/
 
 OLGA ZANELLI
 
 T// 
 
 OLGA ZA:tTELLI 
 
 ^ ^^h 0f M Jmuu'ial Citg 
 
 FAIRFAX L. CARTWRIGHT 
 
 "... dans cette vie 
 Eien n'e$f bon que d'aimer n'ett vrai que de souffHr " 
 
 VOLUME 
 
 FIRST 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
 
 
 OLGA ZANELLI 
 
 o 
 
 fJHAPTER I. 
 
 F the clubs of Berlin perhaps the most luxuri- 
 ously fitted up, and the one most in keeping 
 with our English ideas of what a club-house should 
 be, is the Jockey Clul), situated in a little street which 
 runs into that great thorouglifare of Berlin, the avenue 
 called the Unter den Linden. Less exclusive than 
 its rival, the dreary and solemn Casino of the officers, 
 the Jockey Club counts among its members persons 
 belonging to the highest aristocracy as well as wealthy 
 Jew bankers and merchants, and even some indi\aduals 
 of questionable antecedents, the one bond of union 
 between these discordant elements being a love of 
 ^. sports and of cards. The Jockey Club enjoys a great 
 — ^ reputation in the sporting world of Germany, and on 
 ^ days when there is racing at Charlottenburg or Hoppe- 
 rs garten, it generally turns out a very respectable coach 
 
 and four for the use of its members. 
 ^ On that Sunday afternoon in the latter part of the 
 <^_, month of April of the year 188 — , there had been 
 VOL. 1. 1 
 
 i 
 
 J
 
 2 OLfiA ZANKLLI. 
 
 racing of some imitortaiicc at Cliarlutteubiirg ; and as 
 the weather liad been i)reternatnially fine and warm 
 for that uncertain and eliangeal)le month, crowds of 
 people had been attracted to the racecourse, and the 
 Emperor liimself had driven out and patronised the 
 races for a short time. Many members who had 
 sporting tastes had come up from the country for the 
 day, so that on that evening the chil)-house was 
 remarkably full. In the great saloon, hung with 
 ]X)rtraits of famous racehorses, a din of conversation 
 was going on ; and if one listened attentively to it, 
 one soon discovered that it was entirely a])Out racing 
 matters, bets and odds and other kindred subjects, with 
 now and again disjmtes respecting tlie merits of a 
 horse, and explanations why it had not won. 
 
 At the further end of the room were a group of 
 persons, who were engaged in loud discussion. In the 
 centre sat the Duke of Bummelberg, the head of the 
 great family of the Hohenschwanzs. He was an 
 elderly gentleman, easy-going and good-tempered, 
 except when he was losing at cards, a patron of the 
 turf, and an inveterate gambler. He was the i)Ossessor 
 of an immense fortune, but of late he had somewhat 
 impaired it by his reckless betting and gambling, in 
 which occupations he was zealously assisted by his 
 four sons, young lieutenants in various regiments of 
 the Guards. He was jiresideut of the Jockey Club, 
 and on account of this and of the great name he bore 
 he was always treated with the greatest consideration 
 by every one whenever he entered the clul>-liouse. 
 
 Opjiosite to him sat Herr Schlangenbeck, a tall, 
 niiddlc-ngcd, stontisli jjt'rson, with a somewhat bloated
 
 OLGA ZANELLi. 6 
 
 appearance. His history was rather curious. Born 
 in a provincial town of Jewish parents in a small 
 way of business, he had become at an early age a 
 clerk in a Hamburg house trading with London. On 
 one occasion he was sent to England on business ; 
 he happened to arrive during the Derby week, and 
 as he had heard so much about the great English 
 carnival, he determined to go and see for himself what 
 it was like. The impression it left upon him was 
 immense ; it changed his whole aim in life. On 
 returning to Hamburg he took seriously to the study 
 of horse-racing ; he frequented the society of the few 
 English jockeys and stable-boys who resided in that 
 city, and he learnt to speak their slang, so that in 
 after life his English always retained the flavour of 
 the stable. Whenever his work as a clerk would 
 allow of it, he would run over to England to attend 
 the great race meetings, starving himself during many 
 months to save the necessary funds for the journey, 
 as well as to have something over to lay upon a horse. 
 Gradually he succeeded in making the acquaintance 
 of some of the persons connected with the great 
 training establishments at Newmarket, and through 
 them in course of time he got to be on speaking 
 terms with several leading jockeys and trainers. The 
 sporting foreigner became a great favourite. The 
 racing information he succeeded in obtaining from his 
 friends he used to such good purpose, that in a few 
 years he had amassed by careful betting nearly a 
 thousand pounds. Then with a sigh of relief he 
 threw up his clerkship and turned his whole attention 
 to racing matters, which just at that moment began to
 
 4 OLOA ZANKLl.l. 
 
 attract considembk' notice in Ciermany. Ho attended 
 ever}- meeting of any imi)ortanc(', laid bets wherever 
 he could, generally with considerable l)enetit to him- 
 self, and so slowly and carefully he continued to 
 increase his cajjital. Four years after throwing np 
 his clerkship he made his first venture in buving a 
 racehorse. That day he ever afterwards celebrated 
 by gi\'ing an annual dinner to his friends. This 
 horse, which was not much fancied, and which he was 
 therefore enabled to jnck up at a sale for a trifling 
 sum, turned out to l)e for him a veritable gold mine. 
 It won race after race ; and when at last it had to be 
 retired to the stud, it continued to bring him in a 
 steady income. This was the turning-point in his 
 career ; from this moment he became known through- 
 out Germany as a leading si)ortsman, and as one of 
 the most successful racing men in the country. The 
 number of his horses increased fast, and by a series 
 of brilliant but questionable racing coui)s he amassed 
 a fortune, wliich was now generally estimated at some 
 three millions of marks. He then removed to Hoppe- 
 garten, near Berlin, where he built himself a house 
 and splendid stables on an English model, and he 
 invited an English jockey at a large salary to come 
 and live with him, to take over the management of 
 his stables, and to ride his horses. A short time before 
 this story begins Herr Schlangenbeck crowned his 
 career as a sjiortsman by being elected a member of 
 the Jockey Club, wliich was, indeed, an honour for 
 a person of whom it might well be said that he had 
 almost risen from the gutter. 
 
 Anotlier member of the group sitting round the
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 5 
 
 Duke of Bummelberg was Count Immersdorf. He 
 was a man of about forty years of age, tall and 
 spare, with a sardonic expression in his face. At 
 the first glance one could see that he was a man 
 who had led a fast life ; he looked much older than 
 he was ; his face Avas deeply marked mth lines, 
 and he was already considerably bald. He came of 
 a good family, and his uncle held a high and 
 important post at Couit. He had been for several 
 years an officer in the Guards, but he had had to 
 retire on account of his debts, and at present he 
 had no occupation ; yet in spite of his well-known 
 financial difficulties he seemed to be generally well 
 supplied with money. Of late he had become very 
 intimate with Herr Schlangenbeck, and ill-natured 
 people naturally said that he was emj)loyed by that 
 great racing man to do dirty work for him, for 
 which he received a liberal remuneration. 
 
 " I can assure your Serene Highness my lord 
 Duke," said Herr Schlangenbeck, with a deferential 
 but awkward manner, " that so far as I know no 
 horse of mine was ever jjulled. Schlemil ran straight, 
 and he was beaten because he was wanting in 
 stamina. If your Serene Highness put money on 
 my horse, I am sorry for it ; and had I been aware 
 of your Serene Highness's intentions, I would have 
 saved you that loss." 
 
 " Confound the money I " replied the Duke. " What 
 do I care about the trifling loss ? But what I do 
 object to is being swindled. If that jockey of yours 
 did not pull Schlemil, I have no eyes in my head. Do 
 you sui)pose that I freipient racecourses only since
 
 6 OLCA ZANKLLI. 
 
 we established a I'cw years a^iro race meetings at 
 Charlotteiilmrir and Hopitegarteii ? I know from 
 long (late what the turf is in England. Talk of the 
 blackguardism of the English turf, I can assure 
 you, sir, that we need go no further than C'harlotteu- 
 burg to find its equal," 
 
 " I am sure your Serene Highness is mistaken," 
 said Herr Schlangenbeck, making a very humble 
 bow ; " I know my jockey well, and feel confident 
 that he did his best to win the race ; but horses are 
 verv variable, and one must expect surprises on the 
 turf." 
 
 " One is never disai)poiuted," replied the Duke, 
 with evident bad-humour. 
 
 " Schlemil is, after all, a very bad horse," inter- 
 posed Count Immersdorf, with that i)eculiarly dis- 
 agreeable smile which so frequently came over his 
 face ; " he generally starts favourite, and is usually 
 last in the race. I am sure Herr Schlangenbeck 
 has lost much money over him." 
 
 " Yes," said Herr Schlangenbeck, " the Duke is 
 not the only loser to-day." 
 
 " "We will drop this subject," rejilied the Duke, 
 rather testily ; " I liate the very name of your 
 Schlemil. Ah ! here comes the banker Grunebaum ; 
 I shall go to the card-room to see what he will do 
 to-night." Sftying this he rose, and, after acknow- 
 ledging as lie passed the many greetings of '' Good 
 evening, Duke," this great i)ersonage disa]tpeared 
 behind tlie green baize swing-tloors wliicli led into 
 the card-room. 
 
 Banker Grunel)aum, by liis appearance an unmis-
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 7 
 
 takable Hebrew, was a partner iu one of the great 
 banking firms of Berlin. He was a short, puffy, 
 greas3'-looking individual, with great coarse hands 
 and fingers, which he unconsciously kept continuously 
 on the move, as if they felt unhappy at not being- 
 employed in dealing cards. He was very rich, and 
 he was one of the most reckless gamblers who had 
 ever been known at the Jockey Club. Of late he 
 had produced quite a sensation by the large sums 
 which he had won and lost, night after night, 
 playing what is known by tlie name of " chouette " 
 at ecarte — that is to say, playing his hand all the 
 time, and taking bets to any amount which members 
 of the club might like to lay against him. A few 
 nights before he had lost in this way a sum of nearly 
 forty thousand pounds, and it was mentioned in the 
 club, with admiration, that he had risen from the 
 card-table apparently indifferent to his loss, and as 
 cool as when he began to play. 
 
 The news that the Banker had gone into the card- 
 room soon attracted every one there, so that in a short 
 time Herr Schlangenbeck and Count Immersdorf 
 were left alone. They rose and reseated themselves 
 in a cosy nook formed by a Japanese screen orna- 
 mented witli representations of fantastic birds, and, 
 seeing that they were the only two persons in the 
 room, they stretched themselves out at their ease in 
 the comfortable arm-chairs provided by the club, and 
 spoke to eacli other without reserve. 
 
 " I have made a pot of money over this race," said 
 Herr Schlangenbeck, giving his neighbour a friendly 
 pat on the back ; " and you are aware how badly
 
 8 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 1 wanted it. It is a itayiiig thing when one is able 
 to lay against one's own horses. Men who liack 
 horses withont knowing anything about them are 
 fools, and they must suffer for their folly. It is 
 lucky for us that there are still a few men of large 
 fortunes like the Duke, who, because they consider 
 it to be the proper thing for j)ersons in their j)Ositiou, 
 lose their money freely, and j)0se as lovers of sport. 
 It is a jnty that our young officers should have more 
 debts than cash, and that our financial men should 
 prefer to spend their nights at the card-table than 
 their afternoons on the racecourse. The turf in 
 Germany is not a ])rofitable business, and had I but 
 started my career in England I would now l)e the 
 possessor of a large fortune." 
 
 " Not a bad grumble," said the Count, '* for a man 
 who in the short space of ten years has accumulated 
 a fortune of three million marks. You are mistaken 
 if you think that no money is to be got out of our 
 young Guard officers. I know of several who have 
 but recently joined their regiments, and who possess 
 considerable fortunes. Our ])aternal government, it 
 is tme, does all it can to i)revent them from betting, 
 but it does nothing to save them from losing their 
 money at cards ; yet I think that with a little tact 
 and i)ersevemnce we might turn some of tlie money, 
 which is nightly lost at the card-table, into our 
 pockets by encouraging and giving facilities to 
 these young and inexjK'rienced officers to make bets 
 with us." 
 
 " That is all very fine," rei)lit'd Hcrr Schlangenbeck, 
 but it is not a jirofitable business to bet with
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. \) 
 
 persons who will not i^ay when they lose. When 
 your officers are the bearers of great names, it is 
 impossible for me to press them to pay if they are 
 short of money ; to do so would be social suicide 
 for me ; I should be immediately cold-shouldered by 
 every member of this club ; but if I lose I am 
 expected to pay immediately, or to be cut by every 
 one. As I do not possess that magical prefix ' von ' 
 to my name, I prefer, as a rule, to have money 
 dealings with other persons than with members of 
 our nobility." 
 
 " My dear Schlangenbeck," interrupted the Count, 
 " I could give you the names of at least a dozen 
 young men of means who have a taste for gambling, 
 and who, with a little encouragement, and with 
 facilities thrown in their way, would readily take to 
 betting, and, what is perhaps of more importance to 
 ourselves, would pay if they lost." 
 
 " I should be curious to hear their names," remarked 
 Herr Schlangenbeck. 
 
 " It will not be difficult to satisfy you," replied the 
 Connt. " The first name which suggests itself to 
 me is that of Count Dirnheim, who lately inherited 
 the large fortune of his uncle ; he wants but little 
 encouragement to si)end his money. Moreover, I have 
 been told that he intends to keep racehorses ; should 
 he do so, we will have no difficulty in turning some 
 of his gold into our pockets, for he knows no more 
 about racehorses and the ways of the turf than can 
 be learnt from a casual glance at the Derby from 
 the Grand Stand, when your comjianions hai)i)en to 
 be a beautiful woman and a bottle of c]iam]»agne.
 
 ll» (>L<;A ZANKLLl. 
 
 Then, of course, there is the Prince of West])halia, 
 who is sj)enclin^ a heap of money, and wlio keeps 
 some good-for-nothing racehorses at Hojjpegarten. 
 He will come to grief before long, hut I think 
 we raiglit make something out of liim before he 
 breaks." 
 
 " I doubt it," answered Herr Schlangenbeck, as he 
 ])ulled out of his j)Ocket a large handkerchief with 
 his initials elaborately embroidered in one corner of it 
 in staring colours, and began mopping his face, for 
 the evening was unusually warm for the season, — " I 
 doubt it, for the Prince has all the smartness and 
 cleverness of the blackleg ; we will not find it so easy 
 to fleece liim." 
 
 " Let him go then," said the Count, with a dis- 
 agreeable laugh ; " there are plenty more fools in the 
 world who ^^^ll serve our purpose. There is Baron 
 Knechtshiigel, one of those rich good-natured and 
 weak men who seem to be sent into the world to be 
 as it were a purse to their friends ; and there is also 
 the Polish prince who recently married an heiress. I 
 think tliat in his case we may ai)ply tlie proverb, ' That 
 money easily won is easily spent.'" 
 
 " Proverbs are proverbially wrong," retorted the 
 racing man ; " but tell me, Count, what do you think 
 of young Klinkenstein, who has just joined the Gardes 
 du Corps ? He must be better oft' than most of our 
 young officers, for his estates are said to be large, and 
 there has been a long minority. He is a member of 
 this clul>, and gambles a good deal ; but I have not 
 been introduced to him yet." 
 
 "I liiirdlv kncnv liim," answered Count Inimers-
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 11 
 
 dorf, " beyond having seen liim several times in the 
 card-room, where he seems to me to have but little 
 success. As to his fortune, I am creditably informed 
 that it is considerable ; but his father spent a great 
 deal of money, and I expect the estates are not free 
 from mortgages." 
 
 " You seem to be well posted up in other people's 
 affairs," said Herr Schlangenbeck, with a laugh. 
 " Count, you would make a good adviser to a money- 
 lender." 
 
 Count Immersdorf looked rather annoyed at the 
 suggestion, and replied sharply : " I have made it my 
 business, sir, to learn all I can about the financial 
 position of people in society ; such information is 
 always useful, and may sometimes be turned to very 
 good account." 
 
 " I did not at all mean to blame you," said Herr 
 Schlangenbeck, apoligisiug for the remark he had 
 made. " The acquisition of knowledge, of whatever 
 kind it may be, is always to be encouraged ; but, to 
 return to our subject, tell me frankly what you think 
 of Count Klinkensteiu's character." 
 
 " 1 have not as yet obtained enough information 
 respecting him to form a judgment ; but," continued 
 the Count, " 1 have watched him carefully several 
 times when he was playing at cards, and I should 
 say that he was foolish, headstrong, nervous, and 
 excitable." 
 
 " So much the better," chuckled the racing man ; 
 " he may then be induced to take to betting ; and you, 
 my dear Count, will have to persuade him to back 
 my horses when they are not meant to win. My last
 
 12 oL(;A ZANKLLl. 
 
 raciii<j: season was a very bad oiu'. 1 must make some 
 money this year." 
 
 " From what I liear," rejJied his neighlxmr, " I 
 am not so sure that you will succeed in getting any- 
 thing out of Count Klinkenstein. He gambles, it is 
 true, to a certain extent ; but I am told that he is mean 
 and stingy, and not at all fond of losing sight of his 
 money." 
 
 " Confound the brute I "' said Herr Schlangenbeck, 
 with a loud voice ; " that is not the sort of young 
 officer we want here in Berlin ; let him go into the 
 provinces and make economies there." 
 
 " You may judge the man from what 1 will tell 
 you," continued Count Immersdorf. " I have been 
 assured by persons who ought to know that Count 
 Klinkenstein has behaved very badly to his sister. 
 She was left very little by her father's will ; and as her 
 husband is not rich she is almost in Avant for a person 
 of her social position, and yet her brother has declined 
 to help her in any way. As she is said to be young 
 and pretty, she aWII be reduced to taking a wealthy 
 lover, who \Nall keep the household going." 
 
 " It is a lie I " shouted a young officer wearing the 
 uniform of the Gardes du Corps, who liad just entered 
 through the noiseless swing-doors of the card-room, 
 and who liad caught the last remarks made by Count 
 Immersdorf. Tlie two gentlemen who had been 
 talking together rose from their seats as the young 
 officer, livid in the face, came up to them, shouting 
 again, " It is a lie, and you know it I Sirs, mind your 
 own affairs, and leave my sister alone. What right 
 have you got to sjn-ead ealnninies al)out me ? Far
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 13 
 
 from ha\ang refused mx sister anvtbiug, I have settled 
 money on her against the ad\dce of several members 
 of my family. I expect an apology from you, sir^ 
 for what you have said, or yon will have to give me 
 satisfaction." 
 
 Very red in the face, standing and wiping the 
 perspiration from his brow, Herr Schlaugenbeck 
 mimibled, " I assure you, Count, that I never for a 
 moment believed what was said about you." 
 
 ''I do not care what you believe," retorted the 
 youug officer ; " my business is not with you, but 
 vnth Count Immersdorf, who made these statements 
 regarding me."- 
 
 There followed a few moments of silence, after which 
 Count Immersdorf replied in a slow and deliberate 
 manner, as if he was carefully weighing every word 
 he was about to speak : " I beg to express to you. 
 Count Kliukenstein, my very great regret that any- 
 thing I ha.A'e said should have given you offence. The 
 remarks I made with regard to your sister were but 
 the repetition of what I had heard from persons who 
 ought to have been well informed. I am delighted to 
 hear that they were wrong, and I therefore beg to 
 apologise now for having given currency to rumours 
 which I find had no foundation." 
 
 " You are then only the wretched circulator of 
 scandalous gossip ! " said Count Klinkenstein, witli a 
 look of contempt. " I pity you. Count, that you should 
 lend yourself to such a trade ; but before I can accept 
 your apology I must insist on your telling me the 
 names of the persons from whom you heard these 
 rumours about my sister and myself."
 
 14 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 " Let every man look after liimself," was the senti- 
 ment which i)asse(l thron<rh Count Immersclorfs mind 
 at that moment, so without liesitation he replied : " I 
 have no objection to tellin*]^ you their names. Quite 
 recently I was dining at Baden with ( 'olonel von 
 Bergmann, Captain von Hahn, and Herr Nader, the 
 owner of racehorses ; the statements were made by 
 the latter, and were not denied by the other two, and 
 I was therefore led to believe that they were true." 
 
 " Very good," said Count Klinkeustein, writing 
 down the names in his pocket-book ; *' they will have 
 to account to me for their slanders." Then he turned 
 his back upon the two gentlemen to whom he had 
 been talking, and began walking up and down tlie 
 room in an agitated state. 
 
 " A very hot-headed youth," whispered Herr 
 Schlangenbeck to his companion ; " it seems to me 
 that you got out of your difficulty pretty well." 
 
 " I am too old a hand," replied the Count, " to be 
 enticed into fighting duels about nothing. The devil 
 take the fellow's sister and liimself I What business 
 of mine is their re])utation ? Let those who care 
 about it fight ; I certainly shall not. A man must 
 indeed be a fool who would fight a duel about a 
 woman's reputation. If she be honest, what matters 
 it what people say about her ? and if she be frail, will 
 she recover her good name by my letting myself be 
 pricked through with a sword ? My dear Schlangen- 
 beck, I am of lago's opinion, that re])utation is an idle 
 and most false imposition, oft got ^^^thout merit and 
 lost without deserving. Come, let us leave this fellow 
 alone ; he is capable of calling us out for merely
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 15 
 
 looking" at him." Then he took Herr Schlangeubeck's 
 arm, and the two went into the card-room. 
 
 Count Kliukensteiu continued walking ujj and down 
 the room absorbed in himself, and taking no notice of 
 the waiters who now and again jjassed through, bearing 
 on a tray numerous pots of frothy beer for the thirsty 
 players in the card-room, and who no doubt tliought 
 to themselves that he was another young officer who 
 had been playing high and had lost more money than 
 he could afford to pay. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " said Count Kliukensteiu to 
 himself ; " if I go to Baden-Baden and challenge any 
 one, I must call out the three ; I cannot I3ick and 
 choose between them, and it is certain that if I have 
 to fight three duels I vnll be seriously wounded in one 
 of tliem, if I am lucky enough to escape being killed. 
 Why on earth did those two talk so loud that I could 
 not help hearing what they said ! Every day people 
 spread about lies with regard to their neighbours, but 
 do people fight about such things ? I would have 
 done much better to have taken no notice of what 
 they were saying. What a fool I was to rush in like 
 a lunatic and insult them I What good will my 
 fighting these duels do me ? Every one will consider 
 me a fool for my pains ; and if I am lucky enough to 
 escape unhurt, I will have to spend several months 
 in a fortress as punishment for my conduct. What a 
 pleasant prospect for me, who was amusing myself so 
 well here ! This is a nice beginning to my life in 
 Berlin. What will my sister say when, in a day or 
 two, she perhaps hears that I am dead or seriously 
 wounded ? AVill she thank me for ha\ano: thus taken
 
 16 OLCiA ZANKLLI. 
 
 up ]hm- cansc ? I doiiht it. AVliy cannot men leave 
 my family affairs alone ? Are they of snoh jreneral 
 interest to the worM to justify their becoming a com- 
 mon subject of conversation, or have these men nothing 
 else to occui»y tlu'ir thoughts with but scandalous 
 gossij) ? How can j)eo]»le say that I refused my sister 
 money? Have I not done all I could for her? It 
 makes me mad that men should say that I am stingy. 
 "Wliat do I care for the money ? I would throw it in 
 the faces of tliese Idackguards if they were in want 
 of it. Yes I I will prove to them that I am neither 
 stingy nor a coward. I will fight till I can no longer 
 stand. I will call them all out, every one of them, and 
 the more the better." 
 
 Count Klinkenstein had approached a writing-table, 
 and nervously clutching an inkstand, he brought it 
 down again upon the table with a dash, so that the 
 ink spurted out in every direction. " What have I 
 done ? " he said to himself, calming down : " I am 
 always impetuous and doing foolish things." 
 
 Then he sat down at the table, and, after a few 
 moments' thought, took a sheet of note-i)aper, and 
 wrote a letter to liis colonel, asking for a few days' 
 leave of absence on urgent jirivati* affairs. Having 
 finished it, he touched the knob of the electric bell on 
 the table, and when a sei-vant appeared he said to him, 
 with a ]»erfectly calm voice, — 
 
 " I am afraid there has been a little accident here ; 
 I have spilled some ink ; ])lease have it wi])ed up. I 
 also want a messenger to take this note to the colonel 
 of the Gardes du ('or]»s. He must wait for nn answt'r, 
 and brini: it to mv lodirinirs."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 17 
 
 Theu he rose, and liiimming to himself a gay tune 
 out of the latest new operette, he descended slowly the 
 fine marble staircase of the club ; the porter, seeing him 
 come, was ready with his cloak and cap, and Count 
 Klinkenstein, having lit a cigarette and cast a look at 
 the last telegrams which were posted up in the hall, 
 left the club and walked home.
 
 18 (»L(;A ZASKLLl. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EDWARD, Count of Kliiikciistein, a Conut of the 
 Holy Roman Emiaro, Count Brink in the 
 Kingdom of Saxony, a Laron of various places, etc., 
 was descended of a very ancient Saxon fomily, whose 
 name had frcMjuently figured in the history of that 
 country. On the banks of the Elbe, a short distance 
 below Dresden, lay the Castle of Klinkenstein, the 
 ancestral home of the family. It was a great pile of 
 buildings, irregularly built and covering a great deal 
 of ground. The style of architecture belonged to 
 different e])ochs. The facade to the river had un- 
 doubtedly formed part of the ancient castle, which had 
 been mostly destroyed during the Thirty Years' "War ; 
 the donjon tower had also survived those troublous 
 times, and when viewed from the river, half hidden 
 behind the tall elms of the park, it certainly gave an 
 air of antiquity to the place. The greater i)ortion, 
 however, of the house had been rebuilt in later times. 
 One of the Counts Klinkenstein, who lived in the days 
 of the luxurious Augustus the Strong, had added to 
 one side of the buildings an imjjosing gateway, covered 
 with stucco ornaments and reliefs in the rococo style, 
 so much in vogue in France during the early part of the 
 eighteenth century. In those days it was the fashion 
 for German nobh^meii to atl'ect to desjiise the language
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 19 
 
 and customs of their own country, and to imitate the 
 French court in all matters of taste, fashion, and 
 literature. 
 
 In the interior the house was uninviting and cold. 
 The great hall, with its stags' heads and dusty family 
 portraits and its pavement of stone slabs, looked dismal 
 and dark ; and the staircase, a remnant of the old 
 castle, gave you the impression that it led rather to a 
 prison than to the family apartments of a wealthy 
 nobleman. Most of the furniture dated back to the 
 last century, and the velvet and silk coverings of 
 chairs and sofas had a faded look about them. There 
 was a want of comfort everywhere. The bedrooms, 
 vast and high, contained but little furniture beyond 
 elaborately carved and inlaid four-post bedsteads, with 
 beautiful curtains of brocaded or embroidered silk. 
 But scattered about the rooms were curios of every 
 sort : clocks with intricate works and quaint surprises, 
 rare bronzes from Italy, precious candelabra of Vene- 
 tian glass, dainty cabinets of inlaid work, and endless 
 odds and ends, the sight of which would have excited 
 the cujndity of a connoisseur and collector. There was 
 also a cabinet full of porcelain, which had been locked 
 up for years, and where the dust of a century had 
 accumulated, so little interest had the later counts 
 taken in its contents ; yet it contained inestimable 
 ceramic treasures : porcelain from China and Japan, 
 brought to Europe more than two centuries ago by the 
 Dutch ; Nankin ware, which would fetch a fabulous 
 price ; Dresden china from the first days of its manu- 
 facture ; and not a few specimens of Sevres porcelain 
 of the best period, of Nymphenburg white ware and
 
 20 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 Dntcli faiCiico. There was also a canarv-yellow tea 
 service made at the royal faetory of Berlin, and pre- 
 sented by Frederick the Great to tlie dilettante Count 
 Klinkenstein who had been the collector of all these 
 treasures. The later members of the family had shown 
 more taste for hunting and shooting than for the col- 
 lection of works of art. 
 
 Round the castle lay tiie great park, studdecl witli 
 old and venerable trees, and stretching for a consider- 
 able distance along the banks of the river Elbe. The 
 gardens were as old-fashioned as the house, and might 
 have been planned by Le Notre ; but they were the 
 great charm of the place, for here one could find life 
 and verdure and sunshine ; here were delightful 
 charmilles turning and twisting in every direction ; 
 here were to be found masses of roses and flowers, 
 fountains of strange device, and pretty little waterfalls 
 tumbling over artificial rocks. In retired nooks one 
 would come across statues of classical heroes overgrown 
 ^^^th lichen, and showing unmistakal)le signs of the 
 ravages of age. Then there were lawns where the 
 trees were cut into fantastical shapes ; yews that were 
 made to resemble cypresses, Portugal laurels that 
 were trimmed to imitate orange trees, and l)ushes of 
 box that were tortured to spread out like umbrellas. 
 Nor were there wanting endless shady walks, where at 
 a turn a surprise would await you, such as an o])eniug 
 cut through the foliage, so that you got a distant view 
 of the country as through a window. 
 
 Not far from the house stood the village, Anth its 
 neat cottages and jjicturesijue red-roofed church, built 
 on a slight elevation, and round which lay the church-
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 21 
 
 yard, clotted ^itli a few fine tree!>, and overgrown with 
 grass and "^'ild flowers, which almost hid the more 
 ancient and neglected tombstones. The interior of the 
 church, however, was bare and nniuvitiug, as Lntlieran 
 churches usually are ; an ugly wooden gallery ran down 
 two sides of it, and over the entrance was a massive 
 organ, which had been given by a former Count Kliuken- 
 stein, — a fulsome inscrii^ion in Latin commemorated 
 this event. On one side of the church stood the burial 
 chapel of the family, richly decorated, it is true, but in 
 sufficiently bad taste. It was separated from the rest 
 of the church by a high iron railing, overloaded with 
 gilding and ornaments. In this mortuary chapel were 
 numerous statues of angels blomng upon trumpets, 
 bas-reliefs running round the cornice representing tlie 
 virtues, crosses in marble not a few, as well as other 
 emblems of the Christian faith ; but what struck tlie 
 eye most were the two great monuments which had 
 been erected on either side of the entrance. One of 
 them was to the memory of the count who had been a 
 collector of china and bric-a-brac ; in the centre stood 
 a bust of the deceased bolt upright. This elegant 
 courtier, in his carefully powdered wig, who had 
 probably never worn anything else but elaborately 
 embroidered coats, was represented here in armour, 
 holding his helmet in one hand and his commander's 
 baton in the other, as was only right and proper in a 
 person who was born a Count of Klinkenstein. Over 
 his head, arranged in the form of a baldacchino and 
 descending on either side, were heavy marble curtains, 
 on which the artist had been at pains to imitate the 
 texture of silk and brocade. Two life-size female
 
 22 <»UiA ZANKLI.I. 
 
 figures held up tlic curtains on cither side ; the one 
 rei)rosented Charity and tlu' other Chastity, and they 
 were each properly furnished \vith the eiuhlems of their 
 professions. As to the count's charity, his descendants 
 only knew that in his zeal for collecting he had encum- 
 bered tlie family estates, and that many of his treasures 
 had had to be sold after his death ; while with regard 
 to the other virtue, all that tlie world knew was that 
 the Count had died unmarried. 
 
 The other monument, erected at the end of the last 
 century, was in the very worst taste. It consisted of a 
 pyramid of many-coloured marbles, nearly reaching to 
 the ceiling. On its surface a grouj) of weejjiug angels 
 had been carved, who held uj) a medallion portrait of 
 the deceased. Below was a figure of Death, rising as it 
 were out of a toml), and represented as a skeleton in a 
 winding-sheet, holding a scytlie in one hand and a run- 
 out hour-glass in the other. In the corners of the 
 j)yramid were counts' coronets and the blazons of the 
 family ; a Latin inscrii)tion told you of the virtues of 
 tlie defunct, his premature death, and the great things 
 which he would have done had he Imt lived longer. 
 
 These monuments were the i)ride of the villagers, 
 who were sincerely attached to the house t)f Klinken- 
 stein;and the old verger, who had seen many a member 
 of the family brought home to his last resting-jilace in 
 these vaults, on the rare occasions when he took a 
 stranger round, would exju'ct, in addition to his fee, a 
 l»roi)er tribute of reverence and admiration for these 
 works of art. It was a relief to turn away from the 
 pom])Osity of tliese monuments and the bareness of 
 the intei'ior of tlie Ituilding, ;uitl to be greeted on
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 23 
 
 stepping out of tlie church door by a view of the open 
 country far as the distant forest of fir and pine, and to 
 catch occasional glimpses of the Elbe shining like a 
 silver streak through the foliage of the trees. 
 
