, even at the time you had 
 that horrid beard. I ought not to have asked for your 
 photograph at all ; no photograph will ever make you 
 look like the picture in my memory. I do not like 
 this face on paper, which will not look at me, or smile 
 at me, in the way you used to do. . . . 
 
 " One of the things in your letter which put me into 
 a rage was all those complaints about having much to 
 do, and about riding and shouting, and coming home 
 dusty. No, Otto, don't frown — I can see you frowning 
 and biting your lip across all the oceans and the lands 
 between us ; but I really am angry, and I mean to tell 
 you so. I think a soldier's calling is the highest and 
 the noblest one in the world ; if I were a man I would 
 be a soldier myself ; and how can you talk about shed- 
 ding blood, and getting shot for your country, if you 
 go on complaining about such miserable trifles ? " 
 
 (" I'll be hanged if I ever was fool enough to talk 
 about shedding my blood ! " had been Otto's comment 
 on reading this passage.) 
 
 " I can't pity you, even it I tried ever so hard, about
 
 282 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 all those things you talk about. I see nothing dread- 
 ful in going out at six, or in coming back at half-past 
 eleven; I can imagine nothing more delightful than 
 being five hours in the saddle ; it is the very thing I 
 should do from choice myself. Neither do I like your 
 theory about bad husbands and bad officers; it is a 
 fallacy. Of course you shall be a good husband ; but 
 you shall certainly not be a bad officer — I could not 
 stand that. And I mean to be an excellent officer's 
 wife. What do you take me for, Otto ? What sort 
 of metal do you think I am made of, not to be proof 
 against such miserable little annoyances, which you 
 yourself call petty ? 
 
 " Oh, you don't know me ; I could do so much, I 
 could sacrifice everything I care for, for the man I 
 love. And I love you, my darling Otto — I love you ; 
 and I have never loved any one else in this world — 
 except, of course, Ficha and the Giraffe. . . . 
 
 " I don't like hearing a man complain of things 
 which should be beneath .his notice ; he ought to put 
 up with very much rather than that. But now, when 
 I think of it, I should not like you to act upon this 
 principle ; for then you would not tell me everything 
 you feel, and that would not do at all. . . . 
 
 " I may not have very much idea about the value of 
 money — you have told me so so often that I must be- 
 lieve you ; but yet I do think of that sometimes, and 
 when I said just now that I mean to be a good officer's 
 wife I was not talking vaguely. Why should we not 
 live and be happy upon three thousand florins ? I am
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 283 
 
 sure lots of people do. As long as I am sure of your 
 love, it would take much less to make me liappy, I 
 know. . . . 
 
 " I wonder whether your country will be very differ- 
 ent from what I expect. You have told me a great deal 
 about it ; but some of my ideas are sure to be wrong. 
 There are moments when I feel a sort of strange dread 
 at leaving this land. 
 
 " The other day, in an old book of Mr Boden's, I 
 came across a Mexican tale of a palm-tree, which was 
 taken to Europe and planted in the soil there ; but it 
 missed the hot sun, and would not grow, but drooped, 
 and withered away till it was dead. 
 
 " Might I not wither like that palm-tree ? I know 
 what you will say ; that I am not to take foolish no- 
 tions into my head — and I will not, if I can help it. 
 It was only a fancy. . . . 
 
 " Your aunt cannot write to you — I cannot even get 
 her to dictate a letter ; indeed she is not very strong. 
 You can explain this to your father and brother in case 
 they should be surprised at her silence. 
 
 " I have something else to say too ; perhaps I ought 
 to have begun with it. She will not be able to go to 
 Europe in winter, as had been arranged — it is her 
 health, and also other reasons; and oh. Otto, if she 
 does not go, how can I ? How can I come to you at 
 the time we had settled? It would be hardly three 
 months off now, if everything had remained as we had 
 planned it ; but it has not remained. 
 
 " I know how this will grieve you, Otto, for you have
 
 284 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 been counting the weeks till my coming ; but it is 
 quite, quite impossible — at least quite impossible for the 
 Giraffe to come ; and I suppose I could not come alone. 
 Of course, if you wished it very much, I could go to 
 Europe by myself; but perhaps this would not be 
 quite a proper proceeding, would it? It is difficult 
 for me to judge about this ; you know how ignorant 
 I am about all your forms and customs. It is for 
 you to decide, and I leave everything in your hands. 
 
 " I am very much afraid that you will find it wiser 
 for us to wait. The Giraffe might possibly come next 
 autumn ; but very likely only the following Christ- 
 mas. So if you do not think that I can come home 
 alone, we must make up our minds to put off every- 
 thing till then. It will be a year, more than a year, 
 most probably — a long, long time to wait ! Must we 
 wait, Otto ? Eemember, I leave everything in your 
 hands. 
 