 Henry, Count of Klinkeustein, the father of the 
 present owner of this property, had at an early age 
 entered the diplomatic service of Saxony. He served 
 as secretary in various places, and wliile at St. Peters- 
 burg married a Kussian lady. Soon after this event 
 the unexpected death of his uncle left him the owner 
 of the Klinkeustein properties, and made him the head 
 of the house. Till then he had been comparatively 
 poor ; but now that he had become a person of much 
 importance in liis own country, it was evident that he 
 could no longer be kei)t in the subordinate position of 
 a secretary, and he therefore was offered and accepted 
 the apjjointment of Saxon minister to the Court of 
 Tuscany. With delight the count turned his back 
 upon the dreary northern capital; for he hated cold and 
 snow, and had long pined for the blue sky of Italy, her 
 flowers and her beauty of nature. In Florence he hired 
 a sombre-looking palace, much too large for himself 
 and family; but then the count loved show, and had 
 taken a fancy to the imposing staircase ojjcn to the 
 sky, and to the noble suite of saloons, dark no doubt 
 in the daytime, but which, when lit up at night, looked 
 so well, with their walls hung with ancient damask and 
 tapestries, and with their ceilings of open rafters, on 
 which were blazoned the arms of the owners and the 
 family alliances. Here the count lived in great state, 
 spending much money, and with the help of his wife — 
 who, like so many Russian ladies of noble family, was
 
 24 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 a real grande dame — kept a salon and oi)eu house, and 
 year by year lie got to be fonder and fonder of his new 
 home. For ten years Count Klinkenstein lived happily 
 in Florence; but in the year 1 800, in the early days of the 
 war, he caught dij>htheria and died. It was i)erhai)S as 
 well that he did so at that moment, for he was sin- 
 cerely attached to the old order of things in Germany, 
 and it would have been a great blow to him had he 
 witnessed the invasion of his country and the unex- 
 pected growth of the power of Prussia. 
 
 He left two children, a girl and a boy. The girl, the 
 elder of the two, was born in St. Petersburg, and as 
 the hai)py event was announced to the count while he 
 was returning from the opera-house, where he had been 
 to witness the pretty ballet of Gisele, he gave his 
 daughter that name. It was several years later that 
 the count, who was then minister in Florence, was 
 gratified with the birth of a boy, who would carry 
 on the main line of the house of Klinkenstein. The 
 child received the name of Edward, after his uncle. 
 Count Eckstein, now a general in the Prussian army. 
 
 On the death of the count it was found that his 
 affairs were much involved ; he had spent a great deal 
 of money, and had hardly ever visited his estates ; they 
 had conseiiuently been badly managed, but the i)rosi)ect 
 of a long minority gave hope that the young boy on 
 coming of age would still be the })ossessor of a con- 
 siderable fortune. The mother and Count Eckstein 
 were appointed guardians of the children ; and the 
 countess, having become too much attached to Florence 
 to leave it, hired a villa on the slopes of Fiesole, to 
 which she retired. In the large ganlen of the villa the
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 25 
 
 children could romp about at their i)leasure ; and the 
 countess, ^vdthout losing sight of them, could stroll 
 along the terraces beneath the shade of ilex trees, and 
 gaze upon the city at her feet where she had spent so 
 many happy days. The Countess Gisele grew uj) a 
 lovely child ; she was of a docile and gentle nature ; 
 whereas the boy was wild and reckless, hating his 
 lessons, and never happy unless he was out in the open 
 air. 
 
 "When the girl was fifteen years of age and the boy 
 ten their mother died. Count Eckstein came out and 
 took the children with him to Dresden, where they 
 were left in charge of an old aunt ; and the boy, whose 
 education had been neglected, was daily sent to the 
 " gymnasium " of the place. He hated his new life, 
 and longed for the garden at Fiesole, where he had 
 been allowed to do as he pleased. What a diifereuce it 
 was to have to sit now all day before a desk in a white- 
 washed room, and to have Greek and Latin, for which 
 he cared not a jot, thumped into his head, and to be 
 teased and called a foreigner by the boys because at 
 first he sjjoke German with difficulty ! But the young- 
 count was strong and vigorous in the arms, and he 
 never lost a chance of giving his school-fellows a 
 thrashing, and he succeeded in this way in acquiring a 
 certain amount of prestige and respect. 
 
 The young Countess Gisele was also unhappy in 
 her new home, for she had grown to be half Italian 
 in feeling, and she pined for her blue sky and warm 
 sun, and could feel no sympathy for her prim old 
 aunt and for the other girls into whose society she 
 was now thrown in Dresden. During the holidays the
 
 26 ULGA ZANELLI. 
 
 children were taken either to the Castle of Klinken.stein 
 or to Count Eckstein's ])lace in Poinerania. But they 
 never ])ecame attached to their ancestral home ; they 
 felt lost all alone in that large dreary house, and they 
 were therefore always glad to escai)e from its dulness 
 and to go to their uncle's place, where they had at 
 least a comi)aniou, their i)retty cousin, the Countess 
 Eleanora, who was a few years younger than the hoy. 
 She was generally called ])y the family the Countess 
 Nelly, the pet name which her Englisli governess had 
 given lier. 
 
 Thus brother and sister grew up in close intimacy, 
 and l)ecame devoted to each other. As their present 
 life and surroundings were so distasteful to them, they 
 would naturally often recall to each other the hapi)i- 
 ness of their young days, and look forward to a time 
 when they would both be free to again do as they 
 l)leased. In due time the Countess Gisele was j)re- 
 sented at the Saxon Court ; and the local i)ress, in 
 describing the event and the charms of the young 
 countess, made use of its usual fulsome and exag- 
 gerated language. Many young officers j)roi)osed to 
 her during her first season ; but they met with little 
 success, for the Countess Gisele cared not a bit for 
 the military element, and slie hated to hear the eternal 
 clinking of spurs and to meet in society nothing but 
 uniforms and pickel/taubes. To escape from the 
 society of Dresden she accepted the advances of a 
 Count Falkenberg, a cliamberlaiu at the Austrian 
 Court. He was a man of ancient lineage, he was a 
 good deal older than herself, and liis fortune, though 
 not large, was sufficient, but what made liim attractive
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 27 
 
 to lier was that his tastes were diiFerent from those of 
 the other men she had met, iu that he had a jiassion 
 for art and for literature. On the wliole, the marriage 
 proved a happy oue, and she became in time sincerely 
 attached to him. 
 
 Count Klinkensteiu continued at school for several 
 years after the marriage of his sister, hating his life 
 there more and more, and longing for the time when 
 he would be delivered from the pedagogues and be 
 allowed to go in search of his own experiences of life. 
 At last the day came for the final examinations, 
 which, not without difficulty, he succeeded in passing. 
 He thereby acquired the i)rivilege of serving only one 
 year in the ranks instead of three, and so towards the 
 end of his nineteenth year he donned the uniform of 
 a common soldier in a Saxon regiment. When his 
 term of service was over, he had nearly reached his 
 majority, and he retired to his ancestral home to await 
 there patiently the arrival of that eventful day, which 
 would completely emancipate him from the control 
 of others. His coming of age was naturally a great 
 event in the family, and as many of his relatives as 
 could be gathered together met at the Castle of 
 Klinkensteiu to celebrate the day. In the morning 
 his guardian. Count Eckstein, handed over to him the 
 management of his estates, giving him an account of 
 his stewardshi]), and informing him that he was now 
 the jjossessor of an income of over six thousand pounds 
 a year. The first act of Count Klinkensteiu, much 
 against the advice of his uncle and his other relatives, 
 was to settle an annuity of a thousand pounds a year 
 upon his sister ; so one may well imagine his anger
 
 28 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 when he heard that iii<rht at the club that there were 
 people who said that he liad behaved badly to her aud 
 refused her money. 
 
 lu the eveniu": after the })anquet brother aud sister 
 weut out into the <rard('n, for it was a warm July 
 night, with nearly a full moon shining through the 
 trees ; they strolled together through the charmilles 
 aud the walks, and recalled to each otlier for the 
 hundredth time the hapjjy days of their early child- 
 hood in Florence. The Countess Gisele was full of 
 joy and enthusiasm, for she could now afford to live in 
 Italy, yhe spoke to her brother of his future life, and 
 expressed a hope that he would take to some pro- 
 fession, and not remain idle. She wished him to enter 
 dii)lomacy, like their father ; but he replied, " My 
 uncle will not hear of it, for he says that a Count 
 Klinkensteiu ought to have but one profession : he 
 should be a soldier." 
 
 " Those are i)rejudices of caste,"' she rei)lied, " for 
 every profession is noble if its aim is worthy. ^Vhy 
 should the arts of war be considered more estimable 
 than the arts of peace ? It seems to me that our 
 nobility is full of illusions. Because the social line 
 dividing them from the rest of the pojiulation is so 
 marked, they have been led to believe that a similar 
 line runs through all the professions and relations of 
 life. It is unfortunate that a man of birth in this 
 country must either be idle all his life, or he must 
 choose between entering the profession of arms or 
 becoming a chamberlain at Court ; there is no other 
 opening for him, unless he wishes to outrage the 
 feelings of Ids family and be considered au eccentric.
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 29 
 
 Take my advice, my dear Edward ; do not stay long 
 in the provincial society of a small capital like Dresden, 
 for yonr feelings and thonghts will only get narrowed 
 thereby. If you must have no profession, now that 
 you are young and independent, travel at least and 
 see the world. Next week I leave for Italy ; join me 
 there, and we will revisit Florence together, and the 
 garden at Fiesole where we spent our youth." 
 
 He consented, for the idea of seeing Italy again 
 pleased him, and he felt a strong desire to get away 
 from the uninteresting society in which his boyhood 
 had been spent, and he longed to see new faces and 
 new cities, and to be free to indulge in adventures of 
 all kinds. 
 
 The guests had left the castle, and Count Klinken- 
 stein, finding the place intolerably dull now that he 
 was left alone, was hurrying on the preparations for 
 the journey he proposed to imdertake with his sister, 
 when he received a peremi)tory telegram from his 
 uncle summoning him to Berlin. He left by the next 
 train, and what was his surprise when Count Eckstein 
 informed him that he had procured for him a commission 
 as an officer in the Gardes du Corps, It required 
 little ijersuasion to make him accept it ; for Berlin, 
 which he had not as yet visited, seemed to him to 
 be a large and populous city, where amusements and 
 pleasures could surely be found ; so giving up the 
 idea of going to Italy with his sister, Count Klinken- 
 stein appeared a few days later wearing the uniform 
 of a sub-lieutenant in the proud regiment of the 
 Gardes du Corps.
 
 3<) OLGA ZAXELLI. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ON k'avin<r the Jockey CluL Count Kliukeutsteiu 
 went t>traiglit to bis rooms. He at ouce 
 summoned his faitliful servant Hans, who hacl heeu 
 born and })red on one of the Klinkenstein j)r()])erties, 
 and wlio liad served with his father and been attached 
 to the young Count from his earliest years. When he 
 appeared Count Klinkenstein said to him : '' Go at 
 once to Baron Zerbiuo, and beg him to come and see 
 me as quickly as possible. Tell him that I must 
 sec him to-night." 
 
 Count Klinkenstein, who was living out of barracks., 
 had taken rooms on the first floor of a house situated 
 in the Friedrichstrasse, the noisiest thoroughfare in 
 Berlin, and nearly at the corner where that street 
 crosses the avenue of the Unter den Linden. He had 
 two large comfortable sitting-rooms, whicli he had 
 furnished with Eastern carpets and divans, and 
 draped ^\^th Japanese embroideries and Indian silks 
 of gaudy hues. On the walls were hung engravings 
 of the latest nudities from the Paris Salon, for the 
 Count was a great admirer of female beauty, and very 
 amorously inclined. 
 
 " You look pale and unwell to-night," remarked 
 the servant, as he divested his master of his cloak 
 and cap, and removed his sword.
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 31 
 
 " Never mind," rej)lied Count Klinkeustein, sharply; 
 " go about your business and fetch the Baron ; if he 
 is not at home, ascertain where he is spending the 
 evening ; follow him then from jilace to place until 
 you have found him, and deliver my message. Do 
 you understand ? I must see him to-night." 
 
 Hans retired witliout venturing any more remarks, 
 but he thought to himself that surely something strange 
 had happened to his master, for he had never before 
 seen him in such a petulant state. A few minutes 
 later the slamming of the house door informed the 
 Count that the faithful Hans had gone upon his errand. 
 
 Baron Zerbino was a young man of about twenty- 
 seven years of age, and one of the secretaries of the 
 Italian Embassy. He had come to Berlin about the 
 same time that Count Klinkeustein had joined the 
 Gardes du Corps, and very soon a great intimacy had 
 sprung up between the two, for Count Klinkeustein 
 was one of those men of weak character who feel 
 the want of having a companion always near them 
 and who would be miserable if left to themselves. 
 By the Baron's appearance one would never have 
 thought that he was a Southerner, for he had the 
 fair complexion and hair of a Teuton ; in stature 
 he was small, and he was the possessor of a par- 
 ticularly shrill voice, which irritated one's nerves, 
 especially when, in the middle of a friendly discussion, 
 he would take to shouting at the top of his voice. 
 He was absolutely free from shyness, — one might 
 almost say that he was pushing and devoid of 
 modesty ; but, in spite of many faults, he was liked 
 by those who knew him well, for he was really a
 
 32 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 tondcr-lu'Hrted creature, and ready to j)ut liimself to 
 inconvenience for liis friends. He had sjjent some 
 years at the Italian Embassy in London, and while 
 there had learnt to speak En^rlish ^^^th fluency ; he 
 left it with regret, and came to Berlin a confirmed 
 Anglomaniac. Such was the person Count Klinken- 
 stein had selected to be one of his seconds in the 
 duels which he contem})lated fighting. 
 
 "When his servant liad left the room, (,'onnt 
 Klinkenstein threw himself on a divan, and buried 
 his head in his hands. He could not lielp reviewing 
 in his mind what his past life had been during the 
 last seven or eight months since he had been in 
 Berlin : much going into society, much running after 
 actresses and ballet girls ; many sui)i)er parties, 
 lasting into the early hours of the morning ; much 
 hard drinking, card j)laying, and losing of money ; 
 and now it would ])robaljly all end with his death in a 
 few days. He could not help wishing that he had fol- 
 lowed his sister's advice and gone to Italy ; he would 
 have been really hapi)ier with her than leading the 
 life he had done of late in Berlin. But such regrets 
 were vain, and the consequences of his impetuosity and 
 rashness were facing him in the form of three duels 
 which it seemed impossible for him to avoid. 
 
 Count Klinkenstein had been occupied with these 
 meditations for more than an hour when a ring at 
 his door made him get up to open it, as his senant 
 liad gone out. He liojjcd it would be his friend 
 the Baron, for whom he was anxiously waiting ; but 
 it jiroved to be only a messenger from his colonel, 
 with an answer to the letter he had sent nskin'j" for
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 33 
 
 a few days' leave of absence. It was a civil note, 
 in which the colonel granted him his request. The 
 receipt of it roused Count Klinkensteiu from his 
 dreams and meditations to a perception of the reality 
 of his position, and to a remembrance of the many 
 preparations he had to make before starting. There 
 were rapiers and swords and pistols enough in his 
 room to select from, and he now jiroceeded to examine 
 the blades of his rapiers carefully, and to test them 
 by making passes in the air at imaginary adversaries. 
 Having selected those he wanted, he sat down at his 
 wiiting-table, and with a great effort wrote a letter 
 to his sister, which should be given to her in the 
 event of his death. It was a mournful composition, 
 full of regrets at the pain he had caused her, of 
 sorrow that he would probably see her no more, and 
 of expressions of calm resignation to the consequences 
 of his rash act which had led him into fighting these 
 duels ; he avoided, however, mentioning that it was 
 for her sake that he was risking his life. He had 
 just put the letter into an envelope, and written out 
 instructions that it was only to be posted four days 
 hence, if he had not returned by then, when the 
 shrill voice of Baron Zerbino was heard on the stair- 
 case, shouting, " Klinkensteiu, are you at home ? " 
 The Count jumped up, and hastening to the door, 
 let in the little Baron. 
 
 " AVhat is the matter with you, old fellow ? You 
 seem very agitated indeed. Has one of your neglected 
 loves threatened to throw vitriol over you ? " inquired 
 the Baron, as Hans, who had returned, helped him 
 to divest himself of his cloak, exposing the small 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 (ILCJA /ANKLLI. 
 
 ])erson of the Italian attired in faultless evening 
 dress, with a «rai'denia in the button-hole, and with an 
 immaculate sliirt front decorated with a large central 
 stud of brilliant gems, for the Baron was nothing 
 if not English in his ways and dress. As Count 
 Klinkenstein and the Italian nobleman both siK>ke 
 English and French with fluency, their conversation 
 was usually carried on in one of those two languages. 
 
 " My dear Zerbino, jjlease do not joke, for the 
 matter is far too serious," said the Count, who then 
 turned to his sen-ant and ordered him to pack uj) 
 enough things to last for a few days, and to leave 
 the room. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all these weapons ? '* 
 asked the Baron, witli surprise. " Do you ])ropose to 
 fight a duel ? " 
 
 " That is exactly what I want to do, Zerbino, and 
 I would like you to be one of my seconds." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " shrieked the Baron ; " my 
 dear Klinkenstein, what have you been doing to-night 
 since I left you ? Have you been making love to 
 another man's wife, and been kicked out of the house 
 in consecpience ? Tell me all about it, and let me know 
 the name of the person you are going to fight with. 
 I do not mind being one of your seconds, for the 
 ' Code du Duel ' says that the first duty of a good 
 second is to try and j>revent a duel from taking ])lace." 
 
 Baron Zerbino liad himself fought several duels, 
 and his library was full of ])Ooks on the subject, so 
 that he was well com])etent to express an ojiinion 
 as to how one might take another man's life accord- 
 ing to the rules of lionour.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 35 
 
 Count Kliukenstein then related to his friend what 
 had occurred that night at the Jockey Chib, and he 
 added, " Now do not try and dissuade me from 
 fighting ; that I must challenge these persons is 
 inevitable ; if I do not do so it will be impossible 
 for me to remain a day longer in my regiment. 
 Every one will know to-morrow that I had a scene 
 with Count Immersdorf at the club, and that I 
 swore that I would call out the three men who had 
 spoken disparagingly of me ; to back out of it now 
 would be cowardly ; it is impossible for an officer 
 of the Guards to bluster, and then to do nothing. 
 I, will leave to-morrow morning early for Baden- 
 Baden. Will you accompany me ? " 
 
 " I will," replied the Baron, lapug aside his chaff 
 and assuming for once a serious look ; " but you 
 must let yourself be guided entirely by me, and 
 you must promise to do nothing rashly. I must 
 confess that I do not see the absolute necessity of 
 your fighting at all. If it turns out to be true that 
 the colonel and his friends made these statements 
 reflecting ni)on you and your sister, I feel sure that 
 they will not hesitate to apologise when it is pointed 
 out to them that they made statements which were 
 unfounded." 
 
 " Apologise I " exclaimed Count Kliukenstein, turning 
 round sharply upon his friend. " Do not talk nonsense, 
 Zerbino. Do you suppose that three men are going to 
 apologise from fear of me ? You seem to imagine that 
 I have the reputation of being a crack duellist like 
 Cassagnac or Rochefort. They will laugh at the idea 
 of my asking them to apologise. Apologise, indeed I
 
 WC) OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 Good God I Tlu'V will do nothing of the sort ; they 
 will fight and kill nie. Do not irritate me with use- 
 less sn])]»ositious." 
 
 " If they are gentlemen, as I have no reason to doubt 
 they are, I do not see why they should be ashamed 
 of apologising, if they find that they were mistaken. 
 Klinkenstein, when does the train leave to-morrow?" 
 
 " At seven." 
 
 " I shall meet you at the station," said the Baron, 
 putting on Lis cloak ; " and now, good-night, Klinken- 
 stein ; it is nearly one o'clock. I must leave you, for 
 you are in a very excited state, and the best thing for 
 you to do under the circumstances is to go to bed and 
 sleep. When one is about to fight a duel one's nerves 
 ought to be calm and in good order." 
 
 " I am afraid that it is no use my trying to sleep 
 to-night," replied the Count, accomi)auying his friend 
 to the door. " I feel in a strange state at present, and 
 my mind is full of thoughts. Good-niglit, and many 
 thanks for coming with me to-morrow, and pray do 
 not be late." 
 
 The next morning Count Klinkenstein, having dis- 
 carded his uniform and assumed civilian dress, arrived 
 early at the station, looking haggard and worn, like a 
 man who lias passed an anxious and sleepless night. 
 His servant, Hans, had charge of his luggage, which 
 consisted chiefly of pistol cases, rapiers, and swords. 
 It was not till the train was on the point of starting 
 that the little Baron appeared ui)on the platform, and 
 he had only just time to jump in before the train began 
 to move out of the station. 
 
 " Yon run it rather fine," said Count Klinkenstein,
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 6i 
 
 rather ill-lmniouredly ; " you would liave ])ut me to a 
 great iucouveuieuce if you had been left behind." 
 
 " Never miud, Kliukenstein," replied ZerLiuo ; " it is 
 all right now ; I shall be present to pick you up if you 
 get killed." 
 
 It was one of the Baron's habits to be invariably late, 
 as he thought that it was the i)roper thing, and always 
 done in England. 
 
 " How dej^ressed you are this morning, to be sure," 
 he continued ; " this will never do ; a man cannot 
 fight a duel in the state you are in." 
 
 And then the good-natured Baron indulged in jokes, 
 which had but little effect upon the Count, and he 
 tried to raise his friend's spirits by giving him an 
 account of many famous duels, and pointing out to him 
 how very few had proved fatal ; he also assured him 
 that he saw no reasons why in a few days they should 
 not both return safe and sound, and that it was a 
 ridiculous thing to look at the worst side of things. 
 But the Count's ears were closed to all attempts to 
 raise his spirits, and he lay in the corner of the carriage 
 silent and depressed, thinking over the folly of the 
 social law which compelled him to travel a long dis- 
 tance to try and kill a man he did not know, or, what 
 was much more probable, to get killed himself. 
 
 It was dark by the time they reached Baden-Baden, 
 and the two friends, entering a cab, drove in silence to 
 an hotel, for even the Baron's spirits were beginning 
 to be depressed by contact with the gloominess of 
 (/ount Kliukenstein. They ordered supper, but neither 
 of them felt much inclined to eat, and they both of 
 them soon retired to pass a restless night.
 
 38 OLGA ZANELLl. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IT was early in the morning when Hans brought 
 liis master some cofifee, and found him already 
 dressed and looking out of the window, from which 
 there was an extensive view of the valley of the Oes 
 and the hills of the Black Forest. It was a beautiful 
 day at the latter end of April ; the trees were unusually 
 full of sprouts and buds, the sun was shining warm 
 and bright, and Nature seemed to the ( 'ount to be more 
 full of beauty and loveliness than he had ever noticed 
 l)efore. The faithful retainer, who was now aware 
 what the object of the journey was, kei)t fussing about 
 the room hoping that Ids master would begin talking 
 to him, as was his wont when he brought him his 
 l)reakfast in the morning ; but on this occasion Count 
 Klinkenstein remained silent, wrajjped ujt in the con- 
 temjilation of the landscape before him. At last Hans, 
 unable to bear it any longer, ventured to ask whether 
 he should j)our out some coffee, but he had to rej)eat 
 his (question a second time before his master took any 
 notice of him, who, turning round sharply, rejjlied, — 
 
 " You are an old idiot, Hans ! Take the beastly 
 stuff away, and bring me some brandy ; I feel very 
 ill. "Where is the Baron ? Is he not yet uj) ? I 
 8Uj)pose you have forgotten to call him ? '' 
 
 Hans (lisapjicared as (piickly as jjossible, for lie had
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 39 
 
 never been addressed so roughly before. When he 
 returned with the brandy he was followed by Baron 
 Zerbino, who had hurriedly slipj^ed on a pair of flannel 
 trousers and a gaudy dressing-gown. 
 
 " What on earth is the matter with you, Klinken- 
 stein ? AVhat is the meaning of calling me up so 
 early, and sending for brandy ? Are you ill ? " 
 
 " I do not know, but I feel very queer. What 
 o'clock is it ? " 
 
 " Just past seven ; now do not be foolish, Klinken- 
 stein, go to bed again, as I mean to do ; who ever 
 thinks of getting up at this hour ! It is to-morrow 
 morning that you will have to get up early, if the duel 
 takes place at all, not to-day. As yet you have not so 
 mui'h as challenged your adversary." 
 
 '' Zerbino, I want you to come with me at once to 
 do so. I cannot stand this susi)ense any longer ; I 
 must get the business over as quickly as possible." 
 
 " You are jjerfectly mad, Klinkenstein I You ex- 
 pect me to accompany you at this early hour of the 
 morning in order to challenge a jjerson we neither of 
 us know. I never heard of anything so ridiculous. 
 If we went at present we should probably find the 
 gentleman in bed ; moreover, I am not yet dressed, 
 and have not even had my breakfast, and I hold it to 
 be wicked to look upon the world till one has had one's 
 proper amount of sleep, otherwise one feels out of sorts 
 and sees everything in black colours. I shall certainly 
 return to my bed, and I strongly advise you to do the 
 same." 
 
 " It is impossible," replied the Count, taking his 
 hat and stick. " I cannot stay here ; I shall go and
 
 40 OLGA ZANKLLl. 
 
 take a walk \>y myself." So ( 'uuut Kliiikciistciii left 
 the room, and the little Baron returned to his bed to 
 sleep for another hour or two. 
 
 It was nearly eleven o'clock when the Count re- 
 turned, for he had taken a long walk, and the quiet 
 and freshness of the forest and tlie resinous smell of 
 the i)iues had done him good, and lie was much caluier. 
 Baron Zerbino was now ready, and he was seated on 
 a bench at the hotel door smoking a cigarette and 
 waiting for the return of his friend. He had dressed 
 himself with great care for the solemn business which 
 he had in hand. He was wearing trousers of a light 
 colour decomted with rather large checks. He had on 
 a frock coat, with a flower in his button-hole, and an 
 aggressively large diamond ])in was stuck in his tie. 
 It was difficult to decide which was the more brilliant, 
 his immaculate top hat or his varnished boots. 
 
 " One would think you were going to be married," 
 remarked Count Klinkeustein, as he came up. " What 
 is the meaning of such a turn-out on an occasion like 
 this ? " 
 
 " I like everything done in proper style," retorted the 
 Baron. " It seems to me that to go and challenge a 
 man is quite as serious a business as to get married. 
 Then why should you dress well u])on the cue occasion, 
 and not upon the other ? " 
 
 " Do as you like, Zerbino ; but I must confess that 
 you seem to take the matter very lightly. It is hardly 
 a time for mas(pierading. Come along ; let us get the 
 business over before lunch." 
 
 " Masfjuerading ! " shrieked tlu' Baron, in liis shril- 
 lest voice. " Do you call it mascpierading to be dn-sscd
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 41 
 
 as a gentleman would be in Paris or London ? My 
 dear Klinkenstein, you people in Berlin have no idea 
 of what it is to be well dressed. Walk any day down 
 your Unter den Linden, and look at the men of good 
 position you meet there. If they are not in uniform, 
 they are dressed like guys ; coats cut like sacks, 
 trousers which do not fit, boots large and crudely 
 made ; and as for the hats, it seems to me that every 
 man you meet wears a differently shaped one. A well- 
 dressed man is unknown in Berlin. If you were to 
 put up to auction the clothes of all the men you meet 
 on a Sunday in the Linden, I am sure that they would 
 not average twenty marks apiece. My good fellow, do 
 not try and teach me how to dress, for I flatter myself 
 that I have studied the matter seriously, and not 
 without some success. I sincerely hope, however, that 
 you are not going as you are." 
 
 " I certainly shall," replied the Count, who was 
 dressed in a shooting suit and a felt hat, and whose 
 trousers and boots were covered with the dust accumu- 
 lated during a long walk. " I am going to challenge 
 Colonel von Bergmann, and I cannot see that it will 
 very much matter to him in what costume I do it." 
 
 Having inquired of the hotel porter the address of the 
 Colonel, and having obtained the necessary informa- 
 tion. Count Klinkenstein started, with the Baron, in 
 quest of his adversary. As they neared the house the 
 Count began to walk slower and slower, and when the 
 Baron made a remark about it, he replied, " The whole 
 business is so intensely foolish. What am I to tell 
 the Colonel when I see him ? I cannot begin by 
 calling him out and expressing a wish to take his
 
 42 (>L(;a zaxklli. 
 
 life. I must first exiiluin the whole story to him, 
 and tliat is so very long. I do not know how I am 
 to put it. I do uot know what to say. I do not know 
 what is t(^ he done." With that the Count passed 
 the house door, and began to walk to the end of the 
 street. 
 
 " I think this is the house," remarked the Baron ; 
 " shall I ring the bell ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not I " shouted the Count, in reply ; 
 " I am not half ready with my speech ; I cannot find 
 the words I want. What shall 1 do ! " 
 
 So they both walked up and down that street, 
 passing and re-passing the Colonel's house several 
 times, and considerably alarming the policeman on 
 that beat, wlio kei)t watching them narrowly, unable 
 to make out what they were uj) to. All of a sudden 
 Count Klinkenstein started running for the house, and 
 having reached it, he i)ulled the bell so violently that 
 the connecting wire broke, and the knob remained in 
 his hands. 
 
 " You are perfectly mad to behave like this I " gasped 
 the little Baron, as he came up panting behind his 
 friend. 
 
 " I cannot helji it ; it had to be done. Now I am in 
 for it, and, tlumk God, there is no escaping I " said 
 Count Klinkenstein, as he heard the footsteps of a 
 servant hurrnng to open the door. 
 
 A servant in a smart livery aj)peared, and inipiired 
 what they wanted. 
 
 " What 1 want is your master," said the Count ; 
 '' and tlie sooner he shows himself the better. Where 
 is he ? "
 
 OLCiA ZANELLI. 4^ 
 
 " I do not kuow/' replied tlie servant ; " but I do not 
 believe that he will receive you." 
 
 " Who asked you for your opinion ? " roared Count 
 Klinkenstein at the top of his voice. '' Fetch your 
 master out at once, for I am in the liumour to-day to 
 kill people." 
 
 " Then it ^W11 certainly be my duty to keep you out 
 of the house," answered the servant, trying to shut 
 the house door ; but Count Klinkensteiu pushed him 
 back, and rushing past, began mounting the staircase 
 three steps at a time, in which feat of agility he was 
 imitated by the little Baron. On reaching the landing 
 he pushed open a door and found himself in a sitting- 
 room. Colonel von Bergmann was seated at his 
 writing-table, and as Count Klinkensteiu rushed in, 
 he turned round astonished and inquired what was the 
 meaning of this intrusion. Now that Count Klinken- 
 steiu was face to face with the man he had come to 
 challenge he found himself at a loss for words to 
 express his purpose, and with difficulty muttered, " I 
 presume you are Colonel von Bergmann ? " 
 
 " I am the person you name," replied the Colonel^ 
 rising from his chair. 
 
 '' Then I must present myself," replied the Count. 
 " I am Count Klinkensteiu, of Klinkensteiu, in Saxony, 
 and a sub-lieutenant in his Majesty's regiment of the 
 Gardes du Corps." 
 
 " I am very pleased to make your acquaintance," 
 said the Colonel, with a good-humoured smile, and 
 extending his hand. 
 
 Count Klinkensteiu drew back, and there followed 
 for a few moments a painful i)ause, until he began to
 
 44 oUi\ ZANELLI. 
 
 stammer out slowly, " I do not (luitc know how to say 
 wliat I have come ont to tell yon. It is a very dis- 
 agreeable business." 
 
 " Oh ! if that is the case, by all means let ns sit 
 down ; we shall be more comfortable seated than 
 standing," said the Colonel, as he pointed to a chair, 
 smiling, for he could not help feeling a little amused 
 at the young officer's embarrassment. " Now let me 
 hear the serious business which has l)rought you here." 
 
 " You have insulted my sister and myself, and I 
 have come to call you out," exclaimed Count Klinken- 
 steiu with a sigli of relief. 
 
 " It is a case of calling out," remarked the 
 •Colonel ; " then it is indeed a serious business which 
 has brought you here. I supi)Ose that young gentle- 
 man who has come along with you is to be one of 
 your seconds ? Pray introduce me to liim, for you 
 forgot to do so on entering." 
 
 " Baron Zerbino, Secretary of the Italian Embassy 
 in Berlin," answered Count Klinkenstein, dryly, for he 
 was beginning to get annoyed at the geniality of his 
 adversary. 
 
 " Very glad to make your acquaintance," continued 
 the Colonel ; " gentlemen, can I offer yon anvthing to 
 drink?" 
 
 Count Klinkenstein declined ; but the Baron, who 
 felt warm after his walk uj) and down the street and 
 his sul)se(iuent rapid ascent of the staircase, asked for 
 a brandy-and-soda, wliich was soon brought to him. 
 
 '' I suppose it is all settled now," said Count Klin- 
 kenstein, after a few moments of silence. " "We sliall 
 proba])ly have to fight to-uiorrow, for I liave very little
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 45 
 
 time to spare ; aud now I shall go and try and find 
 another gentleman who may act with the Baron as my 
 second, and they will settle matters of detail." 
 
 " You seem to be in a very great hurry to cross 
 swords with me," replied the Colonel, laughing. " But 
 pray, Count, what are we going to fight about ? " 
 
 " I thought you had understood, sir ; did I not tell 
 you that you had insulted my sister and myself ? Is 
 that not sufficient reason for calling you out ? " 
 
 " It certainly would be a sufficient cause," replied 
 the Colonel ; " but at the present moment I have no 
 recollection of my ever having done so." 
 
 " You do not remember ? " exclaimed Count Klin- 
 kenstein, astonished ] after which he began to explain 
 all that had taken place two nights before at the 
 Jockey Club. 
 
 " It now comes back to me," replied the Colonel. 
 " A few months ago Captain von Hahn and Herr Nader 
 were dining with me, and in the conrse of conversation 
 one of them mentioned your father's name, aud I re- 
 marked that your sister who is married had been left in 
 bad circumstances. This was no doubt the case before 
 you came of age. I am very glad, however, to hear that 
 you have since settled some money on her, and I there- 
 fore beg to express to you my sincere regret that any 
 remarks I may have made at a private dinner i)arty 
 respecting yourself an^l your family should have been 
 repeated abroad by Count Immersdorf, and caused you 
 pain. If it can give you any satisfaction, I will hand 
 you a written apology, and I feel sure that the other 
 gentlemen connected "v\ath me in this aftair will wil- 
 linfflv affix their names thereto."
 
 40 (»LGA /ANKLLI. 
 
 Connt Kliiikoiistcin could not refuse this offer, but 
 ho was quite overcome with surprise tliat any one 
 should j)refer to ajioloErise to him than to fi^rht a duel ; 
 and it was with the greatest interest that he watched 
 the Colonel seat himself at his desk and write out the 
 follo\^nng apology, — 
 
 " We, the undersigned, having on an occasion talked 
 about Count Klinkenstein's family, and spoken dis- 
 paragingly about liis conduct towards his sister, do 
 hereby acknowledge that we were mistaken in our 
 remarks, and we consequently retract all we may have 
 said, and fully ai)ologise for any annoyance which we 
 may have caused him." 
 
 At the bottom of the page the Colonel jilaced his 
 signature and the date. 
 
 " I will obtain the signatures of the other gentlemen 
 at once,'' said the Colonel, laying down liis })en ; "and 
 I will then send you the document to your hotel. You 
 will get it in a couple of hours. By the way, when do 
 you return to Berlin ? " 
 
 " To-morrow morning," replied Count Klinkenstein, 
 shaking his adversary's hand, now that everything was 
 settled. 
 
 " Then do me the ])leasure of both dining here to- 
 night. I shall try and get the two other ])ersons you 
 wished to challenge to come also. I admire you. Count 
 Klinkenstein, for having come all the way to fight a 
 duel about statements which had been made resj)ecting 
 your sister. You are young, and it is riglit that you 
 should be brave and not fear to call men out when you 
 think you have been insulted by them. AVhen you 
 will get to be of my age, and have j)ersons dependent
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 4/ 
 
 upon von, vou will tliiuk twice before you risk your 
 life." ' ' 
 
 The Colonel's invitation having been accepted, Count 
 Klinkenstein and the Baron left the house. 
 
 " I told you it would end like this," remarked the 
 Baron, directly the house door had been closed behind 
 them. '' The man would have been a fool if he had not 
 apologised." 
 
 " You may think so, perhaps," replied the Count ; 
 " but for my part had I been in the Colonel's place, 
 and a young fellow had burst into my room and pro- 
 ceeded to challenge me, apparently without cause, I 
 would have kicked him out of the house and so 
 certainly have brought about a duel. I cannot tell you, 
 my dear Zerbino, what a relief it is to me that this 
 business has been settled. It has been like a night- 
 mare to me." 
 
 Then the Count, taking the Baron's arm, strolled 
 back to his hotel, laughing and singing aloud, and 
 amusing himself by chaffing the policemen he met and 
 making love to the nursery maids. He was in high 
 spirits, and on reaching the hotel he ordered a big 
 luncheon and had champagne bottles put in ice, for he 
 meant to have a high time of it. While luncheon was 
 being prepared he went uj^stairs to change his dress, 
 for though he thought it good enough to challenge 
 a man in, it no longer seemed suitable in his eyes for 
 sitting down to lunch with the spick and span little 
 Baron. While dressing he discharged out of his 
 window all the ammunition he had brought with him 
 for his pistols. It caused a great alarm in the hotel, 
 and an excited chambermaid, rushing into his room to
 
 48 OLCJA ZANKLLI. 
 
 ascertain the cause of the firinor, had her alarm further 
 increased by catdiing siglit of the Count's person with 
 very little clothing on. 
 
 During luncheon Count Klinkenstein received the 
 precious document, duly signed with the three names, 
 which thus ])ut an end to all idea of his having to fight 
 any duels. Having dmnk much champagne and sat a 
 long time over their coffee and cigars, they ordered a 
 carriage and took a drive. That evening tliey dined 
 with tlie Colonel and his friends, and the party did 
 not break u]) till late in the night.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EARLY the next day Count Klinkenstein and 
 Baron Zerbino left Baden-Baden on their return 
 journey to Berlin. The Count was still in very high 
 spirits, and with difficulty could be kept in order by 
 his friend. Whenever the train stopped at a station 
 he would lean out of the window and chaff the 
 passengers on the platform and generally irritate the 
 officials ; and one railway guard whose dignity he had 
 offended was only soothed on receiving a handsome tip. 
 Towards evening the train entered the station of Mag- 
 delnirg, and as there was a quarter of an hour's stoppage 
 here the Count got out and began j^acing the platform, 
 finding amusement in watching the passengers hurrying 
 backwards and forwards searching for seats in the train, 
 wliich happened to be very full. Suddenly his atten- 
 tion was drawn to a young girl who was evidently 
 looking for a seat in the train, but who seemed unable 
 to find one. She was alone ; her dress was simple, 
 but there was nevertheless a certain air of smartness 
 about her which could- not fail to strike the most casual 
 observer, and she was wearing a delightful little bonnet 
 which suited her admirably. There was something 
 about her appearance and her manners which was un- 
 deniably fascinating, and Count Klinkenstein remarked 
 as she turned round that her hair was brown and her 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 OLGA ZANELLl. 
 
 eyes (lark. She was very sclf-jtossfssed, tlion«rli with- 
 out a trace of effrontery, aiul she seemed very different 
 from the ordinary German maiden vsith her dowdy 
 appearance and fair hair plaited into the regulation 
 two tresses down her back. 
 
 The more the Count looked at her the more did he 
 get interested, and he followed her about tlie jdatfonu 
 trying not to let her notice that he was doing so. The 
 train was on the point of starting when the guard, 
 who had been much worried finding seats for all the 
 passengers, came up to her and said rather roughly, 
 ''Now, Fraulein, do you ■VN'ish to be left Itehind ? If 
 not, look alive and jump in ; there is room for you 
 here." With that he tried to push her into a third- 
 class compartment in which there were already several 
 rough-looking individuals who began making coarse 
 jokes at the prospect of having so fair a travelling 
 comi)aniou. Count Klinkenstein immediately rushed 
 forward and, taking off his hat to the young girl, offered 
 her a seat in his carriage. She readily accepted it, and 
 the Count had but just time to send for another first- 
 class ticket and to helj) her in before the train began 
 steaming out of the station. 
 
 " May 1 ask your name, Fraulein ? " said the Count, 
 in his sweetest manner. 
 
 '' Olga Zanelli," she replied ; " my grandfather 
 originally came from Venice, but he settled in Berlin 
 many years ago with his fjimily, antl I was born in 
 that city.'' 
 
 " And you are going hack to Berlin ? *" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Tliat is delightful," added the Count ; ''then we
 
 OLGA ZANELLl. 51 
 
 sliall have your company all the way. But are you 
 not afraid of travelling like this all by yourself ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, without hesitation ; " I am sure 
 no one would willingly do me any harm, and I am not 
 sufficiently Avell oif to fear that I may be robbed." 
 
 " When a girl has as pretty a face as hers one need 
 not go very far to fall into dangers," remarked Baron 
 Zerbino in French. She evidently understood what 
 he had said, for she blushed and turned her face away, 
 and looking out of the window watched for a time the 
 sun setting in the sandy jjlain of Brandenburg. 
 
 " Are you going back to your friends in Berlin ? " 
 inquired C^ount Klinkenstein after a pause, for he felt 
 a strong desire to find out something more regarding 
 liis fair travelling companion. She did not answer at 
 first, then, turning her face towards him, she replied in 
 the sweetest voice imaginable, " I have no friends." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " exclaimed Count Klinkenstein. 
 " What are you doing in Berlin all alone ? Have you 
 really got no friends, no relations, no one to look after 
 you?" 
 
 " I am a milliner's assistant, sir ; they pay me well 
 enough, because they say that I have more taste than 
 the others. I look after the shop generally, and 
 live with my mistress. I have neither father, nor 
 mother, nor brother, nor sister." 
 
 A thrill went threugh Count Klinkenstein as he 
 thought he noticed moisture in her large dark eyes. 
 " Do you like that kind of life ? " he said, with a voice 
 trembling slightly from fear that the question might 
 hurt her feelings, for there was no man more delicate 
 towards women, however low their station, tlian the 
 
 Li k...{ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 Count, and on tliis occasion lie could not lu'lj) feeling 
 a stranire syni]»atliy for the lonely jrirl. 
 
 " I luite my ])resent life," she re]>lied, witliout any 
 hesitation. " I hate eveiTthing about it ; itsdmdgery 
 and the long hours of work ; I hate my comi)anions, 
 who have no ideas in their heads ; I hate my mistress, 
 who tliinks of nothing but making money ; I hate the 
 very people who come to buy, and who never say a 
 kind word to you, but who find fault with all you 
 offer them, and who are supercilious and rude. I am 
 trying to find some more congenial em])loyment," she 
 added, with a sigh ; " but there are so many disaj>- 
 pointments in life that perhai)s we are hajipier if we 
 go tlirough with our daily work listlessly and hope for 
 nothing better." 
 
 " Have you been trnng to find some emjiloyment 
 in Magdeburg ? " inquired the Count, taking more and 
 more interest in her. 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " I had heard that the 
 manager of the theatre there wanted a young girl 
 who could sing well enough to take a minor part 
 in an oi)erette. I ])resented myself to-day, but he 
 would not take me. He said he liad already made 
 his choice." 
 
 " I am sorry you should have been disappointed," 
 said the Count ; " was your voice not good enough ? " 
 
 " The manager told me that my voice and my 
 api)e5irance were both in my favour, but that a girl 
 who had no money would not get on, as she would be 
 unable to stand tlie expense of being well dressed on 
 the stage. The girl he had chosen was ]>rotected by 
 a well-to-do officer of tlie MairdcburL' LMrrison."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 53 
 
 " Do you care very much about the theatre ? " 
 inquired Count Klinkenstein. 
 
 " I am i^assionately fond of it," she replied ; "as a 
 child I used to dance at the Victoria Theatre, — that 
 was when my father led the orchestra at that house, 
 but after his death my mother took me away ; she 
 was German, and always hated the idea of my ai)pear- 
 ing before the public ; she thought that it was not 
 respectable. We were poor, so I had to take to 
 milliner's work." 
 
 " Were you ever taught to sing ? " inquired the 
 Count. 
 
 " My father used to give me lessons ; he taught me 
 many an Italian song which I sometimes still sing at 
 my work. He always talked to me in Italian ; but 
 now that he is dead I never hear that language 
 spoken." 
 
 " Do sing us something," said Count Klinkenstein 
 and Baron Zerbino at the same time, and they pressed 
 her so that she yielded at last and gave them Tuscan 
 peasant songs with a voice so soft and sweet that the 
 passengers in the other compartments of the train 
 leant out of the ^Wndows to listen to her, and Count 
 Klinkenstein, lying back in a corner of the carriage, 
 closed his eyes and dreamed himself back to the days 
 of his boyhood in Florence, when on autumn after- 
 noons he remembered hearing the peasants singing 
 such songs as they gathered the grapes on the hill 
 slopes of Fiesole. 
 
 So the time passed, and they were astonished when 
 they found themselves entering the Berlin station 
 brilliant with its electric lidit. Count Klinkenstein
 
 54 OL(iA ZANKLLI. 
 
 liaiidcd Ol.ira Ziinclli out of the carriage, aii«l asked her 
 if she woidd like to have Kuj)per \vitli him and the 
 Baron. She declined with many thanks, and as he 
 saw that she did not wish to come he made no further 
 attempts to press her, though he would have given a 
 good deal to have had tlie pleasure of her company. 
 Offering her his arm he threaded his way tiirough 
 the crowded station, and he said to her as they walked 
 along, " Give me your address, for it would be too 
 cmel not to let me see you again." She gave it him, 
 and the Count then hailed a cab and helped his fair 
 companion into it. He paid the fare in advance, and 
 bade the coachman drive to the address she had just 
 given him. As she drove away the Count raised his 
 hat, and remained standing on the steps of the station 
 following the cab with his eyes until it turned round a 
 corner and was lost to sight. 
 
 " 1 believe 3'ou are in love," said the Baron, who 
 had been searching for his friend among the crowd, 
 and who found him at last standing outside the 
 station. " Klinkenstein, do you mean to say that 
 yon have let her go ? " 
 
 " She would not stay," he replied. " I ^Nish she 
 had remained, for she has left an im])ression on me 
 which, so far, no other girl has done." 
 
 " Beware of Italian girls, my dear Klinkenstein ; 
 you do not know what they are. If they love, they 
 give themselves up body and soul to the man ; but 
 if you deeeive tliem they become jierfect tiends, and 
 yon are in imminent danger of losing your life. 
 Stick to your (lernian nniidens, my dear fellow ; 
 their affections are easily won. (Jive vour (Jretdien
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 00 
 
 snfiicieut to eat aud to drink iu tlie shape of beev 
 and sausages, throw in an occasional kiss or other 
 token of regard, especially in public places, and she 
 will be perfectly happy. Should you get tired of 
 her and leave her, she will, no doubt, shed tears at 
 first, but she will soon find some one else who will 
 console her for your loss. She is a sensible creature, 
 and her affections adapt themselves to the situation. 
 The Italian girl yearns for love ; the German maiden 
 is satisfied if she is spooned." Having delivered 
 himself of these Avise remarks, the little Baron began 
 humming aloud the air out of the Traviata, " 
 misterioso amore." 
 
 " It is all very fine to talk like that," replied the 
 Count ; " but we are not able to pick and choose 
 in matters of love. We are in the hands of Fate, 
 and we know not into whose arms we may be 
 thrown." Looking up at the illuminated clock of 
 the station, he added, "It is nearly ten o'clock ; 
 let us go and have something to eat, for I feel very 
 hungry." 
 
 " By all means," replied Zerbino, taking his friend's 
 arm, and then they walked up the Wilhelmstrasse, 
 and at the corner of the Unter den Linden entered 
 the well-known Restaurant des Ambassadeurs kept 
 by a Frenchman. 
 
 There are three tilings for which France has a 
 European reputation : military men of foolhardy 
 bravery, cooks of the highest quality, and demi- 
 mondaines with a genius for spending money. Now 
 Monsieur Lechef was a fine specimen of the second 
 category, and had come to Berlin as cook in the
 
 50 OLGA zaxp:lli. 
 
 snitt' of a Frt'in-li uinbiissador. He was not slow to 
 see tliat a restaurant where snj)erior eookin<i^ eoukl be 
 found would soon attract to itself the aristocracy of the 
 place, the youn<2: officers, and tlie foreign dijiloiuatists. 
 He therefore hired rooms in a central ])osition, and 
 his expectations were not slow to be realised, for very- 
 soon it became difficult to find an empty table in 
 his restaurant at dinner or luncheon-time. Monsieur 
 Lechef was a man of domestic habits, so he never 
 encouraged his restaurant being turned into a night 
 house. At ten o'clock the place was nearly always 
 empty, and if he had no customers by eleven he 
 would close his doors and retire to the society of his 
 wife, who every night had to listen to violent tirades 
 against everj-thing German, and to endless laments 
 that he was comj)elled to live in this sdcrc pays, 
 together with expressions of longing on his part for 
 the time when he would be able to return to France 
 with his i)ockets full of German gold. During the 
 daytime, however. Monsieur Lechef put aside all 
 signs of blatant and noisy patriotism, and in talking 
 to his guests he would eschew politics as he wt)uld 
 garlic in his food ; he never failed to illuminate his 
 restaurant on the Emperor's birthday, and he would 
 even go to the expense of having a flaming gas star 
 over the entrance ; nor did he forget on the birthdays 
 of even the most insignificant prince of the royal 
 family to hang out a i)rofusion of German and 
 Pmssian flags from his windows. So Monsieur 
 Lechef was looked upon by the authorities as an 
 inoffensive i)erson, and dukes and princes and old 
 generals who had led victorious armies into France
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 57 
 
 would patronise his establislimeut and talk to liim 
 condescendingly. 
 
 The only i)ersou in the restaurant when Count 
 Klinkenstein and the Baron entered it was Sydney 
 Gray, one of the secretaries at the British Embassy. 
 He had been in the country for the day and had just 
 returned, which accounted for the late hour at which 
 he was dining. As they all knew each other, the 
 Count and the Baron took seats at his table. 
 
 " What have you been doing during these last few 
 days ? I have not seen you about anywhere," said 
 Sydney Gray. 
 
 " I am just back from Baden-Baden, where I have 
 been settling a matter of honour." 
 
 " You do not mean to say that you have been ass 
 enough to fight a duel ? " exclaimed Sydney Gray. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," replied Count Klinkenstein ; 
 " it's all well that ends well. I meant to fight, but 
 they apologised, so there was no duel," and he 
 triumphantly flourished in the air the document with 
 the three signatures. 
 
 " It only shows that they were persons of great 
 common sense," remarked the Englishman. 
 
 " I quite agree with you ; I confess that I am 
 very glad they had enough moral courage to apologise, 
 or by this time I woald jjrobably be dead. I do not 
 think I am more of a coward than other men, but 
 I can assure you I will never forget the miserable 
 time I passed through wliile this duel was hanging 
 over me. I do not think I shall challenge any one 
 else in a hurry." Then the Count began drumming 
 upon the glasses with his knife to rouse the sleejjy
 
 58 <»IXJA ZANELLI. 
 
 waitcM-s, aiul he sent a message to Monsieur Lechef 
 to tell him to prepare a first-class sni)per, and he 
 ordered chamj)agne to l)e Ijronght and to lie put 
 in ice. 
 
 " You seem to he in very high spirits to-night," 
 remarked Sydney Gray. 
 
 " Klinkenstein is in love I " shrieked the little 
 Baron, pitching his voice in its shrillest notes, and 
 jumping about on his chair ; " he is in love : mfvdly 
 in love. I believe we shall see him married in a 
 month." 
 
 "How did all this come about ?"" incpiired Sydney 
 Gray ; " and who can be the fascinating syren who 
 has brought about this change in so short a space 
 of time ? " 
 
 Then Count Klinkenstein related how lie had made 
 the acquaintance of Olga Zanelli in the train, what 
 an impression she had made on him, and that he 
 had resolved to see her again as soon as i)Ossible. 
 Taking a glass of chamj)agne he emptied it. drinking 
 a toast to her. 
 
 " We shall have to look after you, my dear 
 Klinkenstein," remarked Sydney Gray, '' or you 
 will certainly be committing some folly." 
 
 " I am sure he will if he sees her again," echoed 
 the Baron ; " he has no experience of the ways of 
 women, and will believe all the nonsense they tell 
 him. This Olga Zanelli has every ]X)ssible defect. 
 She is a regular Bohemian, that is evident : she is 
 sufficiently pretty for Klinkenstein to fall in love 
 with her ; she seems clever, therefore she vnW squeeze 
 all the monev she can out of him : then slie is an
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 59 
 
 Italian, and to have a liaison with a native of my 
 country is like going straight to hell, for she will 
 most assuredly ruin your career, and make your life 
 miserable if you do not marry her. Why the deuce 
 do you want to fall in love, my dear Klinkeustein ? 
 Are there not amusements enough to be found in 
 Berlin without that ? Do not think about her any 
 more ; a liaison with a person of her position in life 
 has all the disadvantages of marriage without any of 
 its compensations." 
 
 "Zerbino exaggerates everything to-night," said 
 Count Klinkenstein, feeling rather annoyed. " Why 
 must one suppose that I am seriously in love with a 
 girl because I say I find her more interesting and 
 original than any other I have hitherto met ? I am 
 a free agent ; I can do as I please with mine own ; and 
 I have sufficient money to throw away upon whatever 
 gives me pleasure. I have promised Olga that I 
 would see her again ; I will not disappoint her ; 
 besides, what harm can she do me ? " 
 
 " That is not the only question which you should 
 consider, my dear Klinkenstein," remarked Sydney 
 Gray ; " is there not also the possibility of your doing 
 her harm ? You say the girl is poor and discontented 
 with her lot ; you are young and rich ; you will 
 sympathise with her and be kind to her. It seems to 
 me more than probable that she Mali fall in love with 
 you, just as you Avill, probably, fall in love with her. 
 I take it for granted that you have no intention of 
 marrying her ; well, then, remember that the time 
 will come when you will grow tired of her, and will 
 want to separate from her ; what will become of her
 
 60 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 then ? You will have mined her life and made her 
 miserable. Take my advice, and do not go and see her 
 again. No good can come of it, and i)robably a great 
 deal of harm. Avoid falling in love until you mean 
 to marry, and then I hojje it will l)e with .some one of 
 your own position in life." 
 
 " You seem to be in a very moral mood to-night," 
 replied Count Klinkenstein. " Pray let us have no 
 sermons, we are too young for that sort of thing ; let 
 US rather eat, drink, and be merry while we may, for 
 who can tell what may be in store for us ? " Then he 
 raised his glass and drank a toast to woman, without 
 whom life would be a blank. From women the con- 
 versation rolled to other subjects, and it was past 
 midnight before the convivial i)arty broke up, and 
 Count Klinkenstein retired to bed to dream of Olga 
 Zanelli.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 61 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GIACOMO ZANELLI was born in Yeuice of 
 unknown jjarents, and had been reared in a 
 foundling's hospital. He began life early as a 
 chorister in one of the parish churches, but later, on 
 account of the excellence of his voice, he was removed 
 to the choir of St. Mark's, where he remained for 
 many years. His sujieriors wished him to take the 
 lower orders of the priesthood, and were willing to 
 send him to a seminary to l)e trained, but he aljsolutely 
 refused to accede to this suggestion, and when the 
 pressure brought to bear upon him became too great 
 he ran away and joined a band of strolling j^layers. 
 For several years he travelled about with them, 
 stopping to perform in the different small capitals of 
 the innumerable Italian principalities which existed 
 at that time, and perfecting himself in the art of 
 singing as best as he could. On his return to Venice 
 he was lucky enough to obtain an engagement in 
 the chorus at the Fenice Opera-house. His tenor 
 voice was too good to remain long unnoticed, so he was 
 allowed to try minor roles, and, acquitting himself of 
 them to the general satisfaction, he grew in public 
 favour, and was eventually allowed to sing the second 
 tenor part in great operas. Higher than that lie never 
 rose in his profession.
 
 62 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 Giacomo Zanelli was an ardent patriot, and when 
 the revolution of 184s ]>roke out he immediately took 
 uj) arms against the Austrian yoke, and during the 
 long siege of his native city he held a conspicuous 
 lK)sition, and was personally commended by Garibaldi 
 for his coolness and bravery in danger. The crash 
 came, and the city had to surrender ; then Giacomo 
 fled, taking \\ntli him his young son Pietro, for the 
 privations endured during the siege had killed his 
 wife. In a fisherman's boat he crossed the lagoons, 
 and landing at an uninhabited s])ot on the coast, 
 walked from thence with his l)oy across Venetia, hiding 
 with the help of the peasants, travelling at night and 
 undergoing many and great hardshijts. By good 
 fortune he was able to elude the Austrian soldiers 
 who were on the look-out for fugitives, and, crossing 
 the Swiss frontier near the Lake of Garda, he fell 
 down on his knees and thanked God for His mercy tliat 
 he had been spared from ending his days in the ])ris(»n 
 fortress of Spielberg. He was now absolutely destitute, 
 and had not a compatriot of his taken i)ity on him and 
 j)resented him with a guitar he would have been in a 
 bad way. By means of this instrument he succeeded 
 in earning a livelihood by accomj^auying himself on it as 
 he sang in the streets or in hotels, and he not un- 
 frequently wning a gold coin from some Englishman 
 for the sjnrited way in which he sang Garibaldi's liymn. 
 Thus he worked his way through Switzerland and 
 Germany, and eventually settled in Berlin, wliich was 
 then little more than a j)rovincial town ; here his 
 com]>atriots helped him to eke out a precarious exist- 
 ence by j)rocuringhim pu]>ils to wlioni he gave musical
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 63 
 
 lessons. The old mau lived long euong-h to hear of 
 the liberation of Venetia and of the victory of Prussia 
 over Austria. On that day he rose from his bed, to 
 which he had been kept for several days by sickness, 
 and, having dressed himself in his best as if for a feast- 
 day, he took his son's arm and, so supported, went to 
 his favourite beer garden. Having called for a glass 
 of that liquor, he solemnly drank a toast to the now 
 nearly united kingdom of Italy and perdition to the 
 house of Austria, which had caused his country so 
 much Avoe. Having discharged what he considered to 
 be his duty he returned home, and, laying himself again 
 to bed, died in a few days, at peace with all men. 
 
 Pietro Zanelli's musical education had been carefully 
 attended to by his father, and at an early age he had 
 obtained an engagement as a violinist in the orchestra 
 of the opera-house. He was a good-natured, good- 
 humoured, careless creature, reckless with his money 
 when he had any, and with a considerable talent for 
 music and for arranging pot-pourris which had gained 
 a considerable popularity in the more insignificant 
 theatres of Berlin. A few years before his father's 
 death he fell in love with a German lady, the daughter 
 of a tradesman in a smaJU way, and married her. It 
 cannot be said that it was a well-assorted match. 
 She was good-looking enough in a certain way, but 
 decid(>dly coarse and vulgar. It is difficult to explain 
 such unions ; perhaps the young Italian, full of 
 nerves and of an excitable temperament, felt attracted 
 towards the stolid qualities of his wife, who, witli her 
 fleshiness and florid complexion, rather resembled the 
 type of beauty which Rubens so loved to paint. In
 
 64 OLGA ZANKI.LI. 
 
 tempcraiiu'iit she was cold and nnsymjiatbctic, caring 
 little for hor husband's artistic aspirations, and looking 
 upon his music merely as the means of gaining an 
 income ; nor did he get any peace so long as he had 
 an hour in the day unoccupied in giving a lesson. But, 
 with her many faults, she was a good housekeej)er : 
 looking well after the sen-ants ; working herself like 
 a slave ; making money go as far as j)ossil)le ; and 
 priding herself that on their small income she managed 
 to give her husband every reasonable comfort ; for she 
 belonged to that large class of persons who place the 
 satisfjiction of the material wants above those of the 
 spiritual aspirations. Many a time did the poor man 
 escape from the oppressiveness of his home to find 
 relief in spending a day by liimself in the forests of 
 ])ine and fir which surround Berlin. 
 
 C)ne cliild was born of the marriage, and she was 
 christened Olga. Pietro would have liked to have 
 given her an Italian name to remind her of her 
 fatherland, which she would probably never see, but 
 his stern wife informed him that a respected aunt had 
 expressed a desire to be the godmother, and that to 
 refuse would not be proper ; so there was nothing left 
 for him to do but to acquiesce, but he soon changed 
 the named of Olga, which he disliked, into Lolo, and 
 as Lolo Zanelli the girl was ever afterwards known. 
 Lolo grew up a remarkably intelligent cliild, and 
 became the idol of her father ; she was little more 
 than five years' old when Pietro Zanelli had the good 
 fortune to be a])]»()inted conductor of the orchestra at 
 the Victoria Theatre. He acquired thereby a certain 
 position in the social world in wliicli he moved, wliich
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 65 
 
 pleased liis wife immensely, and it also gave him a 
 secure though small income. Every night he would 
 trudge on foot to this distant theatre, and it was a 
 great source of joy to him, whenever he could wring 
 from his wife the permission, to bring Lolo along with 
 liim. Carrpng the child in his arms most of the way, 
 he would, on these occasions, extend his walk, passing 
 down the Unter den Linden to point out to her the 
 palaces of the Emperor and of the princes, and to see 
 her delight at the numerous and varied uniforms of the 
 officers and soldiers they met. Chattering all the way 
 to the child in Italian, he would reach the theatre in 
 better humour than he generally did, and Lolo would 
 immediately be given a seat in the orchestra, for she 
 was a great favourite among the musicians, and was 
 never known to groAv troublesome or to create a dis- 
 turbance. During the entr'actes she would be allowed 
 to explore for herself the mysteries of the big drum, 
 and even to finger the strings of the violins. So Lolo 
 grew up to be a perfect little Bohemian, caring not a 
 jot for household duties, but loving to be with her 
 father, and to sit by his side, and to learn those Italian 
 songs which he was so fond of singing to her. On 
 Sundays and holidays in summer, when the weather 
 was fine and there was enough cash to be found, the 
 Zanelli family would take third-class tickets, and go 
 by train to one of the innumerable beer gardens in the 
 vicinity of Berlin. Then Pietro would leave his wife 
 seated at a table to enjoy herself sipping weak coffee 
 and gossiping to her neighbours, while she occupied 
 herself knitting or mending the household linen, and, 
 taking Lolo along with him to romp and play in the 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 (')(') OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 forest, he would ivtire far from the sound of clinking? 
 beer-glasses and the monotonous roll of the bowls in 
 the skittle alley. 
 
 The ballet-master of the Victoria Theatre had taken 
 a fancy to Lolo, and offered to give her lessons of 
 dancing free of charge. Pietro acce])ted the offer with 
 pleasure, for the child seemed deliglited at the idea 
 to learn how to dance ; but lie took care not to tell 
 his wife about it, for she would certainly have been 
 opposed to the i)lan. Lolo was thus initiated at an 
 early age into the intricacies of ballet dancing and of 
 pirouetting on the tips of her toes. When she was 
 little more than fourteen years of age the director of 
 the theatre offered to let her dance a pas-seitlm a new 
 extravaganza he was bringing out. The day Pietro 
 announced this news to his wife there was a scene 
 in the Zanelli household. She stubbornly refused to 
 allow her daughter to appear on the stage, and it 
 required all the coaxing of Lolo and all the persuasive 
 arts of Pietro, who pointed out that he would be every 
 night at the theatre to watch over the child, and that 
 the director had even offered to pay two pounds a week 
 for her services, and j)romised even more if she proved 
 a success, before a reluctant consent was wrung out of 
 the afflicted mother. 
 
 Never had Lolo been so hai)i)y or so excited as 
 during the few weeks which intervened before her 
 a])])earance on the stage of the Victoria Theatre, when 
 every day for several hours she had to be drilled into 
 the work whieh was exi)ected of lier. The eventful day 
 came at last, and Lolo went down to the theatre with 
 a beatiii'T heart. Her fatlicr had attired himself for
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 67 
 
 a 
 
 large and immaculate white tie, but uotliing would 
 induce his wife to accompany him, for she declined 
 to witness what she considered the degradation of her 
 child. With a trembling hand Pietro Zanelli directed 
 the orchestra on that night, and when Lolo aj^peared 
 in her white gauze skirts and her silken tights and 
 satin shoes, it was as much as he could manage to 
 keep his eyes on the music before him and to pay 
 attention to what he was doing. 
 
 Lolo had much in her favour ; she was young and 
 pretty, the public saw at a glance that she was fond 
 of her art, and that night she danced with such grace 
 and skill that she took the house by storm, and the 
 applause being repeated over and over again there 
 was nothing left for Lolo to do but to go a second 
 time through her performance. A lady in a box, 
 feeling sympathy for the young child, threw her a 
 bouquet, not one of those elaborate and costly things 
 which contain diamonds and billet-doux, but a simple 
 one of flowers which the lady had been wearing as an 
 ornament. With a feeling of immense thankfulness 
 to the unknown person ivho had thus noticed her, 
 Lolo picked up the bouquet and retired with a bow. 
 She afterwards dried the flowers and kept them 
 always by her as a talisman. It is not unfrequently 
 the case that a spontaneous act on our part entailing 
 but little cost to ourselves becomes a source of infinite 
 joy unto others. 
 
 The performance over, Pietro Zanelli hurried to his 
 daughter, and shedding many tears of joy kissed her 
 over and over again. Then father and daughter
 
 68 OLftA ZANELLI. 
 
 walked homewards arm in arm, lie j2rivin<j vent to his 
 feelings by gesticulating wildly, so that the people 
 they met in the streets would turn round astonished 
 and look at the enthusiastic Italian with his hlack 
 flowing locks. It was a warm summer's night in June, 
 and when they reached the bridge over the Spree, on 
 which the equestrian statue of the Great Elector has 
 l)een erected, they sat down at its base to rest awhile. 
 