 " When will your answer come ? It is stupid of 
 me to ask, for I know it cannot come for eight weeks ; 
 and during all those eight weeks I will not know 
 whether I am to see you very soon, or not for another 
 year. . . ." 
 
 Eeata's diary has been casually referred to once pre- 
 viously ; and before the reader is allowed to penetrate 
 into its mysteries, it is absolutely necessary to give him 
 a brief sketch of this extraordinary volume. I say it 
 is necessary, because no one uninitiated could form 
 anything like a true idea of what it was like.
 
 COKKESPONDENCE. 285 
 
 To most rational people, a young lady's diary — and 
 more so still, an engaged young lady's diary — is a thing 
 of intense weariness ; the concentrated essence of in- 
 sipid sentiment, silly or overstrained, according to the 
 character of the writer, which only the blessed secrecy 
 enveloping it prevents from becoming a social inflic- 
 tion — something to be shuddered at in theory, skipped 
 in novels, and flown from in real life. 
 
 And yet, reader, I have the courage to give here ex- 
 tracts from a young lady's diary — an engaged young 
 lady's diary — and the audacity to ask that you should 
 not skip them. 
 
 Eeata's diary was anything but a diary; it had none 
 of the characteristics of a diary, and it certainly was 
 conducted on principles which diaries in general hTive 
 little to do with. Perhaps it might be called a scrap- 
 book with more correctness ; but if the truth must be 
 told, its original vocation had been that of a volume of 
 chronological tables, which must once have been the 
 property of the Giraffe in her girlish days, for it bore 
 the name of Olivia Bodenbach on the first page, and a 
 date of some thirty-six years back. Eeata had come 
 across the volume lying by in a corner, neglected and 
 covered with dust, and had taken possession of it for 
 her own purposes. There were titles written, and dates 
 marked, and columns drawn on most of the pages, and 
 five or six of the chronological tables were on the 
 verge of completion — or rather, had once been on the 
 verge of completion ; for the reigning sovereigns whose 
 names were to have figured on these pages had little
 
 286 " what's in a NAME 1 " 
 
 chance now of ever coming into their rights. It was a 
 big fat book, massively bound in dark-green leather, 
 rather the worse for wear and tear and a good deal of 
 knocking about the world, but looking as if it would 
 take a good deal more knocking about before it would 
 consent to fall to pieces. The inside was about half- 
 full at the time I write ; the blank pages opposite the 
 historical tables were scribbled and sketched upon, or 
 had photographs or prints or dried flowers pasted on 
 them. There were jottings inside the columns, and 
 impertinent little outlines of Ficha's profile intruding 
 themselves on to the very names of kings and redoubt- 
 able warriors. 
 
 Into this book Eeata was accustomed, at long inter- 
 vals, to write down some of her ideas — the frequency 
 of such occurrences being usually regulated more by 
 rainy days and unemployed evenings than by the im- 
 portance of the events to be recorded. It had been so 
 at least until lately ; but during the last three months, 
 and especially since her separation from Otto, Eeata, 
 experiencing in her solitude a greater need of compan- 
 ionship, had had recourse to her scrap-book much more 
 frequently. As said before, these scribblings, and her 
 arrangements generally, were done as a rule with utter 
 disregard of the kings and warriors ; but now and then, 
 these first possessors of the soil, encroached upon and 
 disregarded as they were, would weave themselves, 
 sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, into 
 her written thoughts. 
 
 Here was Otto's photograph opposite to the name of
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 287 
 
 Bayard, and the battle of Eebec, 1524; and under it, 
 written in a bold, proud hand, " My chevalier sans ;peiir 
 et sans reprochey 
 
 The other photographs she had stuck in wherever 
 there was a vacant place; and fate had bestowed 
 Arnold next to the Massacre of St Bartholomew, while 
 Gabrielle and her father had found places among the 
 " chief ornaments of the Church under Henri IVT 
 
 The rest of the column was filled up with writing. 
 
 ** September 18th. 
 
 " I thought I would have no peace till that lettei? 
 was gone ; and now that it is gone, I should like to 
 have it back. If Ortega had not been so precipitate I 
 might have had it back ; how often have I told Bim 
 not to gallop down that steep rocky road ! 
 
 "I would have torn open the letter again, and 
 stroked out half I have said, and told him instead that 
 I will come to Europe at any price, rather than put off 
 his happiness and mine. My own Otto ! My poor 
 Otto ! I have been too hard upon him. I will not see 
 his face when he reads it, but I know so well how dis- 
 appointed he will look. Not exactly disappointed 
 either — that is not the right word; for he never will 
 accede to my proposal. How angry he will be with 
 me for having even thought or dreamt that it was pos- 
 sible ! I know him so well that I could almost guess 
 the words of his answer. I will just put them down, 
 to show him some day how clever I am : — 
 
 '•' ' My one Treasure and only Love ! — How can you
 
 288 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 suggest such barbarous ideas ? Put off our marriage 
 for a year ! Never while my heart beats. Have I not 
 told you that the time without you is an aching void ? 
 how could I live through it if it were prolonged ? 
 