 " One makes a drbut but once in one's life," said 
 Pietro Zanelli ; " it should always be remembered as 
 a solemn moment, and be graven on the memory for 
 ever. I have got money to-night, Lolo ; come with 
 rae, and we shall celebrate this day worthily." 
 
 So they entered a restaurant wliicli was near, and 
 Pietro ordered a substantial supper with a bottle of 
 champagne decorated round the cork with some 
 glittering gold paper, and seating himself near an 
 open window, from which he overlooked the great 
 place in front of the palace lit up with its innumerable 
 lights, lie began building castles in the air witli reganl 
 to Lolo's future career, telling her how slie would 
 acquire a great reputation and perfonu in all tlie 
 cajntals (»f Euroj)e, be feted by the rich and great, 
 and jxTliaps make enough money to be able to retire 
 like Taglioni to a i)alace in Venice. Happy man that 
 he could not read the stars and know how it was all 
 to end. 
 
 In after years, when Lolo was dining in many a 
 luxuriant restaurant, her thoughts would waniler back 
 with pleasure to the night she snjiped with lier father 
 in the mean hostelry of the Golden Lamb. It was 
 late wlien tliey broke u]), and then ^\^tll<mt speaking
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 69 
 
 much to each other they walked slowly homewards 
 hand in hand, for they were Loth in that happy emo- 
 tional state when it is best to be silent. Lolo retired 
 to bed tired and happy and pleased with the world, and 
 not even the scolding her mother gave her for being 
 out so late could cast a cloud upon the future which 
 seemed to open out to her in such golden colours. 
 
 Johann Lazarus was the brother of Pietro Zanelli's 
 wife. As a boy he had been sent to the " Gymnasium," 
 where lie distinguished himself more by his application 
 to his books than by his real cleverness. From school 
 he proceeded to the University, and after j)assiug the 
 required time there and taking his degree, he was 
 ordained in the Lutheran Church. He then married an 
 insignificant wife, and became the father of a consider- 
 able family, over whom he tyrannized, as was only 
 right and i)roper in a person who united in himself 
 the double authority of a father and a pastor in the 
 Christian Church. Physically Johann Lazarus was not 
 remarkable, for he was thin, and weakly in health ; 
 he had become prematurely bald, and he was so short- 
 sighted that he was never seen without his spectacles. 
 Intellectually he was a narrow-minded pedant, with an 
 immense opinion of himself. It is true, however, that 
 he had acquired a certain rej^utation for learning, for 
 he was no doubt proficient in Hebrew, and had written 
 a i)amplilet on the derivation of a certain word which 
 had given rise to a controversy, and created quite a 
 commotion in the little world of the professors. In 
 politics lie was an ultra-Cousei-vative ; in his opinion 
 the world was divided by Divine law into two halves ; 
 the guiding portion, which consisted of tlie nobility and
 
 70 OLOA ZANEFJ.I. 
 
 the priesthood, and the working'- j>ortioii, whiih coni- 
 ])risi'd all those whose duty it was to toil and to spin to 
 satisfy the wants of humanity. Any one who did not 
 fit into one of these two categories he looked upon as 
 a monstrosity, a pariah, and an accursed thing, who 
 ought to be suppressed l)y every Christian government. 
 Nothing could exceed his cringing servility to the 
 great, or the overbearing nisolence of his manner to 
 tradesmen aud servants, and other such low persons. 
 As he was strictly Orthodox in his views, and never lost 
 an opportunity of expressing his loyalty to the throne, 
 he was ])laced at an early age at the head of one of 
 the cadet schools of the empire, for into his hands it 
 was thought the education of youth could be safely 
 intrusted. He did not belie the expectations which had 
 been formed of him ; he kept the school under strict 
 discipline, aud every Sunday he would mount into the 
 imlpit and deliver himself of a sermon in which he held 
 up the military i)rofession to his young auditory as the 
 one most approaching to the Christian ideal, and he 
 inculcated on them the duty of obedience and loyalty 
 to the reigning house ; nor did he ever make allusion 
 to his Majesty the Emperor save in terms which have 
 been usually applied only to the Deity. So he had not 
 long to wait before his wishes were fulfilled, and he 
 was brought into actual contact with royalty by being 
 appointed a court chajjlain. A few years later he 
 ingratiated himself still more into the good graces of 
 the court by accepting the difiicult task of delivering the 
 funeral oration on a i)riuce, whose life it was i)ublicly 
 known had been far from rejiutable. He accpiitted 
 himself of this dutv witli «rreat insrenuitv, for he boldlv
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 71 
 
 held 111) the life of the deceased prince as an example 
 of what the Christian life should he. Such devoted 
 loyalty to the throne could not he passed over unrecog- 
 nised, so Johann Lazarus received a few days later a 
 letter from the minister of public worship, informing 
 him that it had pleased his Majesty, in consideration 
 of his great learning, piety, and Christian charity, to 
 confer upon him the decoration of the Red Eagle of the 
 fourth class. 
 
 The marriage of his sister to Pietro Zanelli was a 
 sore point with Johann Lazarus. He occasionally con- 
 descended to see his sister, but nothing would induce 
 him to recognise his brother-in-law, whom he looked 
 upon as an alien, a Bohemian, the son of a consj^irator, 
 and a member of a heretical faith; for though Pietro 
 was far from being a bigot, and was certainly not very 
 attentive to the services of his Church, yet he was born 
 and bred a Roman Catholic, and he had no intention of 
 changing his religion to jjlease a pedantic theologian 
 with whom he happened to be connected by marriage 
 The two ftimilies, therefore, did not see much of each 
 other. Johann Lazarus had many children, but it is 
 only necessary to speak /-of one of them, whose name 
 was Heinrich. He was born a few years before his 
 cousin Olga Zanelli. He differed very much from his 
 brothers, who were strong, burly fellows, and rather 
 resembled his father in being physically weak ; but 
 in tastes he differed entirely from him, for though 
 Heinrich was destined for the Church he hated the 
 prospect of such a profession cordially ; at school he 
 was always getting into trouble, and the parental wrath 
 had continually to manifest itself in the shape of a
 
 72 (»LGA ZANELLI. 
 
 good liidin*;. It was not unnatural, therefore, that 
 Heinrieli liated his home and tlie jtckkI conversation 
 that was habitual there, and his l)lood would l)oil when 
 he had to listen in silence to the loyal effusions of his 
 father ; he became at heart a re])ublican and a discon- 
 tented spirit, and many a time he would mn over to 
 the Zanelli household, where he was ever welcome, and 
 where he breathed a freer air, and was at liberty to 
 vent his feelings against things in general. 
 
 For two years Lolo danced on and off on the stage 
 of the Victoria Theatre ; but one ^\^nter's night her 
 father, trudging home on foot through the snow and 
 against a biting east wind, caught a chill winch deve- 
 loped into a fever, and he died. It was a terrible blow 
 to her, for from her earliest youtii she had ])een his 
 constant companion. The household had now to be 
 broken up, as there was not enough money left to keejt 
 it together. Lolo was removed from the stage and 
 apprenticed to a milliner, and her mother went to live 
 with her brother Johann Lazarus. There every day 
 she felt she was becoming more and more of a burden 
 to the already numerous family, and she had to listen 
 daily to the reproaches of her brother that she had 
 been foolish enough to throw away her life on a 
 Bohemian, and had brought all this suffering on 
 herself in consequence. However, she did not suffer 
 long, for a year later she followed lier husband to the 
 grave, and was released from the pain and humiliation 
 of feeling that she ate her daily bread only on suffer- 
 ance. Lolo was little more than seventeen years old 
 when she was left to fight her way through the world 
 alone.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IT was yet early in the moruiug when Count Klin- 
 kenstein tumbled into the rooms of Baron Zerbino 
 and found him still in bed, and exjiressed surprise 
 thereat. 
 
 " Do you expect me to be up at this early hour to 
 receive you ? " grumbled the Baron from under the 
 bedclothes. " You seem to forget that I have been 
 travelling all yesterday, and that our sui)per was not 
 over till very late." 
 
 *' I have been drilling my men for the last hour," 
 answered the Count. " Give me some breakfast, 
 Zerbino, for I feel very hungry." 
 
 " You may tell my man to bring you whatever you 
 like," replied the Baron ; " but please leave me in 
 peace." 
 
 " I have no intention whatever of doing so, my dear 
 fellow," replied the Count, laughing. " I want you to 
 dress at once and to come with me, I am going to 
 pay Olga Zanelli a visit, and I feel too shy to go alone." 
 
 "Confound your Olga Zanelli I" roared the Baron, 
 turning his face to the wall ; " have you not yet for- 
 gotten her ? " 
 
 " By no means, I can never forget her ; now be a 
 good fellow, Zerbino, and get up quickly ; " and the 
 Count then began slowly to pull off the bedclothes. 
 
 " I suppose it is useless trying to sleej) as long as
 
 <4 Ol-GA ZANKLLI. 
 
 you are here," said the Baron, sitting up in bed. 
 " What on earth is the sense of wanting to go and 
 see your new acquaintance at this hour of the morn- 
 ing ? You will find all the shops still closed." 
 
 " Never mind about that," replied the Count ; " we 
 can wait outside till tliey are o})en." 
 
 " It seems to me a sufficiently ridiculous idea our 
 going into a milliner's shop at all," said the Baron. 
 
 " That is the very reason I want you to come Anth 
 me, Zerbinu, for it will halve the ridicule attaching to 
 each of us, and make it therefore easier to Ijear." 
 
 " Very well then," exclaimed the Baron, jumi)ing 
 out of bed and pushing his friend into the ailjoining 
 room ; " let me at least dress in peace." Then he 
 slammed his bedroom door and shouted to his servant 
 to come and help him, and began his toilet. 
 
 Baron Zerl)ino's sitting-room was ornamented with 
 a profusion of i)hotographs of jjretty women and 
 actresses, and the jwrtraits of such as according to his 
 voluntary confession he had been more intimately 
 connected with, were honoured with plush frames or 
 were discreetly hidden behind silken curtains. The 
 Baron jiosed as a great lady-killer, and it had become 
 a habit with him to make love with all the ardour of 
 a {Southerner to every pretty girl or young married 
 woman he came across. It was fortunate, however, 
 for him that the ladies did not take him seriously, or 
 he would not have remained long what he was, a hai)i)y 
 bachelor. His real successes with women, so his 
 fri('nd> would say, were rather of the kind which can 
 be acquired by the means which threw the lovely 
 Danae into the arms of Jove. It is a curious fact to
 
 OLGA ZAKELLI. 75- 
 
 note that the good-uatnred little Baron always tried 
 to make people believe that he was a cynic and a 
 disbeliever in the virtue of women, and in order to 
 keep up his character he was often led to act in a way 
 which brought him into a ridiculous position, as on 
 one occasion when he sent two pretty actresses of the 
 same company invitations to sujjper couched in the 
 same terms expressive of eternal devotion to them,, 
 forgetting that they would probably show each other 
 their letters. That night the Baron had to eat his 
 carefully prepared supper by himself and to submit to 
 the chaff and sarcasm of his acquaintances. 
 
 While Count Kliukenstein was having breakfast he 
 took down from the shelf one of Baron Zerbino's 
 numerous books upon duelling, and became so absorbed 
 in the subject that he had no idea that an hour had 
 slipped by when the Baron came out of his bedroom 
 dressed with his usual exaggerated smartness. 
 
 " Are you ready to start ? " asked the Count, getting 
 up and jiuttiug on the white cap of the Gardes du 
 Corps. 
 
 " Do not be in such a dreadful hurrj^," growled the 
 Baron, seating himself at the table and pouring out 
 a cup of tea ; " you have been troublesome enough 
 this morning, for goodness' sake keep quiet now ; gO' 
 on reading, and let me have my breakfast in peace."' 
 Then he took an English newsj^aper and buried him- 
 self behind it. There followed a temporary silence, 
 which was, however, not of long duration, for a 
 knocking was soon heard at the door, and presently 
 the servant entered the room bearing an enormous- 
 bouquet of evidently fresh-cut flowers.
 
 70 ol(;a zanelli. 
 
 " What is tlie mcuuiug of this ? " exclaimed the 
 Baron with astonishment, as he peered over his uews- 
 imper. 
 
 " You need not be alarmed," replied the Count ; 
 **■ it is a little present for Olga Zanelli ; I ordered it 
 this morning when on my way to drill my men. It is 
 quite freshly made. Does it not look nice ? Do you 
 think she will like it ? " 
 
 " How should I know what her tastes are. I have 
 no doubt, Klinkeustein, she is foolish enough to be 
 pleased ^ith such a present, for from my exj)erience 
 of the sex I should say they are always pleased when 
 a man presents them with anything, however idiotic 
 it may be, and for idiotcy your gift sur})asses anything 
 I have ever known. What should a milliner's assist- 
 ant do 'svith a huge bouquet ? Does your over-heated 
 imagination take her to be a duchess ? " 
 
 " Duchess or no duchess, she is a delightfully pretty 
 creature, and worthy of every token of respect," replied 
 Count Klinkeustein, feeling rather annoyed at his 
 friend's comments. 
 
 " Do you expect me to walk down the street carry- 
 ing this token of your respect, regard, or afifectiou?'' 
 inquired the Baron, taking uj) the huge bouquet 
 and examining it with an amused look. " All hot- 
 house flowers, too ! What a waste of money ! I 
 a,m sure she would have preferred an embroidered 
 petticoat or a })air of silk stockings to such a useless 
 thing." 
 
 " Whoever gave a res])ectable girl underclothing as 
 a present ? " 
 
 " 1 have known it done not unfrequently," rej>lie<l
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. / / 
 
 the Baron, laughing, " and with the very best results ; 
 nor have I ever heard of a case in which such presents 
 have been returned. Do you not know that there 
 are plenty of countesses in Berlin who, having more 
 rank than money, get their dressmakers' bills paid by 
 their admirers ? If the countesses do it, why should 
 a milliner's assistant be more squeamish ? You know 
 my opinion with regard to the majority of the fair 
 sex ; I have told it you a hundred times. In this 
 world everything can be bought, and the only point 
 about which there can be any difference of opinion is 
 with regard to the price. Of course by the fair sex 
 I do not mean the large number of hard-working 
 women who are of interest only to their husbands, 
 but the fair and frivolous butterflies who make the 
 world tolerable by their beauty, and who, being butter- 
 flies, are naturally meant to be caught. Take my 
 advice, my dear Klinkenstein, if you are bent upon 
 winning a lady's afi'ections, you will find it an easier 
 and a quicker course to make a judicious use of your 
 wealth than to waste time delivering yourself with 
 great difficulty of poetical effusions, or to send vans full 
 of flowers to the object of your adoration. Thank 
 God, that for one femme exaltee one meets with in 
 this world there are at least twenty wlio are pretty 
 and i^ractical ! " 
 
 " You are absolutely devoid of poetry," replied 
 Count Klinkenstein, in very bad humour ; " you never 
 take anything seriously, and you judge everything 
 from a crass point of view." 
 
 " Devoid of poetry ! " exclaimed the Baron, sending 
 his voice up into a high note ; "I see further than
 
 78 OLGA ZAXELLI. 
 
 yon do, that is all. There is infinitely more poetry 
 in a silk stocking, than in all this tomfoolery of big 
 l)on(|nets. My dear fellow, I have known silk stockings 
 with more brilliant colours and with a sweeter scent 
 than all your cut flowers which fa<le at once and lose 
 their smell." 
 
 " When you have (juite done giving me proofs of 
 your sense of poetry you ^^nll perhaps accompany 
 me to the person who is poetry itself," said Count 
 Klinkenstein, taking uj) his big bouquet and ])re- 
 pariug to leave the room. 
 
 " Now do not be foolish, Klinkenstein ; do you 
 wish to have all the street boys running after yon ? 
 Let my servant go ahead and carry that ridiculous 
 thing to your Friiulein Olga Zanelli ; we shall mean- 
 while take a stroll and give her time to digest the 
 meaning of such an original and stupendous present 
 from a nameless admirer." 
 
 With some reluctance Count Klinkenstein con- 
 sented, and the Baron's servant was put in charge 
 of the big bouquet and sent about his errand, while 
 the two friends took a stroll down the only walk in 
 Berlin, the Unterden Linden. At every shoji window 
 the Baron, who was a regular Jldneur^ would stop 
 and admire the contents, which he must have known 
 by heart for they were so rarely changed ; with ill- 
 disguisi'd ill-humour Count Klinkenstein would turn 
 back to drag liis friend away from his contemjtlations, 
 and make him arrive quicker at their goal. 
 
 The milliner's shop tliey were in quest of was in 
 the Leipzigerstrasse. As they a]>proached it the 
 Count's heart beat so high that for several minutes
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. i\) 
 
 he was in too nervous a state to go in, and lie 
 remained contemplating the bonnets from ontside. 
 
 " Can yon see, Zerbino, whether she is inside ? " 
 inquired Conut Klinkensteiu, after a long pause. 
 
 The little Baron was standing on the doorsteps of 
 the shop, whistling a tune, and making his cane 
 whirl round at an alarming rate while occupying 
 himself with staring at every pretty woman who 
 passed by. " How the deuce should I be able to see 
 through ground-glass ! " he muttered, in reply. " In 
 my life I never knew any one so ridiculously shy of 
 a girl as you are. If you wish to talk to her and 
 to tell her the immensity of your devotion to her, 
 by all means let us go in and get it over ; there 
 is no use standing outside looking at the bonnets." 
 Having said this he pushed open the door, and the 
 sharp ring of a bell which it occasioned sent a thrill 
 through the Count, who was now forced to follow 
 his friend into the shop. Olga Zanelli was not there, 
 but an elderly lady rose and asked them what they 
 wanted. 
 
 " Show me some bonnets," said the Baron, un- 
 abashed, and taking a seat. 
 
 " Gentlemen, what style do you like ? " incpiired 
 the shop-woman. 
 
 " Any style you like," answered Count Klinkenstein, 
 stamping with his feet, and making as much noise 
 as he could with his sword, for he felt very irritated 
 at not finding Olga Zanelli in the shop. 
 
 " Oh ! any style I like," said the elderly dame, 
 looking at her customers for a time through her 
 spectacles. " I presume, however, that you want the
 
 80 oLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 bonnet f<»r a youns: i)erson ? " slie added, lajnng a 
 particular stress on tlie word young. 
 
 " Yon are quite right," replied the Baron, sliarply. 
 " We do not usually Iniy bonnets for our grand- 
 mothers." 
 
 The elderly shoi)-woiuan said no more, but pro- 
 ceeded to open her cupboards, and to expose upon 
 the counter a series of bonnets and hats in the newest 
 fashions. 
 
 " They are pretty enough," said the Baron, examin- 
 ing them critically. " But I cannot judge of their 
 effect by merely seeing them stretched on their 
 wooden frames. Have you got no young person on 
 whom we might try them ? " 
 
 " Olga I " shouted the shop- woman, " come and try 
 some bonnets." 
 
 At the sound of that name Count Klinkenstein 
 started up from his reverie, and he could not restrain 
 a deep blush on seeing Olga Zanelli walk in from 
 an adjoining room. 
 
 " How do yon do ? " she said, in that soft sweet 
 voice of hers, as soon as she recognised her two 
 travelling companions of the previous day. " I have 
 just received a splendid bouquet," she whispered to 
 the Count, as she passed him. " I suppose it comes 
 from you, as I know of no one else who would have 
 sent me one. I thank you very much for it," she 
 added, after a moment's pause, during which her 
 thoughts wandered back to the day of lier dchut on 
 the stage when an unknown lady had thrown her a 
 handful of flowers. 
 
 The sinceritv of her tone when she thanked him
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 81 
 
 gave Count Klinkenstein a start, and all the ridicule 
 which his friend had heai)ed upon his flowers was 
 forgotten in the pleasure which her appreciation of 
 them caused him. 
 
 " Which of these bonnets shall the young person 
 try ? " inquired the old lady, eyeing her treasures 
 with evident pride. 
 
 " Try them all on one after the other/' replied 
 the Baron. " That will give us more time to con- 
 template the beauty of nature and of art." 
 
 So Olga Zanelli was made to put on several hats 
 and bonnets in succession, in every one of which 
 she seemed charming. Count Klinkenstein was too 
 agitated to say much, but he kept his eyes continually 
 fixed upon the girl, who was well worth admiring 
 vnth her splendid figure and strange fascinating face, 
 with its dark, pathetic eyes. After much delay a 
 bonnet was eventually selected and paid for, and 
 instructions were given that it should be sent home. 
 That same afternoon Count Klinkenstein sent it back 
 addressed to Olga Zanelli, together with a letter 
 delicately worded, in which he expressed a hope that 
 she would accept it ; and as she had told him that 
 she was fond of going to the play, he begged at 
 the same time to inclose several theatre tickets for 
 her use. 
 
 Count Klinkenstein did not like to show himself 
 in a theatre with Olga Zanelli, so on days when 
 he sent her tickets he would never fail to be at the 
 door of the house when the performance was over 
 in order to escort her home. She always declined 
 to have supper with him, and the Count never pressed 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 OLGA ZANKLLT. 
 
 her very much, for he was afmid of hurting her 
 feelings, and, moreover, he felt a certain strange 
 shyness and reserve in her presence which was not 
 nsnal to him with other girls. There was no doubt 
 that she felt attracted towards him, as was only 
 natural, for he was young, rich, and handsome, and 
 the bearer of a proud uniform ; nor had any man so 
 far shown such devotion to her, or been so delicate 
 in his attentions. Their feelings now might be com- 
 pared to the water of two streams, each flowing in 
 its own bed, silently and limi)idly along towards 
 each other, and meeting eventually to form a river 
 whose waters are destined to be cast into the stonn 
 of the ocean.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 83 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 IT was late at night, and the rain was coming 
 down steadily. That long street, the Friedrich- 
 strasse, seemed deserted ; only a few miserable 
 women still occupied the pavement, walking fast 
 np and down to keep themselves warm, and still 
 clinging to the hope that some passer-by might 
 take pity npon them, and not let them go supperless 
 to bed. Here and there beneath the shadow of a 
 door-post might be seen a crouching figure ; and 
 whenever a belated individual hurried past it would 
 come forward and offer a flower in tones so pathetic 
 and genuine that whoever heard them would shiver 
 at the thought that such starv^ation and abject misery 
 could exist in the great city. Importunity there was 
 none, for not far off, in the glimmer from a gas 
 lantern, shone the military helmet of the policeman, 
 and beggary is forbidden, and revolting poverty is 
 carefully driven beneath the surface, as is only proper 
 in a city which is the capital of a great empire. A 
 few vendors of fruit still called out their wares, and 
 here and there might be seen the barrow of a seller 
 of hot coffee, lighted by a solitary candle, the flame 
 of which flittered to and fro in the wind, and was 
 occasionally extinguished by the drizzling rain. 
 Some wretched creatures stood around, haggling
 
 84 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 with the owner for a hot drink at a lower price 
 than lie felt inclined to take. Wrapped in his thick 
 cloak, and indifferent to the weather, the night watch- 
 man would i)ass, clinking his keys and making his 
 hoots creak, and wlien he reached the corner of a 
 street he would stoj) a moment to gossip with his 
 colleague the policeman. 
 
 Two seedily dressed individuals, wrapped in cloaks 
 whicli were niucli the worse for wear, came down the 
 street together. 
 
 " It is a wretched night," remarked one of them, 
 " and it is a long way to our usual beer-house." 
 
 " I have enough money to pay for a few mugsfnl 
 of beer ; it seems to me best that we should go in 
 here," replied the other, halting at the door of a caf6 
 illuminated l)y the electric light, as could be seen by 
 the brilliant rays which shot through the chinks in 
 the shutters. 
 
 " By all means," answered the first speaker ; " but 
 you know the state of my purse : I am stranded for 
 the moment." 
 
 a j^cver mind," rejilied the other, " I have enough 
 for two." 
 
 The jiorter, who was standing at tlie door, and wlio 
 liad been watching tliem, pushed back tlic heavy 
 curtain and let them in. They found themselves in a 
 large room brilliantly liglited and crowded "SNith men 
 and women sitting round little tables. The atmo- 
 sphere was so tliick witli smoke that it was difficult 
 to distinguisli peoi)le at the furtlier end of tlie room ; 
 a sickly smell of stale tobacco and beer pervaded the 
 place. There was much noise and talking going on,
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 85 
 
 and now and again one could hear the loud vulgar 
 shouts of some i)ainted female. The two individuals 
 who had just come in threaded their way between the 
 numerous small tables and sat down in a corner at 
 the furthest end of the room, where they were less 
 surrounded by other jjeople. A waiter at once brought 
 them two frothy mugs of beer. 
 
 " So things are going badly with you," said Heinrich 
 Schultze,,one of the individuals who had just sat down. 
 He was a thick brawny man of large size, with a Ioav 
 forehead and a disagreeable expression. 
 
 " Very badly indeed," rej^lied his comrade, whose 
 name was Gaspar Metzler. He was a small man witli 
 an intelligent face, and from his appearance one would 
 have said that he had gypsy blood in his veins. 
 " Things are going very badly indeed with me," he 
 continued, taking a long ftull at his beer ; " I have just 
 been let out of prison, and of course no one will have 
 me as his servant. If I try to do anything I am 
 worried by the police ; I may not move fi-om one place 
 to another mthout reporting myself and going through 
 a mass of formalities ; every police agent thinks he 
 has a right to bully and to cross-question me ; I believe 
 that if I were to sit down on a bench in a public 
 square some one would come up and ask me what I 
 was about. "We have agitators enough who go 
 spouting about the country in favour of free trade ; 
 I say, let us have free trade in our movements first. 
 And, after all, what is it that I have done ? Faith- 
 fully served a wealthy Jew banker for the space of 
 three years. I was badly jjaid, for my master was 
 mean, and, like Dives, almost grudged me the crumbs
 
 86 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 which fell from his table. As my imagination is not 
 sufficiently brilliant to make me believe that under 
 the circumstances I was living in heaven, I took to 
 drinking the banker's brandy. You should have seen 
 his anger when he caught me one day purloining the 
 stuff ; he was unable to sj)eak for several minutes, and 
 he grew so red in the face that I thought for a moment 
 that he would have a fit. It was a certain satisfaction, 
 however, to be told that my taste was correct and that 
 the liquor was good. As my master was a friend of 
 the prefect of police, I was clai)ped into prison, and 
 remained there for six weeks. Is it reasonable to ruin 
 a man's life who has served you faithfully, merely 
 because he has emi)tied a bottle of brandy ? Good 
 Heavens I for a bottle of brandy, which you can buy for 
 a trifle in any shop in Berlin I If this is the sort of 
 justice which we may expect, then I say let us eman- 
 cipate ourselves and make war upon society, for it \vill 
 be more profitable and more amusing than to remain 
 silently at the bottom of the social scale \vith a weight 
 of police regulations above us to crush us down." He 
 emptied his mug, and, shipping it down on the table, 
 said to his comrade, '' Let me have another ; I feel 
 very dry from talking so much." 
 
 " More beer, waiter I " shouted Heinrich Schultze, in 
 stentorian tones. " I am flush of money to-day, so let 
 us drink freely." 
 
 " Does the Colonel, your master, pay you well ? " 
 inquired Gasjjar Metzler. 
 
 " Pay me well ! " shouted Heinrich Schultze. 
 " What should he pay me witli, I should like to know ? 
 He has no monev, and is overburdi'ued with debts."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 8/ 
 
 " Then liow is it that yon remain with him ? " 
 inqnired the other. " I snppose he has not yet 
 exhausted his powers of borrowing ? The colonel of 
 a Guard regiment cannot live on nothing, and your 
 master, I see, keeps a carriage, and his wife is always 
 smartly dressed." 
 
 " You know nothing," replied Heinrich Schultze, 
 ■sv-ith a sneer ; " you have lived in dirty financial circles 
 with Jews and bankers : you do not know how things 
 are done in aristocratic society where money is scarce. 
 The Colonel borrows for his most necessary wants, 
 pledging his word of honour that the money will 
 be repaid. The money-lenders know that rather than 
 see a relative ignominiously turned out of the army, 
 the family will some day settle the account, or that 
 if it comes to the worst that the Emperor will pro- 
 bably intervene to save a scandal from attaching to 
 an officer of high rank. I receive no wages, but make 
 it worth my while remaining with the Colonel, because 
 I take tips from every officer in the regiment whose 
 duty it is to pay court to the Colonel and the Countess 
 his wife. As for the Countess, she has her lovers, I 
 should think, rather of her influence than her charms, 
 for she is passed forty, and she has led a gay life ; it 
 is their money which pays for the carriage and for many 
 other things besides." 
 
 " Why does not the Colonel divorce his wife and go 
 in for an American heiress ? " asked Gaspar Metzler. 
 
 " Because he is a wine man and wants promotion, and 
 he knows that a scandal would ruin him ; moreover, 
 I do not see what he would gain by announcing that 
 in public which every one already knows in private."
 
 »» OLGA ZANKI.I.I. 
 
 At tliis moment an altercation arose in the room. 
 A woman wlio liad jnst entered found lier paramour 
 sitting at a table witli a female whom he was treating 
 to sausages and beer ; she went up to them, and, after 
 the exchange of much bad language, broke a mug full 
 of beer on the head of her faithless lover. A scuffle 
 ensued, but it was not of long duration, for the waiters 
 of the establishment, accustomed to such scenes, im- 
 mediately assembled and ejected the i)arty. Already at 
 the door stood the faitliful protector of decent citizens, 
 note-book in hand, to be able to rej)ort to his sui)eriors 
 on the morrow the details of this interesting ej)isode. 
 
 " It is a wretched life we are leading," remarked 
 Gaspar Metzler, after a pause ; " there is uo opening 
 for us in this country ; are you not tired of being 
 another man's slave ? " 
 
 " I should just think I was," answered Heinrich 
 Schultze, with his deep voice, and bringing down his 
 massive fist upon the table which made the beer mugs 
 rattle in their saucers. '' We are not servants, we are 
 really slaves. My master pays me no wages, and yet 
 I cannot leave his service. Men in his ])osition have 
 .such influence with the police authorities that they 
 would make my life a burden to me if I left my 
 present situation and tried to find another." 
 
 "Why does the Colonel wish to retain you ?" asked 
 Gaspar Metzler. 
 
 " He has a very good reason," retorted Schultze, 
 with a hideous smile ; " he does not wish any one else 
 to know what goes on in his own household. Would 
 to God I had never entered any one's service, and 
 that I were still a free man ! "
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 89 
 
 " What induced you tlieu to barter away your free- 
 dom ? " inquired Gaspar Metzler, contemplating the 
 smoke from his clay pipe rising in clouds to the 
 ceiling. 
 
 " I was born in a remote Pommerauian village," 
 replied the other ; " when I had reached the proi)er 
 age, I was marched off by the authorities and made to 
 enter a cuirassier regiment. As if my weight was not 
 sufficient to make a horse sweat under me, they loaded 
 me with a helmet and a breastplate. I served out my 
 time, and when I was discharged I was told to return 
 to my Pommeranian fields. It is easier said than 
 done when you have spent three years in a town, and 
 grown accustomed to frequenting places of amuse- 
 ment, theatres, and beer gardens, and to enjoying the 
 company of housemaids and wenches. After that the 
 duluess of labouring in the fields becomes intolerable ; 
 I could no longer bear the idea of being reduced to 
 following the plough, and obliged as my sole dis- 
 traction to contemplate the tails of two oxen all day 
 long, so I jumped at the offer the Colonel, who had 
 taken a fancy to my size, made me, and I became his 
 servant." 
 
 " My mother was wise," remarked Metzler ; " she 
 stamj)ed just sufficient infirmities upon my body to 
 save me from the necessity of what is called serving 
 one's country. If I had enough money now I would 
 turn my back upon the fatherland and sail away for 
 America." 
 
 " So would I," said Heinrich Schultze ; " 1 was 
 a fool not to have gone when I was young. A cousin 
 of mine emigrated to America to escai)e from the
 
 90 OLfiA ZAXKLLI. 
 
 military service ; but my father would not let me go 
 \vitli him, for he used to tell us that a man must not 
 hhirk tlie service due to his king. My cousin writes 
 that he has his own house, and is doing well as a 
 farmer ; I remained to serve my king, and my reward 
 is that I must be another man's slave to the end of 
 my life. I shall never know what it is to possess 
 a house of my own as my cousin does, and to ])e free 
 to do as I like." Heinricli Scliultze, with his Idju-k- 
 gnard's face, put his elbows on the table and, resting 
 his head on his hands, fell into sentimental medita- 
 tions while watching the frothy foam in the beer mug 
 in front of him. 
 
 " Oh ! it is you, Heiurich Schultze," said a rather 
 smartly dressed individual, giving him a slap on the 
 back ; " you seem lost in reverie." 
 
 " How do you do, Ludwig Kade ? " rei)lied Schultze, 
 looking uj) ; " sit at our table. You know Gas])ar 
 Metzler ? " 
 
 " (Jertainly," answered the new-comer ; " but before 
 I do so I ^ill fetch a friend who has just come in with 
 me. I have not seen you about of late, Gasj)ar." 
 
 " I do not Avonder at it," he answered, with a 
 grumble ; '* I have been his Majesty's guest for the 
 last six weeks." 
 
 Ludwig Kade soon returned with his friend Moses 
 Jacobsohn, and after introducing him to the other two, 
 they all sat down at the same table. 
 
 Ludwig Kadi' was a man of about forty years of 
 age, with an intelligent face, thin, and much furrowed 
 with lines, and he was smart-looking, which was in 
 kee])ing with his character of servant to a wrll-knowu
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 91 
 
 demi-mondaiue of the towu, Moses JacoLsoliD, as his 
 name and appearance plainly showed, was a Jew. 
 His occupation, as stated in the official directory of 
 Berlin, was that of a seller of old clothes, and his shop 
 was under the low arcades near the river in the old 
 part of the town. But Moses Jacobsohn was of too 
 energetic and enterprising a nature to be satisfied with 
 the small returns of his official trade, and it was well 
 known to the police that he had not unfrecpiently acted 
 as a procurer to persons of high rank, as well as been 
 engaged on various occasions in scouring the Eastern 
 Provinces of Prussia and Poland in search of young 
 girls suitable for the harems of the dons of South 
 America. He was a shrewd man was Moses Jacob- 
 sohn, and he had his friends in the police force, and 
 patrons of high rank who certainly did not wish to see 
 him exposed ; moreover, he was extremely discreet, 
 and when he saw a storm brewing he would retire for 
 a time from his dangerous and illicit operations, and 
 would relapse into the innocent vendor of old rags. 
 As he had so far caused no public scandal, the police 
 left him unmolested on the intelligible principle that if 
 you cannot thoroughly cleanse a dirty stream it is on 
 the whole best not to stir up the muddy bottom. 
 
 " You seem to be both very melancholy to-night," 
 said Ludwig Kade, looking at his companions. " I 
 suppose tlie world has been treating you badly of 
 late?" 
 
 " It always does so," answered Schultze ; " I am 
 as dissatisfied as I can well be with everything ; and 
 as for Metzler, lie has no money, and ai)parently no 
 ])rospect of getting any. We were both saying we
 
 92 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 should like to emigrate to America, but our worldly 
 possessions are not sufficient to allow us of doing 
 so." 
 
 " I would willingly follow any one to that Llessed 
 land," said Moses Jacobsohu, in that peculiarly vnilgar 
 dialect spoken in Berlin. " Trade is bad ; old clothes 
 bring in nothing ; and the world seems to be suffering 
 from a spasmodic fit of morality. The police at 
 Hamburg and Bremen prevent the free-born German 
 maiden from leaving these shores in search of other 
 climes because some foolish newspapers have been 
 writing violent articles against what they call the 
 white slave traffic. It is a craze which will pass, and 
 the world will return to its old ways ; but meanwhile 
 my funds are running low, and I see the time coming 
 when I will not be able to i)ay the rent of my shop, 
 and will therefore be reduced to trudge on foot round 
 the country hawking goods to keep body and soul 
 together." 
 
 " I am better off than you are then," said Ludwig 
 Kade, " for tlie creature I serve has so far been able 
 to retain the friendshij) of well-to-do people ; she has 
 had her ui)s and downs, no doubt, and there have been 
 days when there was so little money in the house that 
 I was compelled to think of deserting the sinking 
 shiji, but somehow she has always succeeded in find- 
 ing an admirer in the nick of time, so I have continued 
 jogging on with her for several years." 
 
 " By what name is she known now ? " inc^uired 
 Gaspar Metzler. 
 
 " She calls herself Madame de Civry," replied 
 Ludwig Kade. " She was born on the Polish frontier ;
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 9S 
 
 taken to this one." 
 
 " I suppose a person who can give herself so splendid 
 a name must have aristocratic admirers. Who is with 
 her now ? " 
 
 "The Prefect of Police," replied Kade ; "that 
 bloated, satj-r-like individual is the person on whom 
 she has now to pour her professional love. He wants 
 to get rid of her, but she will not let him go so easily." 
 
 " Does the old ruffian expect to find something- 
 better at his age ? " said Gaspar Metzler, remember- 
 ing his six weeks' imprisonment, and shaking his fist 
 as if he would have liked to have killed the prefect. 
 
 " That is not the reason," answered Kade. " He is 
 sufficiently satisfied with the charms of my mistress; 
 but the newspapers of late have been so blackguarding 
 the old fool for his incompetence that it is said the 
 Government mil get rid of him and give him a small 
 pension. As he does not care to live in comparative 
 poverty I hear he has proposed to the rich widow of 
 a merchant, and in his seventieth year he intends 
 to enter into the bonds of matrimony." 
 
 " Ah," interrupted Metzler, " I suppose that now the 
 world is satisfied that he is incompetent he wishes to 
 raise his character by j^roving that he can at best be a 
 husband." 
 
 " I hardly think my mistress will give much of a 
 certificate," said Ludwig Kade, with a sneer. Then he 
 added, after a pause, " I am getting tired of this life ; 
 there is too much uncertainty about it — too much 
 anxiety about the future. When the money comes in 
 one sjjends it freely, instead of saving it for bad times.
 
 94 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 I liavo seen the wealthy patrons leave the woman too 
 often, and I am tired of heljaug to find others to replace 
 them. I agree with you, Heinricli, the best thing for 
 ns to do is to leave for America." 
 
 " Find the means, and I will follow yon," rejilied the 
 hnge Heinrich Schnltze, leaning forward on the table, 
 and looking the last speaker straight in the face. " You 
 have brains enough, they say, find the means, then ; 
 but I think you will discover that it costs more to get 
 there than it does to drink a few mugsfnl of beer." 
 
 K«ade remained silent for a few moments ; then he 
 said, " Four resolute men like ourselves onglit not to 
 find it so very difficult to raise sufficient funds to take 
 us to America and to start us there under prosperous 
 circumstances. Let us help each other, and we shall 
 manage to do it." 
 
 " Wliy not form a dub?" said Gasi)ar Metzler ; "they 
 say that in union lies strength. Let us bind ourselves 
 by an oath that we will obey a leader, and we are sure 
 to succeed. The world has treated us badly ; let ns 
 therefore look upon her as our prey and treat her as 
 such. If we work together you will soon see that we 
 shall amass enough money to be able to lead an easy 
 life in the free state over the water. Let ns hope 
 that there we shall be delivered from the sight of a 
 ]>oliceman at every street corner, armed with weai)on8 
 of war, as if he was afraid that the innocent citizens 
 for whose protection he was instituted would fall ujKin 
 him and attack him." 
 
 " It is an excellent idea of yours, Gaspar," remarked 
 Kade. " Let us form a club, and begin o])erations at 
 once."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 95 
 
 " Agreed ! " exclaimed Heinricli Scliultze and Moses 
 Jacobsolin at tlie same moment. 
 
 " We shall lav down onr plans carefnllj-," continued 
 Kade, " so that when we make our great coup we may 
 reap a rich harvest, and have enough for us all to retire 
 to America with and to live there in comfort. Let us 
 avoid going in for repeated small operations, for we are 
 then certain to be caught by the police. What we do 
 must be on a large scale. We must startle the j^olice 
 authorities, and paralyse them for a time from sheer 
 astonishment. They understand petty and common- 
 place larcenies, let us therefore leave them alone ; 
 moreover, the penalty for a small offence is not so very 
 much lighter than that for a great one. We ran very 
 little more risk in playing for a big stake than in 
 repeatedly fishing for small gains." 
 
 " That is very wisely spoken," said Metzler ; " but 
 what we want to know now is the form which our 
 operations should take. Has no one amongst us got 
 an original idea ? " 
 
 They all looked at each other in silence, till Moses 
 Jacobsohn remarked, " I have got an idea which is 
 perhaps not very original, but which seems to me 
 practical and easy of execution." 
 
 " What is it ? " they all said, leaning forward over 
 the table to catch his words, for Moses Jacobsohn was 
 speaking very low. 
 
 " There must be plenty of scandals in the uj)per 
 circles," continued the Jew, " which the general public 
 never hear of — fishy money transactions, seductions, 
 infidelities in married life, and many worse things. 
 I would suggest that we should go in search of
 
 00 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 these mysteries, and, when we have discovered them, 
 tlireaten to exi)Ose the persons implicated unless we 
 are i)aid to keej) silence. I do not think that we 
 wonld incur much danger, for persons in high life 
 who liave a black record are generally cowards, and 
 would willingly pay not to be exposed. Our only 
 difficulty will be to make certain that what we 
 tlireaten to expose is tme, and that the i)rice we 
 ask for our silence is not more than the victims can 
 conveniently pay." 
 
 " Brilliant idea," said Ludwig Kade ; " simide, 
 and sure to give good results. Moses Jacobsohn, 
 we elect you president of our club and director of 
 operations." The two others assented with alacrity 
 to this proposal. 
 
 " My good fellows," replied Moses Jacobsohn, '' the 
 person we shall require as our leader is a man of 
 j)osition, who knows society well, and the dark spot in 
 every family." 
 
 "How shall wo find sucli a ])erson?*' in([nired 
 Gaspar Metzler, with curiosity. 
 
 " I shall look for one," answered the Jew. '' I have 
 had dealings with persons of rank. I do not tliink 
 tliat a ])erson such as we want is impossibh' to find. 
 There are any number of ruined men who bear great 
 names. When a man is thoroughly ruined he becomes 
 reckless. I will search for one in that condition and 
 who possesses the information we require. I shall 
 offer him the half of the proceeds of our operations ; 
 the other half, which I trust will not be inconsiderable, 
 we shall divide amongst ourselves. Do you approve 
 of this ? "
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 9/ 
 
 They all answered in the affirmative. Then there 
 followed an animated discussion as to what people 
 were likely to be suitable for blackmailing purposes. 
 
 " Let us leave details for the present," said Moses 
 Jacobsohn ; " meanwhile we will take an oath of im- 
 plicit obedience to our chief when we have found him, 
 for without discipline we shall accomj^lish nothing. 
 Now let us drink success to our club." 
 
 " We have not yet given it a name," remarked 
 Hemrich Schultze. ' " What shall we call it ? " 
 
 " If it must be christened," replied the Jew, 
 laughing, " then let us call it the Blackguards' Club ; 
 it is as suitable a name as any." 
 
 They all raised their beer mugs and solemnly drank 
 success to the new institution. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the host, who always called his 
 guests by that name, " it is four o'clock in the morning, 
 and every one has left. I would like to close the place 
 if you have no objection." 
 
 They rose, and having settled their small account, 
 went out of the establishment. The rain had ceased, 
 and so they strolled together down the Unter den 
 Linden before parting company. The great avenue of 
 Berlin was almost deserted ; a few scavengers were 
 sweeping the leaves which had fallen from the lime 
 trees, and were making the place look tidy for the 
 morrow. Above the great dome of the palace the 
 morning star shone bright and beautiful.
 
 98 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THROUGHOUT the month of May Count Klin- 
 kenstein continued his attentions to Olga Zanelli, 
 and instead of becoming tired of her society, he seemed, 
 on the contrary, to be getting fonder and fonder of it. 
 He would contrive by some means or anotlier to see 
 her nearly every day, even if it was only for a few 
 moments, and it was evident by her manner that she 
 was growing not quite indifferent to him. 
 
 " How are you getting on with your Olga ? " asked 
 Baron Zerbino one night as he was dining with Count 
 Klinkenstein in a restaurant. '' I believe you spend 
 the whole day with her, for you seem completely to 
 have forgotten your friends. You are never at home 
 now ; what do you do with yourself ? I am sure I 
 have seen little enough of you during the last month." 
 
 " I do not see half enough of her," replied the 
 Count. " I wish I could enjoy a great deal more of her 
 society ; but she is a strange girl, and, I think, very 
 shy. Just imagine, she has so far refused all invi- 
 tations to have sui)j)er with me." 
 
 " I commend her conduct," said the Baron ; " you 
 forget, Klinkenstein, how compromising you are. I 
 am very glad to be assured that you are only 
 cultivating the jdatonic affections, a course so very 
 unusual to you. It is an excellent discij)lino, my
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 99 
 
 clear fellow ; let us only hope that yon will continne 
 in that line." 
 
 " The deuce take your jjlatonic relations ! " exclaimed 
 Count Klinkenstein, annoyed at being chaiFed. 
 
 " Do you, then, intend to marry her ? " inquired his 
 friend ; " that would certainly bring your military 
 career to a very abrupt termination. If you have 
 really fallen in love with her, you are indeed in a 
 bad way." 
 
 " You are very ridiculous, Zerbino ; why should you 
 assume that I am in love ? " said the Count, evidently 
 irritated at the idea that people should think that an 
 officer of the Gardes du Corps could j)ossibly really fall 
 in love with a milliner's assistant. " I have told you 
 over and over again that I like her, that she interests 
 and amuses me ; liking is not loving." 
 
 " It is not so easy to draw a distinction between the 
 two words," replied Zerbino. " As I know you to be 
 a man of high principles, I presume you would only 
 apply the word love to the relations between man and 
 wife, and reserve the word liking for those more ardent 
 and reprehensible passions which usually exist between 
 a man and his mistress." 
 
 " It is impossible to talk to you," answered Count 
 Klinkenstein ; " you pervert the meaning of every- 
 thing I say. What business have j'ou to suppose that 
 I want to make Olga Zanelli my mistress ? " 
 
 " How could I suggest such a thing ! " replied the 
 Baron, with mock gravity. " Do I not know that the 
 morals of the Gardes du Corps officers are as pure as 
 the white of their uniforms I " 
 
 " I do not know what the morals of our officers
 
 100 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 may be," retorted tlie Count ; " but I am sure that 
 they cannot be so cynically dissolute as those of you 
 diplomats. I have uo intention of doing the girl any 
 harm." 
 
 " If that is the case, Klinkenstein, then the sooner 
 you give up going to see her the better. The world is 
 neither green nor charitable, and will not believe that 
 a young and elegant officer i)ays so much attention 
 to a milliner's assistant only to do her good. But I 
 think it would be as well, if we wish to avoid having 
 a quarrel, to put Olga Zanelli on the shelf for to-night, 
 and to talk of other subjects." 
 
 " By all means," rejdied the Count, with alacrity ; 
 " you seem to think that she is the only subject I care 
 to' talk about." 
 
 They remained silent for a time sipping their iced 
 champagne, and thinking of some other subject of 
 conversation. 
 
 " To-morrow is the first Sunday in June," remarked 
 the Baron, suddenly ; " the weather ])romises to be 
 fine ; let us make an excursion into the country." 
 
 " That is an idea," exclaimed Count Klinkenstein, 
 jumping up from his seat ; '^ I wonder it never 
 occurred to me before. Good-night, Zerbino." 
 
 "Are you off?" cried the Baron ; "why you have 
 not half finished dinner ! What are yon up to ? " 
 
 " I want to go and write a letter to Olga," he 
 said ; " I shall invite her to spend the day with me 
 at Potsdam. It was an excellent suggestion of yours, 
 Zerbino ; I only hope she will come." 
 
 " Then you are again running after your Olga. Of 
 course she will be only too glad to come. I suppose it
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 101 
 
 will he as well if I stayed away ? — yon see, I might 
 make you shy, which would be a pity." 
 
 " If you do uot very much miud, it would be very 
 kind of you, my dear Zerbino, to do so. You are sure 
 to chaiF her, and she is not accustomed to that sort 
 of thing. I would not like anything disagreeable to 
 occur the first time she goes out with me. You 
 understand the situation, do you not ? Do you not 
 think you might stay in town to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Of course I will, my dear Klinkenstein," said the 
 Baron, bursting out laughing ; " I have no wish 
 whatever of disturbing your amusements. By all 
 means go and have a good coo with your sweetheart 
 under the trees. I think I may call her by that 
 name now she makes excursions all alone with you 
 into the country. You really need not be alarmed ; I 
 promise you I will not come. Good luck to you I " 
 
 Count Klinkenstein left the restaurant, and the 
 Baron remained to finish his dinner alone. 
 
 " What a fool that fellow is," he thought to him- 
 self ; " he is really in love with that girl. I knew it 
 would come to that, for Klinkenstein is so weak in 
 character, and he has absolutely no experience of the 
 world. I hope it will not end too badly. I have 
 given him enough good advice, I am sure ; if he will 
 not follow it, well I shall not be to blame if he breaks 
 his neck. All the same, I would like to be in his 
 place to-morrow. It is very pleasant to spend a day 
 under the trees with a pretty girl. It makes me 
 think of Rosa and the delightful summer afternoons I 
 used to spend with her in the Villa Borghese. What 
 a scene she made when I abandoned her ! I wonder
 
 lO:^ OLGA ZANEUJ. 
 
 what slio is doing now ? I su})j)Ose another man lias 
 taken my ])lace and that I am forg-otten ?" 
 
 Then the Baron ordered coffee and liquors, and 
 while puffing at a cigar fell into meditations on the 
 flight of time, and on the sliglitness of the affections 
 which generally bind men and women who are only 
 temporarily thrown together, and on the sweet 
 memories which nevertheless remain from such 
 unions. 
 
 On leaving the restaurant. Count Klinkenstein 
 drove straight to the Jockey Club, and set to work 
 composing his letter to Olga Zanelli. After having 
 spoiled several sheets of note-])a])er, he felt satisfied 
 with the following wording : — 
 
 "My Dear Olga,— 
 
 " To-morrow is Sunday, and you will not 
 be engaged. As the weather has every appearance of 
 being fine, will you make an excursion with me into 
 the country ? I have really seen so little of you of 
 late — a few minutes now and again counts for nothing 
 — that I feel the necessity of s})ending a whole day 
 by your side. Come, and do not disai)point me. 
 Never mind about answering ; I shall be at the 
 station at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and I feel 
 snre you will come. 
 
 " With many greetings and salutations, believe me 
 your tnie friend and admirer, 
 
 " Klinkenstein." 
 
 Having closed tlie letter the Count rang a bell, 
 and instmcted the waiter wlio a])})eared to give it
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 103 
 
 to a commissiouer to Lave it takeu at once to its 
 address. Having doue this, he strolled into the card- 
 room, where he found the usual gambling habitues 
 round the tables. He stayed long enough in the 
 room to lose some money, and at a reasonable hour 
 retired home to bed. 
 
 The next morning Count Kliukenstein, in civilian 
 dress, went to the station long before the time at 
 which the train was advertised to leave. He felt 
 doubts as to whether she would come, and he kept 
 anxiously looking out for any signs of her approach. 
 Presently the Count's heart began beating fast, for 
 he caught sight of her coming along, very neatly 
 dressed, and wearing the bonnet which he had sent 
 her as a present. It was not long before they were 
 both comfortably ensconced in a first-class carriage 
 by themselves. 
 
 " I am so glad you came," said the Count, as the 
 train moved out of the station. " How fresh you 
 look to-day, and in what good humour you seem 
 to be." 
 
 " It always puts me into a good humour to go 
 into the country," she replied. " The happiest days 
 of my childhood were the Sundays I used to spend 
 with my father in the forest. It seems now so very 
 long ago. Times have changed for me since then." 
 
 " Do not grow melancholy," interposed the Count, 
 as he saw her fall into meditations. " Let us be 
 unreservedly happy during one whole day, and let 
 us throw all cares to the wind." 
 
 " So let it be," • she replied, looking up into his 
 face with her bright eyes. "It is no use weeping
 
 104 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 over our lot ; let us rather enjoy ourselves when a 
 moment of liappiness i)asses our way." 
 
 " That is right, Olga ; we will allow no cloud to 
 spoil our enjoyment of this day." 
 
 They got out at the Wannsee station, as they 
 thought that they would be there nearer to the 
 forest than if they went on to the town of Potsdam, 
 as well as further away from the crowd of holiday 
 makers who would naturally go out of Berlin on a 
 fine Sunday in June. There was a restaurant and 
 beer garden at the station, but at that early hour 
 it was almost deserted ; here they had something to 
 eat, and then they started for a long walk across the 
 forest till they came to a high bank overlooking the 
 series of great lakes which are formed below Berlin 
 by the junction of the Havel and the Spree. Here, 
 far from the sound of humanity, they sat down on 
 a grassy spot. Around them was the silence of the 
 vast pine forest, unbroken save by the occasional 
 sharp rap of a woodpecker, or the groaning of the 
 tall, dry stems of the j)iues as they swayed beneath 
 the gentle June breeze. Below tliem lay an extensive 
 sheet of water, dotted here and there with the white 
 sail of a i)leasure-boat, while on the o})posite shore 
 a long string of barges was leisurely being punted 
 in the direction of the great city. 
 
 " Lolo, is it not charming to be far away from 
 every one ? " said the Count, lying at full length on 
 the grass, and resting his heatl on his arm. It was 
 the first time he had called her by that name, and 
 her look of astonishment was at once noticed by him. 
 " Are you suq)rised at my calling you Lolo ? " ho
 
 OLGA ZANELLI, 105 
 
 inquired. " Do not be offended at my taking that 
 liberty ; it seems to me that we have been acquainted 
 with each other for so long a time that we may well 
 put aside ceremony when we are alone together. You 
 told me your family called you by that name ; am I 
 not sufficiently your friend to be allowed the same 
 privilege ? Lolo is so much nicer than Olga." He 
 took her hand which she had been resting on a 
 moss-covered stone, and bringing it close to his lips 
 impressed upon it a long and tender kiss. 
 
 " By all means let me be Lolo to you," she replied. 
 " It is a name which has such pleasant recollections 
 for me, and it seems so long since any one called me 
 by it." 
 
 Count Klinkenstein, still holding her hand in his, 
 watched her face attentively for a time, and it seemed 
 to him that he detected tears in her eyes. The 
 thought that this beautiful girl was all alone in the 
 world sent a thrill of anger through him, and jiunping 
 up from his reclining position he said to her, " Lolo, 
 can you love ? " 
 
 His manner and the abruptness of the question 
 made her smile. " How can one tell," she said, 
 " until one has tried ? Love is a curious thing, and 
 there is a saj-ing that we often love most when we 
 are least aware of it." 
 
 Count Klinkenstein was on the point of asking 
 her whether she could love him, but his shyness 
 prevented him from doing so. Feeling the necessity 
 of making some remark, he said, " Lolo, have you 
 never thought of loving a man ? have you never felt 
 anv lonjj^in"- for married life ? "
 
 lUG <»L(;a ZANKLLI. 
 
 " Love and marriage are snch distinct things," she 
 replied. " 1 have noticed tliat much in my small 
 experience of life. In the Bohemian circles in which 
 I have lived marriages are so rarely hai)py ; one 
 loves one's art first ; excitement, praise, and applause 
 next ; and last of all, that which one slionld love 
 most, domestic happiness. Marriage has therefore no 
 particular attractions in my eyes. To marry any one 
 in my position of life would not make me liap])y ; 
 to marry any one else is practically ]ioi)eless." 
 
 " But do yon not think that, on tlie whole, iteojile 
 are happier for being married ? " inquired tlie (.'ount. 
 
 " Certainly," she replied. " Marriage in some cases 
 may answer very well ; it is all a matter of tem- 
 perament. To ])ersons of no imagination the small 
 excitements of the househohl may be sufficient ; for 
 my i)art, I have too mucli Bohemian blood in ray 
 veins to feel attracted to such a life of decent ]>overty 
 and dulness. I ^ill not barter away my freedom 
 for sucli a price. Better to live alone if one is j)oor, 
 than to feel oneself bound to another person in the 
 same condition. It is difficult enough to struggle 
 against the depressing influences and degradation of 
 poverty without having to lift another soul out of 
 this slough of despond. If one is not rich enough 
 to pay for strong emotions it is more satisfactory to 
 live alone and unfettered, for perhaps then one may 
 still retain enougli energy to dream them." 
 
 " Do you still think of going on the stage ? " in- 
 quired the Count. 
 
 " I certainly do," she answered, without any hesita- 
 tion : '' it is the oidy opening wliii-h 1 have ; tlie only
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 107 
 
 chance persons like myself have of feeling themselves 
 for a moment snrrounded by Inxury. Besides, I love 
 the live, the excitement, the noise, the applanse^ 
 the movement of living creatnres around me. There 
 is pleasure in having to wear the gaudy dresses in 
 which one api)ears on the stage, even though one is 
 aware that they must be laid aside after the perform- 
 ance, and that one will have to walk home in cheap 
 woollen garments and boots trodden down at heeL 
 Only think, one may be a princess for a moment, and 
 have at one's feet a noble lover bearing a fine-sounding- 
 name, and who whispers beautiful things into one's ear& 
 in the grandest language of this earth. Can you not 
 imagine, my friend, that such things are pleasant, 
 illusions though they be, and that they help to raise 
 our spirits for a time above the sordid surroundings 
 in which we have to spend our lives ? " 
 
 " Lolo, you close your eyes to the drudgery of an 
 actress's life ; the continual repetitions of the same 
 piece, the wearisome rehearsals, the heart burnings,, 
 bickerings, and continual squabbles which must exist 
 behind the scenes. The illusions you speak of soon 
 go ; the other disadvantages, however, always remain 
 present." 
 
 " Every profession has its drawbacks," quietly re~ 
 marked Olga Zanelli ; " and in many of them you 
 have not even got the chance of indulging in illusions. 
 Moreover, when one is poor one must be thankful for 
 little pleasures. You who are rich can afford to go in 
 search of your emotions, and if you enter a profession 
 it is only as a sort of amusement and only to save 
 yourself from idleness. With us it is different : our
 
 1U8 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 holidays are few, our toil is \om^, we are glad if we 
 can enter a profession in whose monotony there are 
 occasional breaks which act like snnshine upon us." 
 
 " I should think that a Bohemian life must cover a 
 great deal of misery, and you must be well aware, Lolo, 
 that actresses' marriages do not, as a rule, turn out 
 happily." 
 
 " That is true," she replied ; " how should it be 
 otherwise ? When an actress has to pass the more 
 interesting portion of her daily life in the world of 
 fancy, how is it possible for her to descend with 
 satisfiiction, perhaps from celestial heights, to the 
 discharge of the trivial and commonjjlace duties in the 
 real world which a husband may expect of her ? An 
 actress should be indei)endeut, unfettered, and free to 
 concentrate all the force and strength of her affections 
 upon her art ; she should not be hampered by the 
 burden of permanent ties ; then perhaps she may 
 succeed, and if she does, she will have the world at 
 her feet, and her triumjjh will be great ; and if she 
 should remain unknown and uuai)preciated, her sorrows 
 and disai)pointments will not be greater than those of 
 a person in my position who has to slave every day 
 at the millinery of hats in a dingy back room into 
 which the sun rarely penetrates, and without any 
 prospect of improving one's position." 
 
 " You seem to dislike your milliner's work xery 
 much," said Count Klinkenstein ; " can you not find 
 some distraction to make the burden of it seem 
 lighter?" 
 
 " I hate the work cordially," she replied ; " it is 
 true 1 sing during my liours of labour, and it seems
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 109* 
 
 to make them go by quicker, but still it is like 
 singing in a cage." 
 
 " Are yon very fond of music, Lolo ? " 
 
 " I love it more than I can tell you," she answered,, 
 quickly. " I do not believe I could live if I did not 
 occasionally hear music. Since my father's death ta 
 the time I knew you I was too poor to go to concerts 
 and theatres, and I had never set my foot in the 
 opera-house. I was miserable during that time. In 
 sending me tickets for such places you gave me more 
 pleasure and rendered me a greater service than you 
 were aware of. I never thanked you half enough for 
 them." 
 
 Olga Zanelli, with a sweet smile, bent forward and 
 kissed his forehead. The act was done so spontaneously 
 and gracefully that Count Klinkenstein was quite 
 taken aback, and quivering with emotion felt unable 
 to speak. There followed a long silence, during which 
 they remained reclining on the grassy slope contem- 
 plating the picturesque landscai)e before them and 
 absorbed in their own thoughts. 
 
 " I wish you would give up that idea of going on 
 the stage," said the Count, breaking the long silence. 
 *'It is no place for you now that you are grown 
 up ; it was all veiy well when you were a mere child 
 and your father was always present to look after you. 
 Now, Lolo, you ai-e so beautiful that you would be 
 exposed to all sorts of temptations. Be patient, and 
 do not despair ; you may yet marry a man with 
 ample means, who will be able to surround you 
 with real luxuries instead of with the tinsel of the 
 stage."
 
 lllj OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 " No, my friend, do not tiy and deceive me witli 
 such lioj)es ; in Germany there are too many social 
 prejudices, too much spirit of caste, to permit of such 
 misalliances. A man of good position who would 
 marry me would niin his career ; if I loved him I 
 would not care to be the cause of his ruin, and there- 
 fore I cannot marry. There are, no doubt, temptations 
 on the stage ; but I think I am old enougli to protect 
 myself from them. I have lived among actors and 
 actresses from my earliest youth, and I cannot say 
 that I have found them more wicked tlian other 
 people. They have tlieir faults and weaknesses, for 
 they are human ; but it is a j)opular delusion which 
 paints them in such black colours. I have no rela- 
 tions in the world to whom I must account for my 
 conduct ; I am free and inde])en(lent, and may do as 
 I i)lease without troubling myself with wliat the world 
 may say of me ; but I i)romise you, who liave been 
 my only friend since my father died, that I will 
 never become the mistress of any man unless I love 
 him." 
 
 " Lolo," exclaimed Count Klinkenstein, ^^'ith an 
 earnestness which astonished her, " for God's sake 
 do not go on the stage, promise me that ; I know how 
 it will all end if you do. You think yourself strong, 
 many have thought so too, and did not know their 
 weakness until it was too late. Your beauty will 
 tem])t men ; you will be surrounded ^\^th suitors ; you 
 will end by l)ecoming neither the wife nor the mistress 
 of one of them, but the common ])roperty of all. Lolo, 
 if it should come to tlint, I think I would kill you. 
 If you ])inf after luxuries, I will give you whatever
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. Ill 
 
 you want. I Lave so far abstained from offering you 
 money, because I thought you might be offended at it. 
 I am rich. I have far more than I can spend upon 
 myself ; take whatever you want : it -^vill give me more 
 pleasure to see you spend the money than to throw it 
 away upon myself." 
 
 The thought that social restraints, and the fact that 
 he was an officer in the army, rendered his marriage 
 with this girl i3ractically impossible, and that if she 
 was to be anji^hing more to him than a friend she 
 must become his mistress stirred his feelings to such 
 a degree that he was seized with an emotional fit, 
 and laying his head on her shoulders he burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " inquired Olga 
 Zanelli, half alarmed at the strange conduct of her 
 compaoion. 
 
 He looked up at her and tried to speak, but the 
 words seemed to stick in his throat, and all he could 
 do was to blurt out, " You are so very beautiful, Lolo," 
 and then he laid his head again upon her shoulders to 
 hide his tears, of which he felt ashamed. 
 
 Her sensitive woman's heart told her that something 
 had happened which she could not quite understand ; 
 the strange emotion of the Count made a deep impres- 
 sion upon her, and from that moment she began to 
 feel differently towards him than she had hitherto 
 done, and he became to her something more than a 
 mere acquaintance. There followed another long 
 pause, during which they both remained silent ; then 
 she turned the conversation on to other subjects to 
 the srreat relief of the Count. Lolo now seemed to
 
 112 ('L(iA ZANKLLI. 
 
 be seized witli a fit of gaiety, aud coutiuually l)roke 
 ont into snatches of song. 
 
 " Let us gather some wild flowers," she said to her 
 companion. " I may as well bring back to town 
 something to remind me of the country." 
 
 So tliey rose and descended the grassy slope on 
 whicli they had been seated to where the ground was 
 flat along the shores of the lake. There tlie gmss 
 was high and the flowers plentiful. The Count exerted 
 himself to the utmost to select and pick the most 
 beautiful ones for his fair com])anion, and he did not 
 hesitate to get wet in trnng to catch some of the 
 water-lilies which floated on the surface of the lake at 
 a short distance from the shore. 
 
 They liad wandered about for a considerable time, 
 when the Count remarked that the sun was getting 
 low, and that it would be well to return to the station, 
 and to order dinner at the restaurant there. So they 
 retraced their steps through the forest, where already 
 the gloom was setting in, and where the shadows of 
 the tall pines were growing every minute longer and 
 longer on the sandy soil. Silently for a time they walked 
 along, until Lolo, unable to restrain the happiness she 
 felt, woke the echoes through the forest as she sang, 
 with her sweet and clear voice, the love song of 
 Fortunio. 
 