 " ' No, a thousand times no; you belong to me, Eeata, 
 and I claim you. Perish the squeamish convention- 
 alities of civilised countries ! Come to me, my adored 
 angel ; I and my whole family shall wait for you at 
 the port, and there, morning, noon, and night, we will 
 pray on our bended knees that the ship which carries 
 my treasure may be safely guided ! 
 
 " ' But if you shrink from the lonely journey, breathe 
 but one word, and I will rush across the ocean to your 
 feet ! I shall claim you, I shall carry you off ; but I 
 will not consent to wait — not one day, not one hour, 
 not one minute, Eeata ! ' &c., &c. . . . 
 
 "Not a moment of peace or quiet till his answer 
 comes. I feel so dreadfully, so horribly anxious ! What 
 will he say ? No use in composing answers ; I must 
 see it in his own hand before I am at peace. . . . 
 
 *' Will he be true to me ? It must be a hard trial 
 for any man's constancy, to choose between me and a 
 fortune. He thinks I don't know; he little dreams 
 that I know every line of the will better than he does 
 himself. . . . And he is so afraid of my telling the 
 Giraffe ! What would he say if he knew that I had 
 told her long ago ? Poor Giraffe ! He does not know 
 what a friend to his interests he has in her — the very 
 best that could be. . . . 
 
 " I wonder if I am doing wronoj ! Oh that I could
 
 COEKESPONDENCE. 289 
 
 begin all over again ! These mysteries, these myster- 
 ies ! ... I will not draw back. . . . Happy 
 poverty ! how I bless you ! — the only true test of a 
 man's love. But I do not doubt his love ; it is wicked 
 of me to think such thoughts. I deserve to lose him ; 
 but I will not lose him, I cannot lose him. He will 
 be true to me ; my own poor Otto, how could I doubt 
 him ? My own chevalier, sans jpeur et sans reproche.'' 
 
 Here the writing was broken off hastily, and a sus- 
 picious round mark had fallen on the paper, blotting 
 out the record of Mazarin's death in 1661. 
 
 Perhaps a tear consecrated to the great statesman's 
 memory. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 290 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 
 
 The bond that links our souls together ; 
 Will it last through stormy weather? " 
 
 — A. Procter. 
 
 The four letters from which passages have been quoted 
 were of course not the only ones which during these 
 three months had passed between the Bodenbachs and 
 Mexico. Besides two letters from the old Baron to hi& 
 " dearest "and most beloved cousin Olivia," there had 
 been one from Arnold to his aunt. No direct answers 
 had come to any of these ; only a message through 
 Otto, who wrote, saying that he had heard from his 
 aunt, and that she sent excuses for her silence, under 
 the plea of various somewhat incongruous reasons. 
 He gave no more definite explanation of how and when 
 exactly he had heard from Mexico, entirely confining 
 himself to vague messages. 
 
 In his first letter from Ezeszolow, he had written a 
 pretty full account of his visit — that is to say, of what 
 he meant to let them know of his visit ; and he had
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 291 
 
 also announced to them the fact that his aunt intended 
 to pass the following Christmas in Europe. All this 
 was not very satisfactory, however, and the famil}^ at 
 Steinbuhl were not satisfied. Arnold, in especial, who 
 from the first had been inclined to view the Mexican 
 connection with mistrust, had an undefined feeling that 
 something was being kept back from them. What, he 
 could not imagine. It could hardly be anything about 
 the money ; for that point was made perfectly clear in 
 the most satisfactory manner : first, by the evidence 
 of the will, which no one could doubt, and which, 
 soon after Otto's return, had been forwarded to Eur- 
 ope by the firm of Le Vendeur & Co. ; and secondly, 
 by the due remittance of the sums now due to Arnold 
 and Otto, as being of age, and a year having elapeed 
 since Maximilian Bodenbach's death, as well as the 
 ten thousand florins legacy to the old Baron. About 
 the larger sum, too, the interest of which was to be 
 theirs under that one condition which the reader is 
 acquainted with, there could be no earthly ground for 
 entertaining doubts. Nothing could be more distinct 
 and to the point. 
 
 " But why," reasoned Arnold, " does my aunt keep 
 so strangely aloof from any references to this matter ; 
 shirking correspondence with us, almost as if wanting 
 to disclaim connection with the whole business ? " 
 
 When Otto, on his return from Mexico, instead of at 
 Once presenting himself before his eagerly-expectant 
 family, according to the original arrangement, buried 
 himself unseen in his Polish station, there had been, as
 
 292 "what's m A NAME?" 
 
 was only natural, great discomposure and displeasure 
 at Steinbiihl. 
 