 Arrived at the station, they ordered dinner to be 
 served on the terrace of the restaurant, wliere they 
 would be a little away from tlie crowd of Sunday 
 excursionists, who were drinking beer amid much noise 
 and jollification in the garden of the establishment. 
 The dinner j)assed oti' agreea])ly, for Lolo was now in
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 113 
 
 high spirits, aud the Count Lad recovered from his fit 
 of violent emotions. It was late when they returned 
 to Berlin, and at the door of the shop in the Leipziger- 
 strasse where Lolo lived the Count took leave of her, 
 and received that kiss which he so longed for but 
 which he felt too shy to demand. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 114 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OX the evening of the following day Count Klin- 
 kenstein and Baron Zerbino were both invited 
 to dine at the British Embassy. It was late in the 
 season to give a great diplomatic banquet, as most 
 people were out of town ; but as a very distinguished 
 stranger was at that moment passing through Berlin, 
 the ambassador had tliought it his duty to invite 
 princes, generals, and other great persons to meet liim. 
 The fine suite of reception-rooms had been tlirown 
 open, and innumerable wax candles shed a soft light 
 on the brilliant uuifonns which filled the rooms. The 
 servants in their gorgeous liveries, with their knee- 
 breeches and powdered hair, stootl like sentinels at the 
 doors. There were so many persons of high rank 
 present, that at dinner Count Klinkenstein and the 
 Baron found themselves seated at the end of the table 
 on either side of Sydney Gray, one of the secretaries of 
 the embassy. 
 
 " I hear you have been s])ending a hapjn- Sunday at 
 Potsdam ^vith your Italian girl," said Sydney Gray, 
 addressing the Count. 
 
 " It is true," he replied ; " I went ^^^th her to 
 Wannsee, I thought it would be kind to take her out 
 of town for a day. I sui)])0se Zevl>ino told you? He 
 can never keej) anything to himself."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 115 
 
 The Barou protested that he was the most discreet 
 of men, but that he could not possibly have imagined 
 that his friend ^^dshed his expedition to the country to 
 be kept secret. 
 
 " You seem to be getting very philanthropic, my 
 dear Kliuken stein," remarked Sydney Gray, " now 
 that you take young ladies into the country to give 
 them an airing on Sundays. May I ask whether you 
 restrict j-our attentions to one person, or have a large 
 number a participation in your disinterested kind- 
 ness ? " 
 
 " You may chaff me as much as ever you like," 
 replied the Count, " it will not alter the fact that it 
 was a kindness on my part to take her out for a day in 
 the country." 
 
 " By the way, what is her name ? " intpiired the 
 Englishman. " I have quite forgotten it." 
 
 " Lolo," replied the Count. 
 
 " Is she now called Lolo ? " broke in the Baron, 
 much amused. " I always thought her name was 
 Olga." 
 
 " Olga or Lolo, it is all tlie same thing," replied the 
 Count, rather sharply. 
 
 " Are you still as infatuated with her as you were 
 some six weeks ago ? " inquired Sydney Gray. 
 
 " I am as fond of her now as I have ever been." 
 
 " Do you remember the supper we had together the 
 night you returned from that foolish journey to Baden- 
 Baden ? " continued Sydney Gray. " Did I not advise 
 you then to shun this girl as much as possible ? I 
 have no doubt that instead of doing so you have been 
 every day to see her. As you call her Lolo, you must
 
 116 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 alrcjidy l>e on intimate terms with licr ; and I suppose 
 that in a sliort time you will announce to us that she 
 lias become your mistress, and in some six months' 
 time having got tired of her, you will apjieal to us 
 your friends to get you out of the mess, and then there 
 will he tears and scenes and certainly a great deal of 
 scandal." 
 
 " Do not say anything nasty against her," pleaded 
 the Count ; " you do not know what she is. You 
 wrong her if you think that she is my mistress ; she is 
 not that, and not likely ever to be it. My dear Gray, 
 let us leave this subject alone." 
 
 A silence fell for a time on that end of the table, 
 then the Baron, who could not bear to hold his tongue 
 for any length of time, began a loud discussion with 
 his neighbour, an elderly general, on the merits of the 
 German stage, a subject about which he was pro- 
 foundly ignorant, as he was unacquainted with the 
 language, and rarely set his foot in a Berlin theatre ; 
 that did not prevent him from violently abusing 
 German and extolling French acting, and from main- 
 taining that the theatres of Paris were tlie only ones 
 which could be visited with satisfaction by an educated 
 man. " In London," he sliouted into the general's 
 ear, " they act no better than they do here ; but at 
 least they present you with beautiful scenery, gorgeous 
 dresses, and lovely female charms ; here your scenery 
 is shabby, your choruses cannot sing, and as for the 
 female ^^^rsoTi-n^Z it is simply revoltingly ngly." The 
 solemn old general took his lively neighbour au 
 serieu, and defended the stage of his country from 
 tlie aspersions wliich liad been thrown u})on it.
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 117 
 
 Freucli acting, he argued, possessed every imaginable 
 bad point ; it was exaggerated in manner and de- 
 clamatory, and as for French plays they were full 
 of false sentiment, and suggestive of everything that 
 was wicked, and though they were undoubtedly im- 
 proved when presented in a German dress, yet even 
 then they were scarcely decent. It should be remarked 
 that the worthy general had never in his life been to 
 a French theatre, and that the only time he had set 
 foot in Paris was on the occasion of the entry of the 
 victorious German army into that city, so his know- 
 ledge of French acting was almost on a par with 
 the little Baron's acquaintance with German theatres. 
 Their real ignorance of the subject did not prevent an 
 amusing discussion from taking place, which enlivened 
 the dull and solemn dinner, and the ambassador, 
 flanked by two portly and uninteresting princesses of 
 exalted rank, visibly sighed for the companionship of 
 such lively persons as were at the bottom of his table. 
 On Count Klinkenstein's other side sat a thin and 
 meek-looking gentleman who had so far not ventured 
 to open his lips during dinner, and whose dress un- 
 mistakably pronounced him to be an English clergy- 
 man. In the midst of the profusion of military 
 uniforms the sombre garments of this man of peace 
 seemed quite out of place. The circumstances which 
 had brought him to Berlin were these. The society 
 for the due observance of the Sabbath had selected 
 him as being a person full of zeal and as having a 
 certain literary reputation, for he was a well-known 
 contributor to several religious papers, and had 
 entrusted him with a mission to rejtort on the way
 
 lis 0L(5A ZANKLU. 
 
 the Sabbath was kei»t in Protestant countries on the 
 (lontinent. He was a Dissenting minister in a great 
 nortliern city, and before starting to carry out his 
 mission lie liad ai)i)lied to the member of parliament 
 for that town to obtain for him a circular letter of 
 recommendation to the British rej)resentatives abroad. 
 As that member's seat was considered far from safe, 
 the Ministry at once acceded to the reijuest of one 
 of his constituents, and the letter of recommendation 
 was written and forwarded to the reverend gentleman. 
 As the Secretary of State was signing the same, he 
 remarked to his private secretary that it would be a 
 blessing if these troublesome parsons would stay at 
 home where there was plenty of work for them to do, 
 and to leave other countries to look after themselves ; 
 however, if he only wanted a tri]) on the Continent, this 
 letter would certainly be useful, and would jjrobably 
 provide him wath invitations to better dinners than 
 the ])Oor man had ever eaten. On arriving at Berlin 
 the letter was presented to the ambassador, who 
 expressed himself much interested in the reverend 
 gentleman's mission, but dreading to have the society 
 of so zealous and religious a i)erson at dinner all 
 alone, he invited him to the great banquet he was 
 about to give in a few days. That was how the 
 Reverend Reubens Kidd found himself dining at the 
 ambassador's table. He was a shy and timid jterson, 
 and he felt quite uncomfortable at finding himself in 
 the society of so many foreigners, for he did not s]»eak 
 a word of any other language than English. He had 
 been brought up at the grammar school of his native 
 city, where he had acquired a competent knowledge of
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 119 
 
 things ancient, and he knew the whereabouts of every 
 spot in what he was accustomed to call with much 
 unction the Holy Land, but he was grossly ignorant 
 of modern history or geography, or general practical 
 knowledge of the world. 
 
 " Have you ever been here before ? " said Count 
 Klinkenstein, addressing the Rev. Reubens Kidd, for 
 he thought that it was incumbent upon him to say 
 something to his neiglibour during dinner. 
 
 " Never, sir," replied the jmrson ; " I have never as 
 yet been out of my country, and I must confess that I 
 am very much astonished at what I have so far seen. 
 I had an idea that Berlin was a town of the size of 
 Sheffield or Newcastle ; I did not expect to find so 
 large a city." 
 
 " We are making progress," remarked the Count. 
 " Are you pleased generally with what you have 
 seen ? "' 
 
 " I cannot with sincerity say I am," he replied. 
 " I am astonished at what I saw yesterday. It was a 
 revelation to me. I could hardly believe my eyes that 
 in a Protestant country the Sunday would be spent by 
 the people as it is." 
 
 " What did you see to annoy you ? " inquired the 
 Count. 
 
 " What I saw, sir ? I saw everything which a 
 Christian man would wish not to see. I went into 
 some of your churches — they seem to be few and far 
 between — and the attendance was far from good. In 
 the streets every one seemed to be out in order to 
 amuse himself ; at the station there were crowds 
 of excursionists, and I am even told that there were
 
 120 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 horse-races yesterday, and that the theatres wen' 
 open." 
 
 " Do you find fault ^\ntli tliat ? " inf^uired the Count, 
 rather amused at the seriousness of his neighbour, 
 " I also went out of town yesterday, as I thought 
 it was the most sensible way of spending a fine 
 Sunday." 
 
 " The military element has always li.ad the reputa- 
 tion of giving bad examples," answered the parson. " I 
 am afraid it is an ungodly profession. One of the 
 first duties of a Christian people is to keep the Sabbath. 
 That it is so badly kept here is jirobably due to the 
 unfortunate influence of the large nimiber of soldiers 
 one sees everywhere. I was quite taken by surprise 
 at their great numbers ; even here at the British 
 Embassy I see nothing but uniforms ; this is unknown 
 in England. Sir, you Germans must indeed be a 
 very military nation." 
 
 " We have had that rcimtation for some time," 
 remarked the Count. 
 
 " I am sorry for you, then," went on the Reverend 
 Reubens Kidd ; " for a military nation is generally a 
 bad one. How can ])eople who make it their chief duty 
 to study how to kill others be godfearing ? It seems to 
 me that you require a great deal of levelling uj) here. 
 Every Sunday there ought to be i)reachers in your 
 streets, in your thoroughfares, in your public places 
 and parks. I can assure you, sir, that I was so moved 
 yesterday by what I saw that I very nearly began 
 preaching in your Thiergarteu to the i)eople who were 
 engaged in desecrating the Sabbath. I was only 
 restrained by the consideration that they would pro-
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 121 
 
 bably not understaucl me if I spoke to tlieiii in 
 English." 
 
 " It is just as well that you did not try," said the 
 Count, " for you would most certainly have been stojjped 
 by the police. You cannot trifle with them in Berlin, 
 and they are very severe upon persons who make a 
 miisance of themselves and create disturbances in 
 public." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the parson. " Is there no 
 liberty as well as no religious feeling in this country ? 
 I pity you, sir — I j)ity you from the bottom of my 
 heart. You do not know the blessings of freedom. 
 You should come to England and see them. Arrest a 
 man for preaching in the open air ! It is abominable. 
 Who are your governors, I should like to know ? The 
 Mussulman Turk, I am sure, would be more tolerant 
 than you are who call yourselves a Christian nation." 
 
 " Every country has its customs and habits," replied 
 Count Klinkenstein. " What suits you in England 
 might not suit us here; personally I am very much 
 opposed to individuals being allowed to parade their 
 eccentricities out of doors." 
 
 " Eccentricities ! " cried the parson. " Sir, do you 
 call it an eccentricity to preach the Gospel of Christ 
 to the people ? It is pitiful to hear young men 
 talking of serious subjects with such levity." 
 
 His further remarks, to Count Klinken stein's intense 
 relief, were cut short by the ambassador rising, for 
 the dinner was over. 
 
 " For goodness' sake deliver me from that lotpiacious 
 priest ! " said the Count, coming up to Sydney Gray, 
 as they were both walking out of the dining-room. " I
 
 i::'-^ OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 spoke to liim out of kindness, as I noticed that he did 
 not open liis li])s durinir dinner, hnt I did not expect 
 to Iiavo a sermon preached to me." 
 
 " You can easily slip away un])erceived presently," 
 replied Sydney Gray, " for the ambassador has a recep- 
 tion to-night, and the rooms will soon be full of people." 
 
 " I shall certainly do so as soon as it is possible," 
 said the Count, for the presence of that priest, and the 
 dread that he may try to button-hole me and inflict a 
 sermon upon me, make me feel quite unwell." 
 
 " Where can I find you later ? " 
 
 " At the Jockey Club ; after the excellent dinner of 
 your ambassador I feel in the humour to go in for a 
 good gamble to-night." 
 
 " Do not let yourself be carried away, Kliukenstein; 
 I shall come and see how you are getting on as soon as 
 I am able to leave ; but you see I am on duty to-night, 
 and I must stay here till all the guests are gone." 
 
 Half an hour later Count Kliukenstein and Baron 
 Zerbino edged tlieir way through the crowd of distin- 
 guished persons who already filled the rooms, intending 
 to escajjc unperceived; but the Reverend Heubeus Kidd 
 noticed their movements, and, getting to the door of 
 the room at the same time as they did, he touched the 
 ( lount gently on the shoulder, and said, " Sir, I would 
 be much obliged if you would give me your address, 
 that I may be able to send you a tract I have written 
 on the Church Militant." 
 
 (bunt Kliukenstein gave it him with riductance, and 
 then sli])j)ed through tlie door as quickly as it was 
 j)0ssibl(', jind lost no time in removing himself to the 
 more frivolous atuios])lu're of the .Toekey Club.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 123- 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 DURING the preceding few uiglits the Jockey Club 
 had been passing through one of its periodical 
 fits of heavy gambling, and when Count Klinkenstein 
 and his friend Baron Zerbino entered the house they 
 found, although it was still pretty early, that the card- 
 room was already full of people, and that nearly every 
 table was occupied. One could see many anxious faces 
 poring over the cards, in doubt whether the sums lost on 
 tbe previous nights would be recovered or their amount 
 only increased. An unmistakable feeling of excitement 
 and agitation prevailed in the room, and although 
 silence was enjoined by the rules of the club, yet when- 
 over a jmrticularly lucky combination of cards turned uj) 
 in some player's hand an immediate and loud buzz of 
 conversation rose from the persons who were watching 
 the game. Round the tables where the more reckless 
 j)layers were seated there was quite a crowd of on- 
 lookers, many of whom had an interest in the issue 
 of the game by the bets which they had made. 
 
 About eleven o'clock, the party at the British 
 Embassy being over, Sydney Gray aj^peared, and, find- 
 ing that Count Klinkenstein was engaged in making 
 foolish and excessive wagers, ofiered, in order to prevent 
 him from doing so, to play at ecarte with him for low 
 points. They found a table at the end of the room,.
 
 I'^-i ULGA ZAXELLI. 
 
 but before they luul been able to ])lay many games 
 they were disturbed by the arrival of Banker Grune- 
 baum. Tliis i)erson had been the liero of the last few- 
 nights, for tliongli he liad begun by losing heavily, luck 
 hatl eventually turned, and he had been able not only 
 to recover what he had previously lost, but also to Avin 
 some very large sums of money from members of the 
 club. Directly the Banker had entered the room all 
 gambling ceased and the tables were deserted, and 
 quite a crowd collected round the arch-gambler eager 
 to inquire what his intentions were. There followed a 
 moment of quiet, as if every gambler was trying to 
 recover calmness of nerve for the real work of the night. 
 
 " What are you going to do to-night, Herr Grunc- 
 baum ? " inquired the ducal head of the house of 
 Hohenschwanz." Are you going to give us a chantre 
 of recovering some of our money ? I never saw such 
 luck as you have had of late. It is really not fair." 
 
 " I believe the Jew has sold his soul to the devil," 
 muttered Count Immersdorf, who had been one of 
 the heavy losers of the previous nights, and who luul 
 had the greatest difficulty in raising a loan of some 
 £50U that day at a high rate of interest in order to 
 bave a chance of recouping himself that night. 
 
 " I am quite ready for the fray," answered Herr 
 Grunebaum ; " it is my last night for some time, as I 
 leave to-morrow for Ostend with my family. I ask for 
 nothing better than that you should jtlay high. I can 
 stand some reverses, gentlemen ; look," and he pulled 
 out of his pocket a large roll of bank-notes, '' 1 have 
 here 4U0,000 marks ; come, you may do your best to 
 make a hole in it."
 
 OLGA ZANELLT. 125- 
 
 The annonucement that the Banker was leaving 
 Berlin on the morrow created quite a sensation among 
 the players in the room whose losses had been great, 
 and who realised that their only chance of righting- 
 their finances was to go in for another heavy gamble 
 that night, and to trust to better luck. Those who 
 had not brought enough money were eagerly engaged 
 borrowing from their friends and acquaintances wha 
 were better provided than themselves, at least enough 
 to enable them to take a part in the coming gamble. 
 C'Ount Immersdorf was one of the most pressing in 
 trying to borrow, for he considered the £500 he had 
 with difficulty raised that day was a quite inadequate 
 sum for his purposes, but he met with little success, 
 for he seemed to have no friends, and even Herr 
 Schlangenbeck, with whom he had been so intimate, 
 declined to lend him anything, for of late a coolness 
 had arisen between them owing to the ill-success of 
 certain betting transactions, for which the Count was 
 held responsible. 
 
 There was also a certain Lieutenant von Schmaling 
 who seemed very eager to borrow, and he succeeded in 
 raising some £600 from among his friends. C*ount 
 Klinkenstein, who was always ready to help a friend 
 in money matters, and who that morning had received 
 from his agent a large consignment of rents, lent him 
 a couple of hundred pounds with the greatest alacrity. 
 Lieutenant von Schmaling was a young officer who 
 had but quite recently joined one of the Guard Uhlan 
 regiments quartered at Potsdam. He had been a 
 heavy loser on the previous nights, it was rumoured 
 to the amount of some two or three thousand pounds.
 
 120 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 In iKiiniwiug from Count Klinkenstein he liad said to 
 liim : " If I do not win to-night, I do not know what 
 I shall do." His father owned considerable estates, 
 hut they were lieavily mortgaged, and he had a large 
 family. 
 
 " Let us begin our ^carte," said the Duke, taking a 
 seat at a green baize covered table in the middle of the 
 room. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the Banker, seating himself 
 opposite the Duke. " I shall, as usual, play against 
 the club ; and I am prepared to accept any stakes you 
 gentlemen may wish to lay against me." 
 
 Every other table in the room was now deserted, 
 and such a crowd of persons gathered round the two 
 })layers that it became difficult to see what was going 
 on, and cliairs and even a table had to be brought, on 
 which members could stand and watch with greater 
 comfort the varying fortunes of the games which were 
 of such im])ortance to so many of them. Before 
 beginning to play Herr Grunebaum called for a waste- 
 paper basket, which he put by his side, and into which 
 he threw all the paper money he had brought with 
 him. 2s^ew packs of cards having been brought, the 
 players cut for deal, which the Banker wt>n, and the 
 play began. The backers of the Duke laid their money 
 down either in the shape of gold or notes, or " jetons," 
 which they obtained from an official of the club, and 
 on which the value they represented was clearly 
 marked. From his basket Herr Gnmebaum pulled 
 up enougli bank-notes to balance the amount laid 
 against him, and then proceeded to deal tlie canls. 
 He turned up the king ; like most gamblers, he was
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 127 
 
 superstitious, and lie remarked, "It is all right ; I 
 shall win to-night." 
 
 However, in spite of the royal card, he lost the 
 first game, and the Duke ceded his chair to the next 
 player on the list. There was a visible expression of 
 delight on the faces of the gamblers as each one of 
 them removed from the green cloth his share of the 
 Banker's money. The next name on the list was that 
 of Count Immersdorf ; as he had the reputation of 
 being a good player, a great deal of money was laid 
 on him. The game proved intensely exciting, as both 
 sides had scored four points, when the Banker suc- 
 ceeded, through bad play on the part of the Count, in 
 making the fifth. With the greatest unconcern Herr 
 Grunebaum brushed the gold, notes, and " jetons " into 
 the basket by his side. Count Klinkenstein followed. 
 He was of too nervous and excitable a nature to play 
 well on such an occasion, when he was surrounded by 
 so many eager spectators, and when such large sums 
 were dependent on the way he played his cards. He 
 lost the game, and a loud murmur of uncomi^limentary 
 comments on the way he had played the game rose 
 from his unfortunate backers, who saw their money 
 swept into the large basket by the Banker's side. 
 When quiet had been restored the play continued with 
 many ups and downs of fortune. 
 
 Herr Grunebaum had just had a run of luck when 
 it became the turn of the Landrath of Jiiterbock to 
 handle the cards. He was a rotund, jovial little man, 
 with a red face; he was very popular among the 
 members of the club, for he was fond of sport and 
 could stand more drink than most of them, and he
 
 128 OLGA ZAXELLI. 
 
 was always in good hnmour. He never allowed his 
 official duties to prevent him from coming ii]) to 
 Berlin to spend a few days in his favourite Jockey 
 Cluh whenever there was any racing of imjwrtauce at 
 Hoppegarten. His fortune was moderate, and he was 
 wise enougli never to impair it by reckless gambling 
 or betting. 
 
 " Now, old fellow," said one of the bystanders, 
 " show the Banker what you can do." 
 
 " Pile the money on me," replied the Landrath, 
 laughing ; " you will see that 1 will win for you." 
 
 Heir Grunebaum had to deal the cards, and some- 
 thing like a thousand pounds were laid against him. 
 He turned up the king and won the game. 
 
 " You have no luck to-night," muttered Count 
 Immersdorf impatiently, for he had staked £200 on 
 the Landrath, and he looked upon them as lost. 
 
 " Do not worry," rej)lied the Landrath, with a merry 
 look in his face which irritated the Count ; " go and 
 have a drink and keep cool ; tliere is nothing lost yet ; 
 Herr Grunebaum has only made two i)oints ; you will 
 see I will win this gameT 
 
 " I wish the deuce you would," remarked Count 
 Immersdorf, turning his back upon the })layers, for he 
 was too agitated to watch the game. 
 
 The Landrath won the next two games, making a 
 point each time ; then he and his ojiponent alternately 
 scored single points, till they both stood at four. 
 Count Immersdorf had returned to the table, and so 
 intense was his excitement that the i)ersj)iration was 
 running down his face ; he was generally remarkable 
 for his coolness, but at the ])resent moment the loss
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 129 
 
 of two linndred pounds meant almost financial ruin 
 to him. The cards were again dealt, and amid 
 breathless excitement the Landrath just succeeded 
 in j^ulling through. Herr Grunebaum, with his 
 elbow, brushed the bank-notes on the table over to 
 liis opponent. 
 
 " Bring me a drink ! " shouted the Landrath. 
 " Playing such a game makes one hot." 
 
 " You deserve it," said Count Immersdorf, as he 
 put the four hundred pounds into his pocket. 
 
 The play continued for several hours without any- 
 thing of particular interest occurring. At two o'clock 
 in the morning Sydney Gray thought it time to 
 go home, and so did Baron Zerbino. They neither 
 of them were gamblers, though they had on this 
 occasion put down a few sovereigns now and again, 
 and they had had the good fortune of winning a 
 small sum. Count Klinkenstein, having had a good 
 dinner at the Embassy and innumerable drinks 
 subsequently, was getting reckless in his play, so 
 his two friends tried to induce him to come home, 
 but without success, for he answered all their per- 
 suasive arguments by sapng, " My good fellows, I 
 am having a run of luck to-night ; I am already 
 six hundred pounds to the good. It is nonsense to 
 leave when one just hapjjens to be winning." 
 
 " Luck will change," replied Sydney Gray. " You 
 ought to be highly satisfied at having won so 
 much." 
 
 " I mean to ^san a great deal more," answered the 
 C'ount. " Good-night ; we shall meet to-morrow at 
 the Restaurant des Ambassadeurs about mid-day." 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 nl.ciA ZANKLLT. 
 
 " All right," replied Syduey Gray, as he left the 
 room ^^^th tlie Baron. 
 
 The card-room was getting now less crowded as 
 many memlxTs liad left, and only the most inveterate 
 gamblers remained. Every one was at his ease ; 
 tlie officers had their tunics unbuttoned, and some 
 members had even allowed themselves to take off 
 tlieir coats, for tlie night was warm. So far Herr 
 Grunebaum had won, though not to any very large 
 extent. Count Klinkenstein and Lieutenant von 
 Schmjiling were eacli of them some six or seven 
 hundred ])ounds to the good, while Count Immersdorf, 
 much to his disappointment, was just about where he 
 was at the beginning of the evening. The two heavy 
 losers had been the Ducal President of the Club and 
 Herr Schlangenbeck, both of wliom had lost a couple 
 of thousand pounds. Several persons had lost or 
 won smaller sums, among the former was Prince 
 Adoli)hus of Hohenschwanz, a son of the Duke and 
 a lieutenant in a cavalry regiment. As he liad lost 
 all the cash he possessed he had ajiplied to his 
 father to lend liim some notes, but the Duke liad 
 declined, saying, ''Go to bed, my boy ; you have 
 done enougli for to-night : two of a family jdaying 
 at cards is too much. Go away." The lieavy and 
 sleei)y Prince therefore retired to the adj<»ining room, 
 wliere lie stretclied liimself out on a couch and soon 
 fell asleep, and the noble Duke, whik' engaged in 
 losing his money, liad the satisfaction of hearing the 
 loud snores of his offsjiring, and of knowing that 
 at least one of his numerous sons was for the 
 moment incapacitated from doing any mischief.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 131 
 
 Now that so many of the mere on-lookers had left, 
 and that only the real gamblers remained seated 
 round the table, the pLay continued in a more 
 business-like manner. The fortunes of the game 
 varied much, but on the whole it seemed as if Herr 
 Grunebaum were steadily losing. The gamblers were 
 jubilant, and the Duke's face was radiant, .for although 
 his income was too large to make him feel his losses 
 very seriously, yet he loved winning. In spite of 
 bad fortune Herr Grunebaum remained undoubtedly 
 the most cool-headed person in the room ; he indulged 
 in few remarks, and he seemed absolutely unperturbed 
 by the magnitude of the stakes involved, and in- 
 diiFereut to whether he lost or won. 
 
 " We are all in for a ran of luck," remarked 
 Lieutenant von Schmaling. " I shall be able to 
 pay oif a large portion of my debts to-morrow. I 
 would not miss being here for anything." 
 
 " It does look as if the Banker's luck had deserted 
 him," said the Duke. " ^Ye must increase the stakes 
 against him." 
 
 Four o'clock in the morning had struck. There 
 followed a pause of a few minutes, during which the 
 members engaged in a buzz of conversation. 
 
 " Gentlemen, do any of you care to continue the 
 game ? " inquired Herr Grunebaum, thumbling the 
 cards. 
 
 " We all do," was the unanimous reply. 
 
 " I am quite ready then, gentlemen. Whose turn 
 is it to play against me ? " 
 
 " Mine," said Herr Schlangenbeck, taking his seat 
 opposite to Herr Grunebaum.
 
 13:2 OLGA ZAXKLLI. 
 
 The cards were dealt, and tlie g-ame ])eo:aii a^'-ain. 
 
 " I mark tlie killer," said tlie Banker. " It is a 
 long time since 1 have seen him ; now he returns, 
 I hoj)e my luck will do the same." He made the 
 five ])oints quickly, and raked the heavy stakes into 
 his ])asket. 
 
 Tlie Duke now took the cards, 1)ut he too was 
 unlucky, and lost the game. He was followed by 
 Count Klinkenstein, who was also unsuccessful, as 
 well as Count Immersdorf, the next player. Herr 
 Grunebaum had now won four games running. Blank 
 dismay seemed to seize the players as they saw their 
 winnings gradually swe])t into the Banker's basket. 
 
 " Luck has indeed changed," moaned Lieutenant 
 von Schmjiling, who had only four hundred i)Ounds 
 remaining, and who thought of his heavy debts and 
 of the imjtossibility to pay them. 
 
 " Low stakes is now the game," remarked Count 
 liumersdorf. " Let Herr Grunebaum's luck run it- 
 self out, and then when it begins to turn j)ile it on." 
 
 The advice was followed, and the stakes were com- 
 jiaratively low during the next three games, wliich the 
 Banker still succeeded in winning. 
 
 " This cannot last," exclaimed the Duke, as he 
 laid a thousand pounds upon the table. " He has 
 already won seven times running, he is certain to 
 lose the next game." 
 
 The stakes were run high ; Count Immersdorf jmt 
 £1250 on the table, the half of what remained to him, 
 antl Lieutenant von Schnuding, carried away by the 
 examj)le of the others, ])ut down a hundred pounds out 
 of liis small store.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 133 
 
 The cards were dealt and Herr Granebaiim, after a 
 series of most exciting games, won again. 
 
 " This is incredible ! " murmured the Duke. " Herr 
 Grunebaum, liave you any objection to taking a cheque 
 of mine ? " 
 
 " None whatever," replied tlie Banker. 
 
 The Duke wrote out a cheque, and handed it to Her;- 
 Grunebaum, who cashed it out of the contents in his 
 basket. 
 
 Feeling certain this time that the Banker must lose 
 the next game. Count Immersdorf staked all the 
 money which remained to him, and Lieutenant von 
 Schmaling doubled his previous stake of £100. With 
 breathless anxiety the players watched the course of 
 the game, which Herr Grunebaum again won with ease. 
 
 A loud oath escajjed from Count Immersdorf as Jie 
 saw himself ruined, for at that moment he did not 
 know where he could raise even a five-pound note. 
 Rising from his chair livid, with his face contorted by 
 his violent agitation, he went and sat on a divan at 
 the furthest end of the room and buried his face in his 
 hands ; the other persons present were too occupied 
 with their own affairs to pay any attention to him. 
 
 Lieutenant von Schmaling, reduced to the possession 
 of a single £100, hesitated whether he should put it 
 all on at once or not, but thinking that to play for 
 a smaller sum would do him no good in his i)reseut 
 position he risked it all, hoiking that if he were now 
 lucky enough to win three or four times running he 
 would recoup himself to a certain extent, and it certainly 
 did seem improbable that Herr Grunebaum could 
 possibly continue to win ; yet this Avas to be the case,
 
 134 oLciA ZANELLI. 
 
 and it was only at the eleventh game that the 
 Banker's rnn of hick ceased and that lie lost, but the 
 stakes were tlien of low value. The clock in the room 
 struck five. 
 
 " 1 think it is time to go to bed," remarked the 
 Duke, and as no one seemed much inclined to disjmte 
 that jioint and to continue to play, Herr Grnnebaum 
 mopjied liis face, and having collected his winnings 
 bade good-night to tlie company and went home. He 
 was soon followed by the Duke and most of the other 
 I)ersons in the room. 
 
 " Are you going to pass the night here ? " said 
 Count Klinkenstein, as he crossed the adjoining room, 
 and found Prince Adolphus of Hohenschwanz still 
 asleep and snoring lustily on a conch. 
 
 " Eh I Is it so late ? " inquired the Prince, starting 
 nj) and rubbing his eyes. 
 
 " Past five in the morning," an>iwercd Count 
 Klinkenstein. " We have had a bad night of it ; I 
 have lost everything I had previously won ; and as for 
 your father, he has simply droj)ped thousands." 
 
 " Old fool I " muttered the Prince ; " why did he 
 not let me play ? I could not have done worse than 
 he has." Then taking the Count's arm he left the 
 club witli him. 
 
 The card-room was now deserted by everyone except 
 the jovial Laiidrath, who, having won a little, was in 
 excellent good humour, and Lieutenant von Schmiiling, 
 who was leaning against the mantel])iece absorbed in 
 thouglits. 
 
 " It is ridiculous nonsense going to bed at this l»our," 
 said the Liindrath, jtulling back the Iieavy ^\^ndow
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 135 
 
 curtains aud letting the rays of the new risen sun 
 enter the room. " What is the matter with you, 
 Schmaling ? Are you unwell ? You look so very 
 pale." 
 
 " I have lost heavily to-night," replied the young 
 officer in a low voice. 
 
 " Cheer up, that is nothing," continued the Land- 
 rath ; "lose to-day, win to-morrow, that is the way 
 with card-plapng. You will have better luck another 
 day, my dear fellow." 
 
 " It is a serious matter for me to lose so much 
 money," remarked the Lieutenant ; then heaving a deep 
 sigh, he added, " I do not know what I shall do." 
 
 " What you will do ? " echoed the Landrath. " I 
 will tell you what you will do ; you will gamble again 
 in a night or two and win. My dear fellow, it is no 
 use being depressed about it. Sjnlt milk is spilt milk, 
 and it is no use crying over it. What the deuce of 
 a luck to be sure that Gruuebaum had to win ten 
 times running. He will have to wait some time 
 before he does it again. It was a grand night, though ; 
 I would not have missed being j)resent for a good 
 deal. If you are momentarily in want of money, 
 Schmaling, you are welcome to have this couple of 
 hundred pounds which I have won." 
 
 " No, thank you," answered the officer, much touched 
 by the Landrath's kind offer ; " it would be of no use 
 to me." Then crossing the room he went up to him, 
 and shaking his hand warmly, he added, " Good-bye, 
 I must go now, for I have to return to my barracks 
 at Potsdam," and he left the club. 
 
 Tlie Landrath tried to rise, and with some difficulty
 
 130 «»LGA ZANKLI.I. 
 
 succeeded in reacliinji: an arm-chair, into which he let 
 himself drop, for the many drinks he had imlnbed that 
 iii^dit had brought about a certain giddiness, and he 
 did not feel very steady on his legs. 
 
 " This club is going to the deuce," he muttered to 
 himself ; " not a soul remains to wliom one can talk. 
 Why do they want to go to bed so early ? Are they 
 all afraid of tLeir wives ? Thank God, I am still 
 an independent bachelor, and can do as I please I " 
 
 A waiter entered at that moment to put out the 
 lights which were still burning and to make the room 
 look tidy. Then the Landrath of JUterbock, turning 
 round in his arm-chair, began shouting at the waiter 
 for having disturbed him and ordered up another i)Ot 
 of beer.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 137 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ri^HE next day Sydney Gray, Barou Zerbino, and 
 -L some other dijjlomatic colleagues were lunching 
 in the Restaurant des Ambassadeurs seated at a table 
 near the ^vindow, from which they could see everything 
 which passed in the Uuter den Linden. The rooms 
 seemed fuller than usual that day, and every table 
 was occupied. In the further room was the Duke of 
 Bummelberg, wdth two of his sons and several officers. 
 Monsieur Lechef was much occupied going from one 
 table to another to inquire into the wants of his guests 
 and seeing that they were attended to. Most of the 
 persons who had been gambling so high at the Jockey 
 Club were lunching here, and the frequent pop of 
 champagne corks told unmistakably of shattered 
 nerves which required bracing up, or of that depressed 
 feeling which generallv follows a night passed out of 
 bed. 
 
 " What has become of Klinkenstein ? " inquired 
 Sydney Gray of Baron Zerbino. " He said he would 
 lunch with us to-day." 
 
 " I do not know," replied the Baron. " I have not 
 seen him this morning; but I sujipose he stayed up all 
 night, and is now gone to bed. Do you know what 
 took i)lace at the Jockey Club after we left ? " 
 
 " No," said Sydney Gray, " except that some one 1
 
 138 0L(iA /ANKLLI. 
 
 met told inc that lu'urly ovcry one lost, ami that Herr 
 Gruui'banni ivtircd \vith his j)ockets full of money." 
 
 "Just so," answered the Baron. " It seems he won 
 ten games running at ecarte. Tiie Duke lost thousands, 
 and I expect Klinkenstein also lost heavily." 
 
 At that moment Count Klinkenstein entered the 
 restaurant. He was looking very pale and agitated, 
 and seeing Sydney Gray and Baron Zerbino seated at 
 a table he went straight uj) to them. 
 
 " Something awful has happened," he said, " a tele- 
 gram has just been received at the Jockey Club to say 
 that Schmiiling has shot himself." 
 
 The news sjjread in a moment through the restaurant. 
 The Duke rose from his seat, and came to inquire if auy 
 details were known. 
 
 " None," replied Count Klinkenstein. " Tlie tele- 
 gram only says that his servant found him dead in his 
 rooms in the barracks. He must have shot himself 
 almost directly he got back to Potsdam." 
 
 " It is a very unfortunate occurrence," remarked the 
 Duke. " Only two months ago another member of 
 the club committed suicide in consequence of losses at 
 cards. This is most inconvenient. It will give rise to 
 a great deal of scandal, and, as president of the club, I 
 suppose 1 shall have to see that all heavy gambling 
 ceases for a time. Schmiiling has shown very little 
 regard for the feelings of others in shooting himself; 
 he ought to have disappeared and gone to America. 
 This is most annoying — most annoying." Then the 
 Duke returned to his table, and continued his luncheon 
 \v\t\\ excellent aj)petite. 
 
 " Let me have a iM-iindv-and-soda," said Count Klin-
 
 OLGA ZANELLl. 13^ 
 
 kensteiii to Monsieur Leclief, who came to inquire 
 what he would order for hiuch. "I do not feel hungry 
 at present ; I shall order what I want later." 
 
 " This event seems to have upset you a great deal,"^ 
 remarked Sydney Gray to the Count. 
 
 " I have seen a good deal of him since I have been 
 in Berlin/' he replied. '' It was only a few hours ago 
 that we i)arted at the clul). I can hardly realise it." 
 
 "Were his losses so heavy ?" inquired the Baron; 
 " and was there no possibility of his paying ? " 
 
 " I understand that he owed some fifty thousand 
 marks," replied Count Klinkenstein. " I could easily 
 have raised the money for him. It is a horrible 
 business. I assure you, Gray, that it has left such an 
 impression upon me that I do not think I shall ever 
 touch cards again." 
 
 " In that case his death will have done some good," 
 said Sydney Gray. " Do you know whether he had 
 ever promised his family that he would not gamble ? " 
 
 " He had," answered the Count, " for he had twice 
 already been helped out of difiiculties, and I am afraid 
 that is the very reason which has driven him to do 
 away with himself." 
 
 " Such promises are always foolish," remarked 
 Sydney Gray. " The real gambler is always ready 
 to make tliem when in difficulties, j)robably in all 
 sincerity; but directly temptation comes his way he 
 yields to it and forgets his promise." 
 
 The news of this sad event seemed to cast a gloom 
 upon the comjjany, for they had all known Lieutenant 
 von Schmaling well, and so luncheon was finished 
 mostly in silence.
 
 140 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 " I shall take a walk," said Count Klinkenstein, as 
 he loft the restauraut with Sydney Gray; "I feel the 
 need of it. Do you care to come with me ? " 
 
 " I wish I could," he rejdied; " but I have unfortu- 
 nately work to do at the Embassy which will occuj)y 
 me all the afternoon." 
 
 TJiey i)arted, therefore, at the door of Monsieur 
 Lechef's establishment, and Count Klinkenstein, hail- 
 ing a cab, drove to the station and entered the first 
 train which would take liim into the Griinewald, the 
 part of the forest which lies in the immediate vicinity 
 of Berlin. He felt the need of being alone for a time 
 to meditate over the event which had given him such 
 a shock. Lieutenant von Schmiiling had been one of 
 the first acquaintances he had made on his coming to 
 Berlin to join the Gardes du Cori)s, and Count Klin- 
 kenstein could not help shuddering at the thought that 
 had he not had the good fortune of being rich he, toit, 
 might at that moment be dead by his own hands, for 
 he had lost heavily on the jJreWous night as well as on 
 former occasions. It was the first time in his life that 
 he liad been brought face to face with a really tragic 
 occurrence, and it not unnaturally left a deep imjires- 
 aion upon him. 
 
 It was one of those beautiful days in June when the 
 sky is without a cloud, and tlie air, though hot, does 
 not feel o])i)ressive ; the green forest was radiant in the 
 pride of summer ; but the Count was bliiul to all the 
 beauties of nature around him, for he was entirely 
 absorbed in his own thoughts. With a swinging stej) 
 he hurried along, as if the (piick movement gave relief 
 to the violence of his emotions. He walked on and on
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 141 
 
 till, looming through the trees, appeared in the distance 
 the outskirts of Berlin and the huge barrack-like struc- 
 tures, six or seven stories high, in which the artizan 
 classes live. He did not stop till he reached his rooms. 
 A reaction had set in, and the depression under which 
 he had laboured when he started had given way to a 
 feeling that though there might be much which was 
 tragic in this world, yet if we looked at it with a fair 
 mind we might still discover much that was noble and 
 beautiful in it. He lay down on a couch, for he felt 
 tired, and occupying his mind with j^leasanter thoughts 
 he gradually fell asleep. When he woke he saw the 
 gorgeous colours of the setting sun reflected on his 
 ■sviudow-panes, and looking at his watch he found that 
 it was time to go and dine. He strolled down the 
 Unter den Linden, and entered one of the fashionable 
 restaurants where he was likely to meet acquaintances, 
 for Count Klinkenstein was not a man who cared to 
 dine by himself, especially when he had just been 
 ])assing tlirough a fit of depression. He found several 
 brother officers, and had a jileasaut dinner with them, 
 washed down with copious draughts of champagne. 
 Dinner over, the officers announced their intention of 
 finishing the evening at the Jockey Club ; but as Count 
 Klinkenstein felt a disinclination to re-enter the club 
 so soon after the experiences he had just gone through, 
 he said he would take a drive round the Thiergarten 
 and afterwards go to bed early, as he had had l)ut little 
 sleep on the previous night. He entered a cab, and 
 drove down the great avenue which leads to Charlotteu- 
 burg, but he had not proceeded very far before lie 
 noticed Olga Zanelli walking by herself along the foot-
 
 142 <»LOA ZANELLI. 
 
 ]»ath l»y tlic side (»f the rojul. He sto])])('(l tlie cab, paid 
 the fare, and in a moment lie was by her side. 
 
 " How do yon do, Lolo ?*' said tlie Count, takinj^ her 
 arm. 
 
 " Oil, is it you ! " she iH'i»lied, <rivin*r a start, and 
 evidently much sur])rised. 
 
 " Lolo, I hope I am not disturbing your jdaus," 
 continued the Count, walking by her side ; " what 
 brings you out at this hour ? You look quite 
 melancholy, I declare. Can it be that, like the ordinary 
 German maiden, you find it necessary to go into ecstasy 
 over sunsets and rising moons, and that you have 
 come out to sit ou a bench to read Heine's ' Book of 
 Songs,' and to grow sentimental over it ? " 
 
 " I liJive not come out to read," she replied, " but 
 rather to tliink over what is to become of me." 
 
 " What has hajipened, Lolo ? " incpiired the Count, 
 struck by the tone of her voice. 
 
 " I have had a (juarrel vrith my mistress ; ])ractically 
 I have been turned out of the house." 
 
 " But my dear Lolo, this is a very serious matter. 
 AVI 1 at could have brought it about ? " 
 
 " It has been coming for a long time," she answered ; 
 " that is why I tried so hard to get an engagement 
 on the stage. I never liked my mistress, and from 
 the first she hated me. She treated me badly enough 
 before I made your acquaintance, but since then her 
 treatment of me has become simply intolerable. She 
 would have got rid of me long ago ha<l she not felt 
 that I was too good a workwoman to lose. My going 
 out last Sunday with you seems to have irritated her 
 very mncli, and the tension between us eulmiiiated
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 143 
 
 to-day in a scene. She called me all manner of oifen- 
 sive names, and told me to leave her lions e. I obeyed 
 at once." 
 
 " Lolo, what will become of yon now ? " 
 
 " I have no idea," she replied. " I first went to 
 see my mother's brother, Johann Lazarns ; he is a 
 parson, as I think I told yon ; 1 informed him of what 
 had happened ; he said that he did not wish to hear 
 an^-thiug more about me, and closed the door in my 
 face. I left his house Tvdth the intention of throwing- 
 myself into the river, but lost heart, for it seemed so 
 pitiful to have to die so young. I really do not see what 
 else I can do than spend this night in the open air." 
 
 " You are quite mad to talk like this, Lolo," said 
 Count Klinkenstein, becoming really anxious for his 
 fair companion's sake. " You must not do anything 
 so foolish. Is there no one who could take you in 
 for a few days until you are able to obtain some other 
 situation ? " 
 
 " I know of none," she replied. 
 
 Count Klinkenstein was at a loss to know what to 
 suggest. He could give her money, it was true, and 
 send her to an hotel ; but even there she would be 
 unprotected and exposed to many dangers. He could 
 not very well ask her to come to his rooms ; that would 
 be enough to ruin her character for life, and he felt 
 an interest in her and sympathy for her in her present 
 difficulties which prevented him from wishing to do 
 her any harm. He walked on in silence by her side 
 revolving in his mind every conceivable plan, but 
 there seemed to him to be no satisfactory solution of 
 the difficulty.
 
 144 <>u;a zanklli. 
 
 It was a beautil'iil cvcninff, warm and cloudless, 
 witli scarcely a l)reatli ()f wind ; one could just distin- 
 (Tuisli throuffli tlie trees the crescent of the rising 
 moon. To the west over Charlottenburo: the sky had 
 assumed a delicate a|)i)le-green tint such as is not 
 unfr(M|nently tlie case in northern climes when the 
 days are long in summer. Against this faint remain- 
 ing light of a midsummer sunset the stars were hardly 
 visible. Count Klinkenstein and Lolo wandered arm 
 in arm through the winding paths of the Thiergarten, 
 speaking but little to each other, he deeply occuj)ied 
 in seardiing for some means of delivering her from 
 her present difficulties, she tired out with the anxieties 
 and worries of that day, allowing her feelings as a 
 relief tt) yield to the sootliing influence of the calm and 
 beautiful evening. At that late hour there were few 
 passers-by who could disturb tliem in their meditations. 
 
 " We have walked a good deal," remarkecl Lolo to 
 her silent com])ani()n. " Let us sit down awhile : it 
 is such a beautiful evening that we may as well enjoy 
 it quietly." 
 
 They sat down on a bench. Not far olf wi're Kroll's 
 Garden and Summer Opera, and the Count and Lolo 
 could, from where they were seated, occasionally catch 
 the somid of some well-known tune as the doors of 
 the theatre were pushed open by persons entering or 
 going out, and hear mellowed by the distance the 
 more coarsely executed music of the brass band in 
 the garden. 
 
 " I could so enjoy this evening with you," said the 
 Count, '' if I were not worried with anxiety as to wliat 
 will become of von."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 145 
 
 " How strange our destinies are," she remarked ; 
 " they seem to depend so much upon small events, 
 upon unexpected meetings, upon occurrences -which 
 at the time often appear of such little moment. I 
 cannot help thinking to-night how different my 
 position might have been if my father had not died 
 so prematurely. Perhaps at the present moment I 
 might be a famous dancer as he hoped, or an actress 
 on the high road to fortune. All that has been 
 changed by an unforeseen and unexpected death." 
 
 " What will become of you ? " sighed the Count, 
 as he drew himself nearer to her and tried to console 
 her in a timid sort of way. 
 
 " The despondency I felt seems to be passing away," 
 she replied, " and hope seems to be reviving in me. 
 It is foolish in my present position to build castles in 
 the air, but somehow I cannot lielp doing so." 
 
 " What can I do for you ? " asked Count Klinken- 
 stein, getting closer to her and laying his arm on the 
 back of the seat. " Is it not possible for me to realise 
 your hopes ? I would so like to be able to do some- 
 thing for you, Lolo." 
 
 She said nothing, but turning her face towards him 
 she thanked him with a look. The Count was sitting 
 so close to her that in the movement -of turning her 
 head her hair brushed over his face. Their eyes met, 
 and never before had hers seemed to him so limpid 
 and beautiful as that evening in the twilight with the 
 faint rays of the moon shining upon them through 
 the trees. The vicinity of this lovely girl sent a thrill 
 of emotion through CJount Klinkenstein sucli as he 
 had never before experienced, and as generally happens 
 
 VOL. I. lU
 
 146 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 upon sucli occasions he found that words failed to 
 express what he felt at that moment. 
 
 " What are you thinking about ? " he wliispered 
 into her ear. 
 
 "I hardly know what my thoughts are," she replied. 
 " I feel to-night so much that I scarcely understand. 
 It seems so strange to be sitting by your side, with 
 the moon and stars shining above us, and the evening 
 so lovely and still. It is almost like a dream." 
 
 " Why should it be a dream, Lolo ? " said C!ount 
 Klinkenstein, as he took his arm off the back of the 
 seat, and put his hand gently u])on her shoulder. 
 " We are very living and real, there is no mistake 
 about it. Do you know, Lolo, that I would like to 
 be able to sit every evening by your side, as I am 
 doing now ; it would make me so happy if it could 
 only be. I know you will not believe it ; you will 
 say that my words are meaningless i)hrases ; that 
 they are not intended to be taken seriously ; that 
 they have probably been addressed to many other 
 girls before, and that every man who would find 
 himself in my present position would talk in the 
 same manner. Lolo, you are mistaken if you think 
 so. You are more to me than I can tell. If you 
 look unha])i)y, I am miserable ; if I were to see you 
 cry, I think I would go mad. Lolo, I must tell you 
 everything to-nig]it, I cannot keep it hidden any 
 longer. I have been afraid to s])eak till now ; but, 
 IjoIo, I have loved you ])assionately for a long while. 
 J am ready to do everything for you ; I would sacri- 
 fice so much to make you happy. You cannot expect 
 me to do the impossible ; I cannot marry you, for
 
 OLGA ZAKELLI. 147 
 
 you know tlie regulations of the army forbid it, but 
 all I can do I will do. Lolo, will you be my wife 
 in everything but name ? Be mine, and mine alone ; 
 let me feel that I possess you, and that you no 
 longer run the danger of falling into other men's 
 hands. Let me be your friend, your protector, your 
 trae and devoted lover. I will labour to realise your 
 wishes, your dreams, your hopes. Whatever my 
 wealth can procure you you will have. Trust in me ; 
 I will not deceive you. Lolo, can you love me ? 
 can you love me ever so little ? Speak but one 
 word ; say that you can, and I, for my part, will 
 love you for ever and ever, and I swear, by God ! 
 that never woman shall come between our love to 
 trouble it, to break it, or to make us unhappy." 
 
 What answer could she give to such a passionate 
 appeal ? He was a young and handsome officer, and 
 he had been kinder and more attentive to her than 
 any one she had known since her father's death. 
 Why, then, should she not love him ? Was it a crime 
 to do so ? She was destitute, and alone, without 
 friends or relations in the world, and she felt the 
 want of some one whom she could love, on whom 
 she could lean, in whom she could trust. Here was 
 a man to whom she felt attracted, offering to raise 
 her from poverty to wealth, from misery to plenty, 
 from practical slavery to independence and freedom. 
 Why refuse such gifts ? Why turn away from them ? 
 Merely because she was denied the name of wife ! 
 Could she not make that sacrifice in return for all 
 that he offered to do for her. 
 
 Thoughts such as these passed through Lolo'a
 
 148 OLOA ZAXELLI. 
 
 mind at that moment, but on these occasions feelings 
 are stronger than thoughts, and decide our actions. 
 She could not help feeling kindly towards the Count ; 
 he seemed so kind and generous, and his words had 
 such a sincere ring about them. No man had, as 
 yet, tried to awaken love in her, and to whisper such 
 passionate words into lier ear. Lolo's nature was 
 that of the artist which i)alpitates to every emotion ; 
 how could she help being deejdy moved listening in 
 the stillness of the night to the words of love, to 
 the ardent promises that her wishes should be his, 
 that he would devote his life to her service, that he 
 would love her for ever, that he would nurse her 
 in sickness, and that death alone would jtart them ? 
 Who vnW blame Lolo severely for what she did ? 
 How many young girls put into her position would 
 have resisted the charms of the situation and its 
 surroundings ? What could Lolo answer to the 
 Count's pleadings ? She leant back, giving way to 
 her feelings, and said nothing. There are moments 
 when to speak woidd be out of jdace, and when 
 silence is more eloquent than words. 
 
 It almost did seem to them as if it were a dream ; 
 it was so beautiful, so still, so silent ; they were alone, 
 mth no other human creature to watch them. From 
 afar like a distant rumble came the sound of the 
 carriages as they rolled through the Brandenburg 
 Gate. Count Klinkenstein passed his arm round 
 Lolo's waist, and he drew himself closer and closer 
 to her till he could feel her bosom heave. For a 
 time he was restrained by a feeling of timidity ; but 
 soon unable to control himself anv lonjrer, and im-
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 149 
 
 pelled by the desire to possess so beautiful a creature, 
 he seized her in his arms and their lips merged into 
 one long kiss, full of love and passion. At that 
 moment like a p^ean of triumph rose from KroU's 
 summer theatre the stirring notes of Aida's silver 
 trumpets. 
 
 They left the bench on which they were seated, 
 and hailing the first cab they met drove to Count 
 Klinkeustein's rooms. Lolo experienced a feeling of 
 relief that the struggle was over, that the irre- 
 trievable step was taken, that she had given herself 
 for life to the man she had loved for some time 
 though she had tried to delude herself into believing 
 that it was not true. As they drove away there 
 passed again before Lolo's mind the strange ex- 
 periences she had undergone that day : her quarrel 
 with her mistress ; her appeal to her uncle ; her 
 rejection at his door ; then her lonely situation ; the 
 momentary thought she had had of committing 
 suicide ; then the walk in the Thiergarten, with the 
 accidental meeting with the Count, and the strange 
 finish of it all. The door of the house was reached ; 
 the Count handed her out of the cab, then striking 
 a match he entered the house, and going ahead bade 
 her follow. As Lolo ascended the dark staircase 
 she was seized with the same never-to-be-forgotten 
 faintness which she had experienced years ago, when 
 as a little girl she waited in the flies of the Victoria 
 Theatre till the moment came for her to make her 
 debut before the public ; it was a strange feeling, a 
 mixture of terror and joy, of anxiety and confidence, 
 of hope and fear.
 
 150 OLOA ZANKLLI. 
 
 Count Kliiikcnstoin knocked at liis lionr, and his 
 faitliful servant Hans (»])ened it at once. He ordered 
 all the candles in the sconces to be lit ; and, as each of 
 them was enclosed in a delicate rose-coloured pajxT 
 screen, a soft and volu])tuous lisrht filled the room. 
 Lolo had eaten little food that day, so the Count 
 instructed Hans to bring wine, biscuits, and cakes 
 for her, for she felt too tired and excited to touch 
 anything else, and when it was l)rought he told his 
 servant to go and to leave them alone. On his 
 table lay a letter from his sister ; on other occasions 
 he would have hastened to read it, now he left it 
 uno})ened. 
 
 On a divan covered with a soft Persian carpet sat 
 Lolo with her lover at her feet, and resting his head 
 against her knees. Then they told eacli other their 
 tastes, their hopes, their views of life, their ])ast 
 history. 
 
 " You shall liave a house of your own, Lolo," said 
 Count Klinkenstein, "and it will be a great jdeasure 
 to me to fill it with all things beautiful and lovely ; for 
 I will often be there, and you will sing to me those 
 songs which I like so much to listen to, and which 
 first awoke in me the love I have for you." 
 
 " I will sing to you whenever you like," she replied ; 
 " what a pleasure it is to me to know that I have got 
 a means of drawing you to me, and of keej)iug you by 
 my side." 
 
 " You need not fear, Lolo ; my love for you will 
 never change," answered tlie ('ount, as he rose and 
 sat by her side. " You will never re(iuire charms or 
 love poti(»ns to bring me to you."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 151 
 
 " May that be true I " exclaimed Lolo, looking- 
 straight into his eyes, in which sincerity was writ 
 large ; and then she added, " If you prove false there 
 is but one course left open to me." 
 
 " What is it ? " inquired the Count. 
 
 " To kill myself," she replied. 
 
 So far Lolo had succeeded in keeping her feelings 
 under control, but the long struggle had weakened 
 her strength of resistance, and suddenly she felt 
 herself carried away by such a violent rush of emo- 
 tions that the only relief possible was to give vent to 
 everything she felt. She threw her arms round the 
 Count's neck, and sobbing aloud, " I love you, — love 
 you more than I can tell ! " with all the frenzy and 
 passion of an Italian girl, she smothered him with 
 kisses more ardent than he had ever known.
 
 15;^ OLCiA ZANELLl. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE (lay after he had lost all he possessed at the 
 Jockey Club, Coniit Immersdorf was sitting in 
 his room much dei)ressed. He was not a man who was 
 easily disheartened, hut the circumstances in which 
 he now found himself were such as to make the most 
 courageous des])air. He had ])ractically no fixed income, 
 and he had lived of late by betting and gambling, and 
 on occasional presents from his aunt, the Countess 
 Schnitzel, whose husband held a High Court appoint- 
 ment. It was a principle of his never to pay a 
 tradesman as long as he could help doing so, and 
 his unpaid accounts were therefore numerous and 
 large ; but that was a matter of minor im])ortance 
 compared with the fact that he had been reduced to 
 raising money under great disadvantages, and that 
 several of the bills he had signed would fall due in 
 a few days, and that the Jews who had advanced the 
 money were not j)ersons who were likely to be jmt off 
 with fair promises, but would certainly have him 
 declared a bankrujit if tlie money were not forth- 
 coming at tlu' proper time. This would cause a 
 pretty scandal in Berlin society, and he would be 
 comjjelled to retire to some foreign colony, which did 
 not suit his tastes by any means, and to live there
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 15^ 
 
 on the pittance which his family might deio-u to give 
 him. He owed the money-lenders about £5,000 ; not 
 a very large sum j^erhaps, hut still a bigger one 
 than Count Immersdorf could meet. His uncle by 
 marriage, Count Schnitzel, had pulled him out of his 
 difficulties more than once, and Count Immersdorf 
 knew perfectly well that it was useless to apply to 
 him again for assistance ; he had borrowed money 
 also from most of his friends and acquaintances, and 
 as he never paid them back they had already, for 
 a long time past, turned a deaf ear to all further 
 appeals on his part. Herr Schlangenbeck, who had 
 made use of him in more than one questionable racing 
 transaction, and who had helped him out of several of 
 his financial difficulties, had of late had a quarrel with 
 him, not without cause. Herr Schlangenbeck had 
 sent one of his horses to run in a race in England. 
 It was a remarkably good horse ; but as it had 
 judiciously lost every race for which it had run in 
 Germany it arrived in England with a poor reputation, 
 and the odds laid against it were very considerable. 
 Count Immersdorf had been sent to England by his 
 friend with a large sum of money to back this horse ; 
 all went so far well that the horse won the race, but 
 Herr Schlangenbeck's expectations of having made 
 a large sum of money were doomed to a certain 
 amount of disappointment, for the Count, being at that 
 moment in very serious financial difficulties, thought it 
 a good oi)portunity to put himself on his legs again. 
 Instead of taking 25 per cent, of the winnings, as had 
 been agreed between them, Court Immersdorf put half 
 of them into his pocket, and jJi'esented the other half
 
 ir)4 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 to Herr Schlangenbeck on his return to Berlin. As 
 might have been expected, a scene took place between 
 them, as all the explanations Connt Immersdorf 
 deigned to give were that he had been unable to 
 obtain from the bookmakers the odds which aj)peared 
 in the newspapers. 
 
 Count Immersdorf certainly did not suffer from 
 scruples of conscience, and he had therefore assiduously 
 studied the art of palming cards and of turning up the 
 one he desired. It was an art, he thought, which 
 might be useful to him in an evil day ; but he was 
 too shrewd a man to run the risk of losing his social 
 position to make use of such proceedings excei)t in the 
 direst necessity, and so ftir good fortune had enabled 
 him to find some other way out of his difficulties 
 without resorting to cheating at cards. On the ])resent 
 occasion there seemed, however, to be only two courses 
 open to him ; to emigrate to America — an idea which 
 was exceedingly distasteful to him — or to remain in 
 Berlin, and by dexterously helj)ing fortune at cards win 
 at least sufficient to i)ay off the most j)ressing debts 
 and get a new start. To commit suicide as Lieutenant 
 von Sclmiiiling had just done seemed to him the most 
 ludicrous of all endings for a gambler, and a defiance 
 of the gambler's creed that runs of bad luck do not 
 last for ever and that fortune must inevitably change. 
 
 ('ount Immersdorf passed the afternoon occuj)ied 
 with these meditations and unable to make up his 
 mind. At one moment he thought it best to escape 
 to America, and there carve out for himself a new 
 career ; tlien he would recall to mind the pleasant life 
 he led in Berlin, the many attractions of the jdace, the
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 155 
 
 races, tJie club, the theatres, the women, and he felt 
 that he was not strong enough to break away from 
 them so long as he saw a possibility of his remaining 
 there. It was evident, he would argue to himself, that 
 if he took to cheating at cards there was every j)ro- 
 bability that as he was dexterous it would never be 
 discovered ; and, moreover, he only intended to use his 
 talents upon rare occasions, when the stakes were heavy, 
 for he did not think it advisable to have recourse to 
 cheating only to win paltry sums. If it came to the 
 worst and he was discovered, he would of course have 
 to leave the country ; but then he would be in no worse 
 a position than if he had gone to America from the 
 beginning. 
 
 A gentle and timid rap at the outer door of his 
 apartment woke him from his reverie. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " he said, starting up. " I do not 
 expect any one at this hour, and would much rather be 
 left alone. As my servant is out, I suppose I must 
 go myself and see who it is." He hesitated for a 
 moment ; but as the knocking was repeated somewhat 
 louder he boldly went out and oi)ened the door. He 
 found a little man, whose physiognomy at once pro- 
 nounced him to be a Jew, standing on the landing. 
 It was Moses Jacobsohn, the seller of old clothes. 
 
 " What brings you here ? " inquired Count Immers- 
 dorf roughly, very angry at having been disturbed 
 " You had better look sharp, and go away." 
 
 " I am sure that you do not mean what you say," 
 replied the Jew, with a sarcastic smile on his face as 
 he thrust his umbrella between the door so as to pre- 
 vent the Count closing it. " When a man is drowning,
 
 150 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 he does not reject even a straw which is held out to 
 save him. Sup])oso I am tliat straw, would you object 
 to being saved tliroufjh me ? " 
 
 " I do not understand what you mean," rejdied the 
 Count, feelin<r very much annoyed at what he con- 
 sidered the brazen-faced imj)udeuce of tliis intruder. 
 " I advise you to disapjiear quickly, for I feel in the 
 humour to knock you downstairs." 
 
 '' How foolish some men are, to be sure,'' muttered 
 the Jew. " They cannot see who are their friends, and 
 even adversity will not oj)en their eyes. May I ask 
 you, Count, to let me in ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, you confounded blackguard I " 
 shouted Count Immersdorf, seizing the ragged-look- 
 ing little Jew by the arm and thrusting him violently 
 back. 
 
 " You call me names now because 1 have an honest 
 calling," retorted Moses Jacobs* »hn. " You may re])ent 
 of it, (Jount. I am not a swell like you ; but I have 
 some friends, and you have none." 
 
 " How dare you talk to me in this way I " stammered 
 the Count, white with rage. "I shall send for a 
 policeman and have you locked up." 
 
 " They would not come," replied the Jew, laugliing ; 
 " they have other things to do than to jirotect the 
 honour of a man who cannot pay his debts. You 
 are mined. Count, and you know it. You have not 
 got a brass farthing in the world, and yet you give 
 yourself airs as if you were a Kothschild. Be sensible, 
 and let me come in, for this is no suitable ])lace for 
 discussing delicate matters in, and I have an imj)ortant 
 I»ro])Osiil t(» make to you."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 157 
 
 Count Immersdorf was so astonished at the extra- 
 ordinary coolness of this individual that he remained 
 speechless, and felt a sensation of terror creeping over 
 him at the thought that his visitor might have dis- 
 covered something in his career which was disrejKitable, 
 and so placed him in his power, else how could a 
 dirty little Berlin Jew dare to address a gentleman 
 and a count in the language he had used ? The door 
 was ajar, and as the Count did not answer, Moses 
 Jacobsohn pushed it open and boldly walked into 
 the Count's room with his cap on his head. There 
 was nothing left to do but to submit ; besides, a feeling 
 of curiosity to know who the strange little man was 
 and M^hat his errand miglit be seized the Count. He 
 closed the outer door of his apartment and re-entered 
 his rooms. 
 
 " Fellow, what is your name ? " he inquired, as 
 he watched with amazement the little Jew seating 
 himself in one of his arm-chairs. 
 
 " You would like to know my name ? " said the 
 Jew. " I am sure that it will give you but little 
 pleasure to hear it. My dress will tell you that I 
 am not a duke, a count, or a person of noble blood 
 according to your ideas. I am an individual of no 
 consequence ; I am quite humble, lowly, and unknown ; 
 but as you seem to take such an interest in me, I 
 will present myself. I am Moses Jacobsohn, seller 
 of old clothes." 
 
 " Then the sooner you return to your old rags the 
 better it will be. A gentleman's sitting-room is not 
 a suitable place for such as you, with your smell of 
 the alley and the low beershop."
 
 158 ULGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 Moses Jacobsolin rcjdied in the calmest manner 
 jx)ssil>k'. " Count, as your sense of smell is so delicate 
 I will do my best that it may not be ofl'ended. I 
 will try and suftbcate the odour of my clothes. I see 
 there are some cigars on the manteljnece ; with your 
 permission I will take the liberty of smoking one." 
 He rose delil)erately from his seat, and, having selected 
 what he considered the best cigar, he ])r()ceeded to 
 bite off its end and spat it out into the tirei)lace ; then 
 he struck a match and lit it, and returned to his 
 comfortable arm-chair, in which he stretched himself, 
 crossed his legs, and threw his head back as he began 
 with a look of voluptuous contentment to puff rings 
 of smoke into the air, and to watch them rise in ever- 
 extending circles to the ceiling. No one who has not 
 been in Berlin and become aware of the intense hatred 
 wliich exists there between the Jewish community 
 and the rest of the population will be able to under- 
 stand the satisfjiction wliich Moses Jacobsohn felt 
 in worrying and insulting his prey, for he was quite 
 convinced that Count Immersdorf would not be able 
 to resist the temi)tation he was about to lay before 
 him. 
 