 " So thoughtless of Otto," said the old Baron, fret- 
 fully ; " when he knew that I wanted to ask him so 
 many things about Olivia, and whether she ever alluded 
 to the picnic with the donkeys." 
 
 " So unkind of Otto," said Gabrielle, sobbing ; " and 
 he promised to bring me flower-seeds and palm-leaves." 
 
 Arnold did not say what he thought, but he was 
 himself much provoked at this ridiculous idea of Otto's, 
 and hurt by what seemed to him a want of family 
 affection and of brotherly confidence. 
 
 Gradually, however, these different feelings calmed 
 down, and were superseded by quiet exultation at the 
 successful issue of the visit ; and gradually also they 
 began to lose their first keen interest in the personality 
 of the Mexican aunt, once regarded as the possible 
 bequeather of fortunes — but who, as it appeared now, 
 was powerless. Should she die to-morrow, her death 
 could not in any possible manner influence them ma- 
 terially, and her immense riches must pass into strange 
 hands. Aunt Olivia had, it is true, held out hopes of 
 spending the next Christmas with them at Steinbuhl ; 
 and the old Baron did write two affectionate letters, 
 pressing his dear cousin to be true to her promise : but 
 he also was discouraged by her continued silence. 
 
 In spite of this minor disappointment. Baron Wal- 
 ther was perhaps the one of the family who got the 
 most happiness out of the whole transaction. He had 
 struggled so long with poverty, and had been for so
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 293 
 
 many years a prey to anxiety on his children's account, 
 that this sudden lightening of all his cares went near 
 to upset his mind with delight. He did not want 
 riches for himself; but he wanted to die knowing that 
 his children would not starve. He thoroughly ap- 
 proved of uncle Max's conditions ; they coincided 
 perfectly with his own principles. He had married a 
 hourgeoise, it is true, for the sake of money, but only to 
 obey his father and redeem their fortunes; now his 
 sons, more lucky than himself, would gain a fortune 
 by marrying their equals. And then, how beautifully 
 everything fitted to existing circumstances ! Arnold 
 would marry Hermine, and Otto would marry Com- 
 tesse Halka, and Gabrielle in her turn would marry 
 some delightful Baron or Count, and everybody wmild 
 be happy. 
 
 Arnold also was highly satisfied with his uncle's 
 condition, and more thoroughly than anybody else, en- 
 dorsed his sentiments about purity of blood, &c. Of 
 course for him the condition was superfluous ; for 
 even had not habit and inclination pointed to Hermine 
 as the only woman he could think of as his wife, he 
 never could have dreamt of bestowing himself upon 
 any one his inferior in rank. About Otto, his mind 
 was not quite easy — for Otto never had professed any 
 pride of blood; and from what Arnold knew of his 
 brother, he felt certain that those sentiments which he 
 himself admired in uncle Max, would not fail to excite 
 Otto's disgust. Of course, should Otto remain un- 
 married, the fortune would be his equally ; but here
 
 294 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 again Arnold knew his brother too well. He was not 
 the man to remain a bachelor; he had been in love 
 half-a-dozen times, and was certain not to keep clear 
 of matrimony for long. Therefore, when two months 
 and a half had passed since his brother's return, and 
 there had been no signs forthcoming of the advance- 
 ment of Otto's suit, his letters never even mentioning 
 the name of Comtesse Halka, Arnold became anxious, 
 and took fright that his brother was playing fast and 
 loose with the Polish heiress. 
 
 About the beginning of October he expressed some 
 of these fears in a conversation he had with Hermine 
 one sunny day, in the old summer-house. 
 
 Between these two the friendship was growing 
 steadily and surely day by day. On her side calm 
 adoration, and quiet expectancy of a happiness that 
 could not fail to come ; on his, an ever-increasing feel- 
 ing of reliance, which promised well for their future 
 happiness. All the same, the change in his fortunes 
 did not for a moment move him to accelerate the time 
 of his engagement. Arnold had an intense dislike to 
 changing his mind upon any point, when once made up. 
 He had said it was to be in June, and in June it should 
 be ; not a month sooner, or all his ideas would be upset. 
 
 On this October afternoon Hermine had inquired 
 what news there had been in Otto's letter of the morn- 
 ing; and Arnold, after answering her questions, had 
 looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I 
 am not quite easy, though, about him ; his letters lately 
 have not satisfied me."
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 295 
 
 " Why, is there anything to make you uneasy in his 
 letters ? " she had asked. 
 
 " It is what isn't in his letters that makes me uneasy/' 
 
 Hermine's eyes had opened wide at this enigmatical 
 explanation; and then Arnold had expounded his 
 views on the subject of the Polish Comtesse. 
 
 " I can't make out what he is waiting for, or why 
 he is so reticent about his own plans. He has not 
 breathed a word of his intentions — whether he means 
 to quit the service at once, or to continue in the army ; 
 he has independent means enough now to live without 
 his pay," Arnold had continued, winding up by say- 
 ing that his mind would never thoroughly be at rest 
 until Otto was safely established in the matrimonial 
 state. 
 
 " Eiches have got a powerful charm for him ; but 
 Otto's is a character which no human being on earth 
 can count upon," he had gone on to say. " You know 
 Otto ; but I don't think you know him as I do. He is 
 anything but a strong character, and yet one which is 
 most difficult to manage ; and he is difficult to manage 
 because he is so easy to influence. I don't know how 
 to define it differently." 
 
 Arnold had stood with his heavy eyebrows drawn 
 together, and a distant look in his eyes, as if striving 
 to give shape to his own meaning, or reading down his 
 thoughts from off the far-off clouds — H ermine gazing 
 up at him with boundless faith in every word, he said, 
 but not half grasping this delineation of his brothef s 
 character.
 
 296 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 " You see," he had gone on, " Otto is formed on a 
 wrong principle altogether for a man ; he has the ner- 
 vous sensibility of a woman. It has been so with him 
 since he was a child — constitutional, I suppose ; for he 
 has had the same bringing up that I have. He is too 
 impressionable to outward things ; too easily swayed 
 by the circumstances of the moment ; too keenly alive 
 to the influence of beauty, under whatever shape it 
 takes for the time. Put him in the hands of a pretty 
 woman, and he is wax ; she can do with him what she 
 likes — as long as she holds him : but let him be in the 
 hand of a clever woman, and she will make him into 
 clay, by knowing how to preserve the impression when 
 once made. I don't know if you can quite grasp my 
 meaning, Hermine ? " 
 
 Hermine had not grasped his meaning at all, but 
 had smiled placidly, allowing him to proceed. 
 
 "Otto must have a clever wife — a woman with 
 some spirit, who knows how to manage him. Not at 
 all what would suit me ; I can't put up with those 
 independent women who are always thinking and 
 acting for themselves ; but for him it is a positive 
 necessity : and I think that Comtesse Halka, with 
 all her calmness, is just the right sort of woman to 
 guide him." 
 
 Here Arnold, having worked himself into a state of 
 considerable excitement, had begun pacing about in a 
 way which made the old deal flooring of the summer- 
 house creak under his tread, and its old rickety roof 
 shake ov^r his head; and, after three or four turns,
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 297 
 
 had sat down again and explained to Hermine, for 
 the fourth time that afternoon; that he would never 
 know a moment's peace until Otto had put it out 
 of his own power to go against that all - important 
 clause in uncle Max's will, by making a suitable 
 marriage. From which it will be seen that Hermine 
 had already been made acquainted with the terms of 
 the will. 
 
 " Does Otto care for the Oomtesse ? " she had asked 
 in her matter-of-fact way. 
 
 Care for her ! quite a new view of the question — an 
 irrelevant one, which Arnold had never considered. 
 
 Why will women always come out with that ques- 
 tion first, when there is the talk of a marriage 1 
 
 Arnold knew that his brother had cared for vartous 
 women in turns — some of whom he had wanted, and 
 some of whom he had not wanted to marry; but it 
 never occurred to him that love was at all a necessity in 
 marrying. Therefore he had replied something to the 
 effect that he did not suppose Otto was fool enough not 
 to care for a person so evidently cut out for him. " Of 
 course," Arnold had added, " one cannot expect people 
 who have known each other for only two years, to care 
 for each other as much as those who have been inti- 
 mate all their lives." 
 
 At this Hermine had coloured, and looked down 
 without answering. 
 
 The result of this conversation was, that Arnold, 
 after taking another day to think over the matter, 
 came to the conclusion that his duty as an elder
 
 298 "what's in a NAME?" 
 
 brother demanded of him to write to Otto and touch 
 him up. A brotherly word at the right moment might 
 serve to push on matters wonderfully. 
 
 This letter reached Otto by the same post which 
 brought to him that second one from Eeata, which has 
 already been given. His brother's he tossed aside, and 
 hers he opened eagerly. There were signs of great 
 disturbance on his face as he ran through its contents ; 
 but whether of anger, grief, or doubt, was not clear. 
 He exclaimed several times, he shifted his position, he 
 sprang up at last and began walking up and down. 
 Then, when he had grown a little quieter, he read his 
 brother's letter, and then he leant his head on his 
 hands, thinking deeply. 
 
 Why must these two things come together ? Un- 
 pleasant things always do. These two letters — the one 
 a blow, the other a bore. Yes, Arnold was a decided 
 bore. Why could he not leave alone things he knew 
 nothing about ? Arnold always had an inclination to 
 preach and give good advice, and Otto had no patience 
 for good advice. What was all this he said now ? and 
 Otto took up the letter again and read : — 
 
 " You won't mind my speaking openly, I hope ; but 
 I cannot imagine why you should go on trailing out 
 the matter for so long — ever since last winter. There 
 can be no reason for postponement : the Comtesse is 
 old enough to know her own mind ; and now, with your 
 altered prospects, there is no need of fearing a refusal, 
 as might before have been the case. I can see that 
 my father counts upon your marriage as a certainty,
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 299 
 
 aDd looks for the announcement in each of your letters. 
 I cannot think what is keeping you back." 
 
 " I should think he cannot," Otto remarked aloud, 
 half impatiently. 
 
 " There is nobody I know " — the letter went on — 
 " who is more perfectly suited to you than the Com- 
 tesse : her education and refinement are just such as you 
 look for in a woman ; besides which, she is clever and 
 eminently high-bred, — the very woman to make you 
 happy." 
 
 Otto passed his hand over his forehead. "Ah ! it is easy 
 for him to talk ; he has not seen her, that other woman ! " 
 
 The letter went on : — 
 
 " It certainly seems as if good-luck had come to our 
 family at last. Fortunate, is it not, that uncle M^x 
 did not think of inventing harder conditions ? Don't 
 you remember that conversation we had in the Cafe 
 Schaum ? You were very anxious to leave the army 
 then, and now you can have your wish, and most of 
 your other wishes will be fulfilled too. 
 
 " Let me advise you again to make haste. Why 
 should not everything be settled before winter? so 
 that you should be able to escape the drudgery of win- 
 ter service, which I know you so much dislike." 
 
 Otto put down the paper, and burst into a loud 
 laugh. Not a pleasant laugh to listen to, nor sugges- 
 tive of merriment; rather I should call it a dreary 
 laugh, if such an expression is allowable. 
 
 When he had done laughing, he commenced abusing 
 his brother.
 
 300 " what's m A NAME ? " 
 
 " So unfeeling of Arnold, such want of tact ; posi- 
 tively blockheaded ! harrowing me by these pictures. 
 Bad enough already to lose a fortune like that ; but 
 a fellow does not always want to be reminded of it. 
 All very well for him ; he will marry his great heavy 
 Hermine, and get all his money, and doesn't care a 
 hang whether I and Eeata will be beggars ! " 
 
 Then came another mood. The force of logic began 
 regaining some ground in his mind, making him more 
 just towards his brother. After all, Arnold was not 
 quite as blockheaded as at 'first sight appeared. 
 
 " Supposing, for argument's sake, that I had not 
 gone to Mexico ; and if it had not been for those three 
 thousand florins, Arnold would have gone. There 
 would have been no danger of a cold fellow like him 
 falling in love with her. I never would have met that 
 adorable being; and then, I daresay, I might have 
 been content with Halka. In that case I should have 
 cut the army at once, and gone to live at Vienna, and 
 enjoyed life a little. But having once seen her, and 
 being the happy man who has gained her love, every- 
 thing else seems a trifle in comparison. It is not a 
 trifle, though," Otto said aloud, in an angry tone, as 
 if disputing the point with some one, " to lose a for- 
 tune' of a hundred and seventy thousand florins !" 
 
 The worst of it was, that Arnold would not let him- 
 self be quieted easily. Having once got this idea into 
 his head, he would be certain to return to the charge ; 
 and how make him hold his tongue, and yet remain 
 unsuspicious ? Of course, to begin with, the letter can
 
 • THE SKETCH-BOOK. 301 
 
 remain unanswered for a month ; but after that, what? 
 For Otto was resolved to maintain the secrecy as long 
 as possible. There was something in his nature which 
 made him shrink from anything disturbing, and the 
 first word he let fall of his engagement must neces- 
 sarily provoke a great disturbance. If he was to be a 
 victim to his grand-uncle's ridiculous ideas about race, 
 at least let him have peace and quiet till the moment 
 came. Supposing he were now to say to his family, 
 " I am going to marry a girl who is not of noble birth, 
 and therefore I am going to give up my fortune," 
 peace would be at an end for him. There would be 
 his father entreating, and being plaintive ; there would 
 be Arnold reasoning, and Gabrielle crying, without 
 knowing what it was all about : in short, there they 
 would all be worrying him out of his senses, and mak- 
 ing him feel his sacrifice with tenfold keenness. Yes, 
 the moment of disclosure would be a very stormy one, 
 he knew, and he shuddered at the prospect. It was 
 not far off now ; at least, so it had seemed until to-day 
 — until this letter from Keata. What if he were to 
 yield to reason, and consent to the delay she suggested? 
 It would be procrastination of his happiness, but also 
 of many worries ; and Otto loved to put off worries. 
 Who could tell what might not turn up in a year ? A 
 year was a long time, as Eeata said ; and here Otto 
 sighed heavily, and taking up her letter with a sudden 
 impulse, kissed it passionately. 
 
 For two days many thoughts worked and fermented 
 in his mind, and on the third he wrote this answer : —
 
 302 . " what's in a name ? " 
 
 *' October 20th. 
 
 "My deaeest, — I have taken two days to consider 
 what you tell me. I looked at the matter in every 
 light, and the conclusion I have come to is, I think, 
 the best. 
 
 " Yes, my darling, I fear that you are right. I did 
 not want to see it at first, but reflection has made me 
 wiser. There is no help for it but to defer our happi- 
 ness, and to resign ourselves with patience to a longer 
 separation than we had at first contemplated. 
 
 " Of course you could not come alone. It would be 
 very disagreeable, and even highly improper. I could 
 not stand the thought that you should be exposed to 
 the annoyances of a long sea- voyage alone. You do 
 not realise the unpleasant accidents which you,, by 
 your youth and beauty, might be exposed to. As for 
 me, you cannot expect me to come. I have told you 
 how difficult it is to get more leave at present ; and 
 even should I succeed in obtaining it, you, my darling, 
 would be the last to wish that I should take advantage 
 of it, when I tell you that it would in most likelihood 
 injure my promotion — a thing I could not afford to do. 
 Besides, you know, Eeata, I am, alas ! a poor man ; and 
 although the generosity of my aunt spared me the ex- 
 pense of last journey, it is not likely or fair to expect 
 that she should do so again, especially as I more than 
 suspect that she will be against the object of my com- 
 ing. I could not blame her for it either ; her opposi- 
 tion would be no more than what I must make up my 
 mind to expect from all my relations.
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 303 
 
 " Patience, my own Eeata — patience. It is a hard 
 word, and I feel it as hardly as you do ; but, as you 
 say, it is the wisest course. 
 
 " Everything points this way. Who knows whether 
 in a year my prospects may not brighten ? and at any 
 rate I will, in a not much longer space of time, gain 
 my rank of captain, as it seems that I am destined not 
 to quit this wretched service. Possibly, also, my pro- 
 motion may bring a change of station, and cast me in 
 a place where life will be a little more endurable than 
 here. . . . The recollection of you will be the only 
 thing to lighten the heavy time of work. You will 
 think of me daily, will you not, my darling ? And 
 you will let me hear from you by every mail. . . . 
 I think I can easily explain what you call the grandeur 
 in Arnold's face ; you would soon lose that impression 
 if you knew him as well as I do. It all consists in his 
 bushy eyebrows and beard. About his marriage, I be- 
 lieve it is to be some time or other next summer — 
 about June or so. The engagement is not declared, 
 but my father wrote to me something of the sort." 
 
 Otto carried this letter to the post himself. He was 
 very careful to prevent any suspicions arising amongst 
 his comrades, and therefore he preferred that they 
 should not know how often he wrote to Mexico. 
 
 As he was on his way back he was hailed across the 
 Place by a red-faced lieutenant, who rejoiced in the 
 unmelodious name of Schweiner. What Schweiner 
 wanted at this particular moment was a book of mili-
 
 304 "what's in a name?" 
 
 tary regulations, entitled ' Praktischer Leitfaden zu der 
 richtigen Behandlung des rohen Eecruten/ and be- 
 longing to a class of military literature which every 
 Austrian officer is supposed to have at his finger-ends. 
 
 Schweiner explained to Otto, as he joined him, that 
 his own copy of the work had been severely mutilated 
 and rendered illegible by repeated w^orryings on the 
 part of his two terriers, and that he had been begging 
 about for the book everywhere in vain. 
 
 " Mine is heaven knows where. I haven't seen it 
 for months : it may be under my press or behind it, 
 for aught I know ; but you can look for yourself, as 
 long as you don't bother me about it." 
 
 Answering to this cordial invitation, Schweiner at 
 once proceeded to ransack his comrade's apartment. 
 There were not many books there ; only the unavoid- 
 able military ones I have referred to, two or three 
 French novels, and half-a-dozen other miscellaneous 
 books. They all lay on the top of each other, and it 
 was impossible to find out what was at the bottom 
 without pulling to pieces the whole untidy heap. 
 
 This, Schweiner proceeded to do vigorously ; while 
 Otto stood at the window, half leaning out, lazily puff- 
 ing his cigar -smoke into the air, and going over in 
 thought the letter he had just despatched. Now that 
 it was gone, he felt quieter and more satisfied than he 
 had done for some time past. 
 
 It was a magnificent autumn day, coming in a long 
 train of magnificent days ; for this is the pleasantest 
 time of the year in Poland, — unbroken mellow sun-
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 305 
 
 shine and clear sky, stretching . often till into Novem- 
 ber ; and then with a sudden break the winter comes. 
 
 The wdnter was some weeks off yet, although every- 
 thing spoke of the summer's decay. The swallows' 
 nests were deserted, and outside the town the hedge- 
 rows and the grass were covered with large flakes of 
 gossamer webs, which go by the name of Alt Wcibcr 
 Sommer. Some stray shreds had floated into the town, 
 and hung about in the air cloudily, looking hardly 
 more real than the puff's of Otto's tobacco-smoke. 
 
 Schweiner's energetic search brought several books 
 down to the floor with a bang. Otto heard it, but 
 scarcely turned round, only giving vent to some half- 
 spoken comment, not complimentary to his comrade. 
 Schweiner muttered something too, savouring more 
 strongly of an oath than Otto's remark, and began 
 picking up the books. 
 
 Amongst them was Otto's sketch-book, which had 
 fallen on its face open ; and as Schweiner gathered it 
 up with the rest, he caught sight of one of Otto's 
 sketches — a view of Hamburg — and became interested, 
 or perhaps only curious. 
 
 " Ah, rather good, — not so bad," he commented half 
 aloud, in turning over the pages. Presently he came 
 upon the sketches Otto had made on board ship. 
 
 " Nasty-looking fellow that ! Not half such a bad 
 girl," the next page showing the retroussd nose and 
 abundant curls of one of Otto's fair acquaintances of 
 the ship. 
 
 Otto at the window heard him talking to himself, 
 VOL. I. u
 
 306 "what's in a name?" 
 
 but paid no heed. He was lazily watching the float- 
 ing webs, and wondering how long the summer would 
 last. 
 
 " Ah, Sapperlot, noch einmal ! " burst suddenly from 
 Schweiner, in a loud tone. 
 
 Otto turned round with a slight movement of im- 
 patience, and saw the other staring through his single 
 eyeglass at something in the sketch-book, with an ex- 
 pression of the utmost astonishment and admiration. 
 
 "What has come to the man, next?" he solilo- 
 quised, lounging up to him and glancing over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 His expression changed on the instant, and that 
 passing glance was riveted into a steadfast gaze. 
 
 Reata's face was before him on the page, Reata's 
 eyes were looking at him from off the dead paper; 
 and with a sudden start that was almost pain, the 
 recognition of her beauty overwhelmed him like a 
 surprise. It was four months since he had seen her, 
 and her lovely face had begun to grow just a little 
 dim in his memory, as the faces of the absent always 
 do, however truly we may love them. 
 
 Now the spell was on him again for the moment ; 
 it seized on him with the strength of a reality, and he 
 felt his breath coming quicker. 
 
 " Ah, Sa2jperlot^ noch einmal ! " repeated Schweiner, 
 after a second's awestruck silence. 
 
 " Give it me," said Otto, dreamily, putting out his 
 hand towards it; not with any hasty impatience in 
 his tone, or any effort to hide his feelings. Schweiner
 
 THE SKETCH-BOOK. 307 
 
 was nothing to him at that moment — the mere sub- 
 ordinate creature who happened to be holding the 
 book ; everything else was nothing to him then. He 
 was far away in mind in the Mexican forest, with the 
 palm-trees and the rustling grasses ; he could breathe 
 the very perfumes that hung so heavily about the 
 flowers, could hear the buzz of insect-life, and see the 
 humming-birds as they darted in and out between the 
 shadowy branches. " Give it me," he repeated. 
 
 Schweiner gave it him, and then stood staring from 
 the sketch to Otto. There were signs in Otto's face he 
 could not read: there was a violent emotion; there 
 were surprise, tenderness, and also a sharp pain. His 
 hands trembled a little as he held the book, and he 
 stood gazing on the page still dreamily. 
 
 " Stunningly handsome girl that ! Who is she ? " 
 inquired Schweiner presently, seeing that the other was 
 lost in a trance ; and then, with another start. Otto 
 came back to his real surroundings, and turned round 
 angrily, while quickly closing the book to hide that 
 face from sight. "What are you staying here for? 
 Haven't you found that book yet?" 
 
 " Is she any one you knew in Mexico ? " Schweiner 
 asked, disregarding Otto's remark. 
 
 " In Mexico ! Nonsense ! not a bit of it ! " said Otto, 
 growing red with vexation. " It is an old thing I did 
 years ago, somewhere in Germany ; don't even re- 
 member where." And he walked to the window again, 
 and leant out as he liad done before ; but where was 
 gone the quiet of half an hour ago? The air seemed
 
 308 " what's in a name ? " 
 
 full of hovering, mocking little phantoms ; he could see 
 no stillness in the aiitumn day. Would his letter 
 have been different had he looked into the sketch- 
 book before writing it? 
 
 " I was not aware that cactuses and palm-trees grew 
 in Germany," remarked the sagacious Schweiner to 
 himself, as he sauntered back home. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 fO 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
 
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