 Neither of them spoke for a few minutes : then the 
 Jew, laying his cigar aside for a time, addressed the 
 Count as follows, — 
 
 " My dear Count, you must think it very strange 
 of me to walk into your room without any introduc- 
 tion, to sit in your comfortable arm-chair, and to smoke 
 your best cigar. You can see that 1 am a sane 
 person, and I flatter myself that I am no fool ; yon 
 mav therefore infer that if I venture to take liberties,
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 159 
 
 as I confess I know I am doing, it is o'^dng to the 
 fact that you are no longer in a position to kick me 
 out. We are equals, do you see ? Nay, do not get 
 angry. My dear fellow, before I leave I hope to have 
 brought you to my way of thinking. Well, I repeat 
 it, we two at present are very much on the same 
 footing in this world. You have the barren title of 
 count and no cash ; I am but a vendor of old rags, 
 but I have a little money. The one position, it seems 
 to me, balances the other. You agree then, we are 
 equals." 
 
 " I do nothing of the sort," snarled the Count. " I 
 should like to be informed as to what you know about 
 my affairs. You are an ignorant, vulgar scamp. If 
 you have only come here to make offensive remarks, 
 there is the door ; I advise you not to wait till my 
 servant returns, for you will then surely receive the 
 biggest hiding that was ever administered to human 
 creature.*' 
 
 " I am not afraid of your servant," answered Moses 
 Jacobsohu, with a hideous grin ; "he is an excellent 
 friend of mine, and he will not return for some hours. 
 Do you sujjpose I would have come up here if I had 
 not known that you were alone ? What I have come 
 to say is for your ears, and not for other people to 
 listen to." 
 
 "Are you a fiend?" exclaimed Count Immersdorf, 
 retiring towards the door, so as to be as far away as 
 possible from his uncanny visitor. 
 
 " You need not be alarmed, Count," replied the Jew, 
 with evident satisfaction at the Count's uneasiness. 
 " You ask me what 1 may know about your affairs. I
 
 100 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 will tell yon, Count. Yon liave no sources of revenue, 
 no prospects of inheritintr anything, no occu])ation 
 "whereby you could earn an lionest livelihood, no power 
 of borroAN-ing anytliing more. Last night you lost all 
 that remained to you gambling at the Jockey Club ; 
 a very agreeable occupation, no doubt, for an idle, 
 impecunious man. Then there are the following bills 
 out against you." Here Moses Jacobsohn took a piece 
 of paper out of his pocket and began consulting it. 
 '' £500 owing to Aaron Levy, due in three days ; £400 
 owing to Rafael Goldschmit, due in six weeks ; £800 
 owing to Judas Cohen, due in a month ; £200 borrowed 
 last week from Jacob Birnbaum, and to be repaid in 
 a few days. There are several more which I know 
 of. Shall I read them all out to you ? Total owing, 
 so far as I know, £3,850, in return for £2,950 actually 
 advanced to you. My dear Count, you know as well as 
 I do, that you are neither in a position to pay the 
 larger nor even the smaller of the above sums. Are 
 you convinced now that I know something about your 
 affairs ? " 
 
 '' Who told you all this ? " in(|uired Count Immers- 
 dorf, very angry that his private affairs should be so 
 well known to a dealer in old rags. " If you have 
 bought up all the bills which are out against me, I 
 can assure you at once that you have made a very 
 bad bargain, and that I have no intention of i)a>ing 
 a single penny of what I owe ; and if you choose to 
 make it impossible for me to remain in Berlin you 
 had better understand at once that I will leave for 
 America with all the i)Ossible cash I can raise, and I 
 shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I have at
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 161 
 
 least succeeded in cheating you, impudent scamp of a 
 Jew, of your money." 
 
 " Go on, my dear Count," replied the Jew ; " give 
 relief to your feelings by letting forth a stream of 
 backguard language and insult ; I do not mind it ; it 
 does me no harm. You think I have bought your 
 wretched bills ? How foolish of you to suppose that 
 I would give myself the trouble to knock at the door 
 of a beggar. You are astonished that I am so well 
 informed about your private affairs, but amongst us 
 Jews there exists a solidarity which you Christians 
 lack ; we help each other in every possible way, and 
 we are therefore strong and influential though our 
 numbers are small ; but you Christians fight and 
 quarrel amongst yourselves, and do your best to 
 cheat each other, so you grow weak and have to bow 
 before us." 
 
 " If you have come to give me a lecture," shouted 
 the Count, in reply, " you have come to the wrong 
 place. I shall continue to gamble and to borrow money 
 as long as I can, and in spite of all your solidarity of 
 which you boast, nothing will ever change my opinion 
 that you Jews are the most despicable and offensive 
 creatures in this world." 
 
 For a time Moses Jacobsohn answered nothing, but 
 continued to puff his rings of smoke into the air ; then, 
 after contemplating the Count attentively for a few 
 minutes, he said, — 
 
 " You judge yourself rightly. Count ; you will con- 
 tinue to be a gambler, and I fancy a reckless one, to 
 the end of your life. You will also periodically fall 
 into money difficulties such as you find yourself in 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 162 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 now ; but wliat, under those circumstances, you will 
 not always find is a man who vnU come to you uncalled 
 for, and who will offer yon a reasonable plan by which 
 you may extricate yourself from your unpleasant 
 situation." 
 
 " Sir,*' replied Count Immersdorf, in a tone which 
 sounded almost civil, " if the object of your visit is to 
 propose to advance me money I shall certainly feel 
 myself under ia, very great obligation to you. As you 
 seem to know everything about me, it is no use my 
 hiding from you that I am for the moment in very 
 great pecuniary difficulties. I am pre]»ared to sign 
 any bill you like. I know that I will have to make 
 considerable sacrifices. Sir, please mention your 
 terms." 
 
 A sardonic smile passed over the Jew's face as he 
 listened to the Count. " You were born shrewd enough, 
 my dear Count ; I can read it on your face ; but truly 
 gambling has blunted your wits. Do you suppose 
 that I am so foolish as to give myself the trouble to 
 come here to lend you money when I know that you 
 are unable to meet your outstanding liabilities ? Moses 
 Jacobsohn's principles are those of our ruler. Prince 
 Bismarck. Do ut des is my motto. Give me or 
 do something which I want, and I will find yon the 
 money.'' 
 
 *' How the deuce is a maa to understand what you 
 mean if you speak in riddles I " said the Count, evidently 
 irritated at the disappointment of the hope which the 
 Jew's language had for a moment raised in him that 
 he was going to be ofiered a loan even at an exorbitant 
 interest.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 163 
 
 " Count, I am a philosopher," answered Moses 
 Jacobsohn, throwing himself back in his chair ; " I 
 have studied men and things, and I have noticed that 
 in a comj^lex society such as exists in civilised 
 countries, the higher a man's social position is the 
 more cowardly does he become. Nay, my dear Count, 
 be quiet ; do not think that I am making these 
 remarks as a personal accusation against yourself : I 
 am not talking of physical cowardice ; I know well 
 enough that you aristocrats make brave officers, and 
 that you will let yourselves be killed out of foolish 
 vanity. I was not born a Hercules, as you see, and 
 therefore I have but little regard for the bravery 
 which comes of a strong fist, or merely from stolid 
 stupidity. What the upper classes are lacking in is 
 moral courage ; they are so much under the influence 
 of the customs, habits, traditions, and prejudices of 
 their class that they dare not offend these ; besides, 
 they have developed such a passionate longing for 
 ease, comforts, and luxuries that rather than do with- 
 out them they are prepared, especially if the world is 
 ignorant of it, to step over, to a certain extent, the 
 arbitrary boundary which jurists have erected between 
 the things which may be done with honour and those 
 which are forbidden under threat of punishment. The 
 philosopher laughs at such dividing lines ; he can 
 conceive the two extremities of possible actions ; they 
 are like the ends of a chain, palpable and visible, but 
 he denies the right of any one to draw a fanciful line 
 dividing them. Why should the division be more 
 on one side than the other? Can the eye detect a 
 difference in the value of the links ? No ; all we can
 
 1G4 OLGA ZANKLU. 
 
 say is, that the one link ajipears to he nearer to one 
 end than to the other." , 
 
 " All you are saying now is merely talk, and has 
 no practical value," replied the Count. " You said 
 that if I did something for you, you would procure me 
 money. I should like to know what it is." 
 
 " The mere mention of the word money makes you 
 run after it as if you were a fish and saw an attractive 
 bait. Count, you must have a little patience. I will 
 tell you all in due time. You agree with me, then, 
 that in the uj)per classes this moral cowardice exists : 
 let us unite and work this golden mine ; the profits 
 will be great, and all the capital we require is a little 
 determination and a little courage." 
 
 " "Why do you beat about the bush in this irritating 
 manner ? " asked the Count. " Tell me in plain 
 language what you want done. For my part, I do 
 not see how money is to be made out of other ])eople's 
 cowardice, unless you expect me to turn highwayman, 
 and to stop men and women on the high road by 
 presenting a loaded pistol at their heads and demand- 
 ing their ])urses. I am not yet reduced to becoming 
 an assassin or a thief." 
 
 " You will not become an assassin ? You decline 
 to become a thief?" exclaimed Moses Jacobsohn. 
 " AVho required of you that you should ? Why must 
 you j)ervert the meaning of what I say ? I talk to 
 you in a figurative sense, but you understand every- 
 thing in a concrete one. Discharge firearms at ])eople I 
 Madness ! But you can jiresent a jtistol at a person's 
 head loaded with a more deadly charge than powder 
 and ball, and wliich is more elfectivc thoiigli it makes
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 165 
 
 no noise. To handle this weapon is dangerous, 
 and requires some courage. Have j^ou got it, 
 Count ? That is what I want to be assured of before 
 I proceed." 
 
 " You doubt my courage ? " cried the Count, his 
 face growing flushed at the idea that an imjmdent 
 little Jew should have doubts upon the subject. " I 
 have been an officer in the army ; I went through 
 the French war, I have fought my duels, and no one 
 ever dared to say that I have flinched." 
 
 " Count, the eyes of the world were on you then ; 
 you could not do otherwise. I would not give that 
 for such bravery," and the Jew snai)ped his fingers 
 as he said it ; then rising from his seat he walked 
 straight up to Count Immersdorf, and looking him 
 in the face, inquired, " Would you cheat at cards, 
 Count ? " 
 
 The Count staggered back astounded at the abrupt- 
 ness of the question, and stammered something in 
 reply which was inaudible. With intense interest 
 Moses Jacobsohn watched the effect which his question 
 produced, and with that keen instinct he possessed 
 of reading men's characters he saw at once where 
 lay the weak point in the Count's armour. 
 
 " Count Immersdorf," he continued, " perhaps you 
 have not as yet cheated at cards ; but you cannot deny 
 that in your financial distress the idea of doing so 
 has occurred to you." 
 
 " Thoughts are not deeds," replied the Count, very 
 confused and red in the face. " You have no business 
 to make insinuations like this." 
 
 " I do not blame you for your thoughts," said the
 
 1C6 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 Jew ; " wlien we fall into distress it would be foolish 
 to be too s(iueamish as to the means which we may 
 have to emj)loy to get out of it. Every man has a 
 right to help liimself best he can. What I want to 
 know is whether you have got the courage to cheat 
 at cards in an emergency, for if you have you are 
 the man I want ; you will then not shrink from doing 
 what I exjjcct of you." 
 
 " Tell me quickly what you expect of me, for I 
 am getting tired of this long interview.'' Then Count 
 Immersdorf began walking uj) and down his room 
 with his hands behind liis back, evidently much 
 agitated. He continued doing this for several minutes, 
 then suddenly turning round he shouted at his ^^sitor, 
 "Jew, give me money, and I am prepared to do a 
 great deal for you." 
 
 " That is right," replied Moses Jacobsohn, with 
 delight, for now he felt sure of the success of his 
 mission. " I knew we would agree. I will not ask 
 you to cheat at cards ; I will not expect you to do 
 anything mean ; be easy on that }>oint. Our opera- 
 tions shall be noble. Ever}- day men commit sins 
 which the law cannot reach, and they escape un- 
 punished ; but we shall hunt out these crimes ; we 
 shall pursue their authors ; we shall levy a fine upon 
 them, and the fine which we shall levy will be our 
 reward." 
 
 " Are we to become detectives ? " ini[nired the 
 Count, somewhat astonislied. " I never heard that it 
 was a profitable i)rofession." 
 
 "You do not understand what I mean," rejjlied the 
 Jew. " Before I ex])lain it to you in clearer words
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 167 
 
 give me your word of honour that what passes between 
 us you will never divulge to any one else." 
 
 " I do," answered Count Immersdorf, without any 
 hesitation, for he was getting exceedingly interested 
 in the Jew's proposal. 
 
 " I will trust in you, then," said Moses Jacobsohn ; 
 " sit down, Count, and I will tell you my plan. 
 Accept it or reject it, as you please ; but if you reject 
 it you have promised never to breathe word to any 
 man that I have made you this proposal. Remember 
 that if you break your word there are men who will 
 revenge me. I will now explain. I assume to start 
 with that in the upper circles, especially in that 
 narrow clique which we call Court Society, many 
 things are done which, if their existence were only 
 known to the world, j^nblic ojjinion would strongly 
 condemn. I believe I am not far wrong in supposing 
 that there may be persons of high position even guilty 
 of such dark deeds that, were they only suspected of 
 having committed them, they would be at once hooted 
 and driven out of society. Why should these men 
 and women be allowed to draw a veil over their past ? 
 I say, let us prick holes through the veil and spy the 
 skeleton it covers. Such a discovery has a money 
 value, for here comes into play what I explained to 
 you before, the moral cowardice of the upper classes. 
 Who will not pay rather than be exposed ? Who will 
 not prefer to lose a few hundred or even a few thousand 
 pounds rather than be deprived of the charm of 
 retiring to bed at night with the esteem of the world 
 ringing in his ears ? Do you see, Count, what I 
 expept of you ? You are well acquainted with society ;
 
 168 OLtiA ZANKLLI. 
 
 you have relations with the great world ; yon must 
 hear and know much. It is your knowledge I want ; 
 you must be the key which will open the t'U])board, 
 and which will enable us to threaten to let out the 
 skeleton unless we are paid to keep silence. I have 
 no ])ity for persons who commit evil actions, and are 
 afraid of facing the conse(piences of their acts. What 
 a golden harvest lies before us if we will only work 
 this business well I " 
 
 " It is a hazardous game to play," remarked Count 
 Immersdorf. " In plain language, you propose that 
 we should blackmail society. Well, I have no objec- 
 tion to the idea in theory, and it undoubtedly ])romises 
 to be a very j)rofitable business ; but before I engage 
 myself, I must see clearly that the danger run is not 
 excessive. You have as yet tokl me no details of 
 your scheme. I do not know whether you have 
 thought them over. What will you do for assistance 
 supposing one of the first i)ersons you try and black- 
 mail declines to pay, and puts the detectives on our 
 track ? " 
 
 " My dear Count," rei)lied the Jew, " do not imagine 
 that I have laid a crude project before you. I have 
 thought over most of the difficulties which we may 
 have to encounter, and I feel certain that we will run 
 but little risk. Yon cite the case of a man refusing 
 to i)ay ; I do not believe that such a case need arise, 
 and I will tell you why. We shall not drive a man 
 to desperation ; we shall never ask so large a sum in 
 return for the service we render in keeping silence 
 as to make it jwssible for our ^^ctim to hesitate for 
 a moment between the disadvantage of paying or of
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 16^ 
 
 being ex])Osed. Before we send in our demands tO' 
 any one we must first carefully consider the state 
 of Ms purse, his character, his weaknesses, his ambi- 
 tions, the realisation of which might be jeopardised 
 by our exposure. If we take all these points into 
 consideration the money will be paid without a 
 murmur. Count, I look to you for the necessary 
 information. Will you give it ? Your duty will be 
 to make a list of the victims, and to note down the 
 amount which you think they are able to pay. The 
 threatening letters will be composed by us two ; others, 
 whose names you need never know, and with whom 
 you need never come into contact, will run the danger 
 of collecting the money. Half we gain I shall bring 
 to you as your share. Are you satisfied with the 
 terms ? " 
 
 Count Immersdorf had been leaning on the table, 
 listening with intense interest to the Jew's words, and 
 when he ceased speaking he buried his head in his 
 hands for a few minutes to think over his answer. It 
 was a critical moment in his life ; he was a ruined 
 man, and now he was offered the choice between 
 honesty and poverty in a distant country, or, by the 
 commitment of a disreputable action, the possibility 
 of remaining in Berlin, among his friends and ac- 
 quaintances, in comfort and ease. The temptation 
 was great ; after all, what he was asked to do did not 
 expose him to very much danger ; it was safer than 
 cheating at cards, and, in his opinion, far less dis- 
 reputable, for he argued to himself that if an individual 
 commits an action of which he is justly ashamed,, 
 he deserves to be jnmished. Then why should his
 
 170 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 punishmeut not take a form advantageous to oneself? 
 His thonghts wandered back to the Jockey Chib ; to 
 the exciting nights he had passed there round the 
 gambling tables ; to the ups and downs of fortune 
 he had known ; to the pleasant afternoons spent on 
 the racecourse at Hoppegarten. The Jockey Club was 
 to him as the candle is to the moth ; the fascination 
 of the place, and of the life he led there, was so strong 
 for him that he felt himself unable to break away 
 from it as long as there was a possibility of his not 
 doing so. He raised his heixd, and, addressing Moses 
 Jacobsohn with a perfectly calm voice, he said. " I am 
 ready to do what you want." 
 
 " Count, I knew you would accept my i)roposal8," 
 replied the Jew ; " you are no fool, that one can see. 
 As time is getting short we had better i)roceed to 
 "business at once. Tell me the names and tlie crimes 
 of some of our swell people, and fix the price of our 
 silence." He drew out a i)Ocket-lK)ok, and, ])encil in 
 hand, waited attentively for the names wliich the 
 Count was about to mention. 
 
 " How many do you require ? " 
 
 "I should think three would be sufficient for our 
 first trial," answered the Jew. 
 
 " Very good," replied the Count ; " then the first 
 name I would suggest would be that of Prince 
 Zakuski. He holds a high position now, and no one 
 suspects him of having ever done anything dishonour- 
 able in his life ; yet there is a blot on his fair name 
 which few know of besides myself. He is very rich ; 
 he could easily ])ay £2,000." 
 
 Count Immersdorf went u}) to a small sate wliich
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 171 
 
 was let into the wall, and opened it with a key which 
 he carried attached to his watch-chain. Inside there 
 were rows of shelves packed with innumerable letters, 
 papers, and documents neatly arranged in packets 
 bound with red tape. He took down one of the 
 packets, and, pulling out a letter from it, said to the 
 Jew, — 
 
 " There was a time when Prince Zakuski was a 
 comparatively poor man ; that was before the occur- 
 rence of that fortunate accident for him when his 
 cousin, the head of the house, tumbled one day off 
 his horse while drunk and broke his neck. He then 
 succeeded to the large family estates in Silesia and 
 Posen, and became an important person and a pillar 
 of the State. Many years ago we were at Nice 
 together ; he was then an impecunious person, with 
 little chance of ever becoming a prince, for his cousin 
 was young and had the intention of getting married. 
 I used to see a good deal of him in those days, for we 
 were both honorary members of the ' Cercle,' He had 
 lost heavily at cards, and was practically ruined. 
 One night he was caught cheating at cards. The 
 persons who saw him do it said nothing at the time, 
 but reported his conduct to the committee, who, 
 to avoid the scandal of expelling him, wrote to me 
 this letter which I hold in my hand, in which they 
 begged me as his friend to inform him privately that 
 he must absent himself in future from the precincts 
 of the club. I reluctantly undertook this painful 
 duty ; he was not even aware that he had been 
 discovered, so you may imagine into what a state he 
 was thrown by the message I brought him. He
 
 172 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 talked wildly about killing himself, for his honour 
 was gone, and he had no money. As we sat together 
 a servant brought him a telegram. He opened it, 
 gave a scream, and fell to the ground in a dead faint. 
 I j)icked up the itaj)er, and read this message from the 
 solicitor of the family : ' Your cousin fell off his 
 horse yesterday, and ex])ired a few moments after. 
 You succeed to the family estates and to the title. 
 1 await your instructions.' When he recovered he 
 threw liimself on his knees and begged me never to 
 breathe a word of what he had been driven to do 
 in a moment of desperation. I promised, but times 
 change. "We cannot read the future ; now I am poor 
 and he is rich. Let him })ay therefore to jtrevent me 
 doing what he did." 
 
 " That man will make no difficulties," remarked 
 the Jew ; " but it seems to me you let him off very 
 easily at £L^000." 
 
 The Count did not answer ; but, seating himself at 
 his writing-table, drafted the following letter : — 
 
 " Your Serene Highness will no doubt remember 
 an event w'hich occurred many years ago at the ' C'ercle ' 
 at Nice. It is my ])ainful duty to have to recall it to 
 your memory. I was a member of the committee 
 which decided that it was satisfactorily proved that 
 you had cheated at cards. The written evidence 
 which was tendered is in my j)Ossession. Since those 
 days I have f\illen into poverty and you have become 
 rich. I grieve to say that 1 see myself compelled 
 to ai>j)eal to yon for hel]). I must ask you to send 
 to the i)erson, whose name and address you will find
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 173 
 
 written on a separate piece of paper, the sum of 
 £2,000. As perhaps yon may be inclined to reject 
 my reqnest, thongh I feel certain that yonr kindness 
 of heart will not allow yon to do so, I think it neces- 
 sary to inform yon that if the money is not paid within 
 a reasonable time or any attempt made to pnt the 
 police to discover who I am, I will pnblish the docu- 
 ments I possess in some French newspaper. It is 
 always a satisfaction to ns in France to see a German 
 of yonr Serene Highness's rank and position held up 
 to pnblic contempt and ridicule." 
 
 " That will do," said the Jew, taking the draft and 
 folding it up. " I will get it copied out and sent. 
 Let us now proceed to our next subject. What do 
 you say to blackmailing the Prefect of Police ? There 
 are so many scandalous stories current al)ont him that 
 if yon happen to know anything particularly disreput- 
 able about him we ought to be able to raise a little 
 money as the price of our silence, especially as at 
 this moment he has the intention of marrying the 
 rich widow of a merchant. The idea of mulcting the 
 Prefect of Police amuses me very much." 
 
 " I am acquainted with one episode in his life," 
 replied the Count, " which is not much to his credit, 
 and which would make the public laugh if they heard 
 of it. When the Emperor was shot at some years 
 ago there was much comment in the press at the 
 absence of the Prefect of Police from Berlin at that 
 moment. On inquiry it proved that he was in London 
 on leave of absence, but no satisfactory explanation 
 was ever given as to what had taken him to that
 
 174 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 city at so inoj)portnne a moment. I gave myself the 
 troulile to unravel the mystery, which turned out 
 vnlfrar enough. The Prefect had taken a fancy to 
 an English girl, who had been performing for some 
 time at Renz's Circus ; lie became so infatuated with 
 her that he followed her to London, where he spent 
 a very pleasant fortnight in her comj)any. While 
 abandoning himself to her embraces he received the 
 news of the attempt on the Emperor's life ; he hurried 
 back to Berlin, but the mischief was done which due 
 vigilance might have avoided. The world was in- 
 formed that the Prefect had been to Loudon to study 
 the English police system. I came across that girl 
 during one of my journeys to England, and she told 
 me of her adventure with the Prefect, and without 
 a scrujile sold me his letters to her. They are funny 
 reading, I assure you, written as they are in a mixture 
 of German and bad English, with here and there 
 foolish verses expressive of his undying love for her, 
 with frequent promises of money and jewellery, and 
 interlarded with suggestions of the most depraved 
 immorality. The bundle of letters is in that cup- 
 board ; we can threaten to send them to Rochefort's 
 Intransigeant. I can imagine what pleasure he would 
 take in serving them uj) with caustic comments of 
 his own." 
 
 " Draft the letter," said the Jew, laconically. " "We 
 have no time to lose. What do you think he is 
 worth ? " 
 
 " He is not rich, but I should say that he would 
 willingly part with .£500 to esca])e the ridicule to 
 which he would be exposed if these letters were
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 175 
 
 published." The Count took up his pen again, and 
 wrote as follows : — 
 
 " Daeling Old Goose, — 
 
 " Have you quite forgotten me ? There was a 
 time when I did not find it necessary to ask you for 
 anything, but now it is a long while since j^ou have 
 written to me or sent me anything. I suppose you no 
 longer care for me, but that is no reason for forgetting 
 one's old friends. I happen to be in want of some 
 money, darling, so I must apply to you for it. Please 
 pay the man who writes this letter for me the sum 
 of £500, or I will see myself compelled to sell the 
 letters you wrote to me. A friend of mine tells me 
 that there is a Frenchman of the name of Rochefort 
 who would willingly give a large price for them. He 
 edits a newspaper, and says funny things in it. I hope 
 my little request does not j^ut you out in any way, but 
 silk stockings and petticoats are so expensive, and you 
 know you gave me a taste for wearing them. "Will 
 you be surprised at hearing from me ? I never forget 
 my friends, though you seem to have quite forgotten 
 your old love, 
 
 "CoEUR d'Oe." 
 
 The Jew took the draft, cast an approving glance at 
 it, and then j^laced it in his pocket-book. Turning to 
 the Count, he said : " Now one more will do, if the 
 redeeming price is good. Eack your brains. Count, and 
 make another good selection." 
 
 Count Immersdorf did not answer at once, but 
 began again to pace his room in a state of great mental
 
 170 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 agitation. " It must be done ! " he exclaimed, stop- 
 ping snddenly. " Away with scruj)les ; we cannot be 
 choosers once we embark upon this sort of business." 
 
 " "Who is it to be this time? " inquired the Jew, quite 
 indifferent to the Count's agitation. 
 
 '* My aunt, the Countess Schnitzel," replied Count 
 Immorsdorf. 
 
 " Indeed ! That is a sui-prise. What has the good 
 lady done ? " 
 
 " Nothing serious," rejJied the Count ; " but she is 
 foolish, enthusiastic, mad about music and musicians. 
 She has lately shown a great i)redilection fc^r an imjiostor 
 of a creature who wears long hair, and thumps upon 
 the piano. I have seen her in a moment of enthusiasm 
 kiss that man after he had been playing a i)iece on the 
 piano with more than usual dash. I do not believe 
 matters have gone further than that, but it is no 
 reason why we should not threaten to expose her 
 criminal intimacy with this man to her husband. I 
 know her well ; she will do anything to avoid a 
 scandal, and her general conduct has been sufficiently 
 foolish and unguarded to give an appearance of truth 
 to the statement that the musician is her lover. She 
 certainly will not show the letter to her husband, and I 
 think it more than j)robable that she may consult me 
 as to what she should do. I will give her good advice. 
 She has lately come in for some money, so we will put 
 her ransom at £2,000." 
 
 The Count drafted the letter to the Countess 
 Schnitzel, and handed it to the Jew. 
 
 " We have done excellent work this afternoon," 
 remarked Moses Jacobsohu, as he closed his i)0cket-
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 177 
 
 book and replaced it into his breast pocket. " In a 
 few days I hope to have collected the money ; I shall 
 bring yon your share withont fail, and when I come 
 with it I ho])e, Connt, that yon will receive me with 
 your usual civility, and not forget to offer me again 
 one of your excellent cigars. Good-bye for the 
 present." Then Moses Jacobsohn shuffled out of the 
 room. 
 
 Count Immersdorf retired into his bedroom, and 
 having dressed himself very smartly went out. With 
 a jaunty air he took a stroll down the Unter den 
 Linden eyeing the women, and greeting his acquaint- 
 ances in a jovial manner as if he was on the best of 
 terms with the world, for he felt certain that he had 
 again succeeded in saving himself from immment 
 shipwreck. 
 
 12
 
 178 OLfiA ZANKI.LI. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ^T^HE Countess Schnitzel was a lady of (juite forty 
 -^ years of age ; her husband, a most worthy man, 
 held a high and responsible post at court, V)ut un- 
 fortunately his age was nearly double that of his wife. 
 His friends assured you that lie possessed every virtue, 
 but, all the same, he was liardly the man a lady would 
 select as an agreeable life companion, for the Count 
 did not know what it was to be frivolous, and even 
 when he declared himself highly amused he never 
 laughed, but merely indulged in a severe smile. 
 Nature had not been very lavish of her favours on the 
 Countess ; she was anything but good-looking ; her 
 face was thin, scored with lines, and of that type 
 which belongs to the nervous and excitable woman ; 
 she had very protruding teeth, which produced a far 
 from pleasing effect, and she was small in stature, 
 with a figure which was commonplace, not to say 
 ungraceful. Though the Countess was therefore 
 unal)le to shine in society as a beauty, yet, in spite of 
 all these drawbacks, she had succeeded in ac(piiring 
 a distinct jjosition in the Court Society of Berlin, and 
 to surround herself with a large circle of admirers 
 tiirough what her friends were })leased to call her 
 brilliancy of intellect. That the Countess loved her 
 husl)aiid it would have been difficult to believe, con-
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 179 
 
 sidering their difference of age and character, for the 
 Count was a prosy old gentleman, without a particle 
 of enthusiasm or poetry in himself, whereas the 
 Countess was, what is called in German, schwiir- 
 merisk, and in French, exaltce ; he disliked going 
 out into society, while she was fond of it ; and 
 he possessed one great virtue — immense common 
 sense, whereas she was absolutely destitute of that 
 quality ; but as the Count allowed her to do pretty well 
 what she pleased, so long as he was left in peace, and 
 allowed to retire to bed at an early hour, instead of 
 being compelled to remain in the drawing-room to 
 entertain her guests till the early hours of morning, 
 they managed to live together fairly happily, and 
 without quarrelling. The Countess looked up to her 
 husband as she would have done to her parents, or to 
 her guardians ; and he, on his part, treated her more 
 like a daughter than a wife ; and he had never at- 
 temjited to disturb the Countess's illusions by making 
 her the mother of a child. It is almost a law of 
 nature that if a woman of imagination is not blessed 
 with children she will certainly try to forget her loss 
 by selecting some other object on which to vent her 
 affections. Under the circumstances some ladies have 
 been known to take to religious devotions, others to 
 spiritualism, or kindred occult sciences ; some more 
 simple minded ones have even been known to take to 
 dogs and cats. The Countess Schnitzel had selected 
 Wagner's music as her craze, and very soon this craze 
 developed into a blind, unreasoning admiration and 
 passion for the composer and everything which came 
 from him. He was always spoken of as the Master,
 
 180 OLGA ZAKELLl. 
 
 as if he were the saviour of mankind, and liis portrait 
 
 was hung up in a recess of her boudoir with a prie- 
 
 dieu in front of it, so that the room had (juite the 
 
 appearance of being an orator}-. Though the Countess 
 
 was not lacking in intelligence, she was still an 
 
 exceedingly foolish woman. Any one who dared to 
 
 criticise her idol's life or his works, or who declined 
 
 to accept either as absolutely without blemish, was 
 
 looked upon by her with tlie same kind of aversion 
 
 that a bigoted Ultramontane Roman Catliolic would 
 
 look upon a heretic. Her salon naturally became the 
 
 rendezvous of all the fanatical admirers of Wagner. 
 
 There of an evening one would see the rooms crowded 
 
 with long-haired, s])ectacled creatures : i)oliticians, 
 
 litterateurs, journalists, poets, pianoforte players, and 
 
 musicians, some good, mostly indifferent. Nor must 
 
 one forget to mention many young men who wished 
 
 to get into society, and who therefore made it their 
 
 business to flatter the Countess, and for whom she 
 
 in return felt a more than motherly solicitude. It 
 
 mattered little to the Countess what a man's views 
 
 might be, whether Conservative or Radical, whether 
 
 those of a bigoted Churchman or of an atheist, 
 
 whether he was moral or immoral in his life, her 
 
 doors were thrown o])en to all ])rovided they accepted 
 
 the Wagnerian creed, and were ready to burn incense 
 
 at the shrine of the Master. Surrounded as she was 
 
 by such men, who, j)leased at finding a fashionable 
 
 house where they could meet, were not niggardly iu 
 
 their ])raises of tlie hostess, she allowed herself the 
 
 ])leasant illusion that she was throning like a queen 
 
 over the intellectual world. On the evenings she
 
 OLGA ZANELLl. 181 
 
 received com})aiiy it was her delight to lie on a soft 
 couch surrounded by her admirers, and to listen from 
 time to time in the intervals of conversation to frag- 
 ments of Wagner's operas played on the piano by one 
 of her proteges, or if she felt in the humour for it 
 she would start a discussion on the meaning of some 
 " Leitmotiv,'' or listen while she assumed an amorous 
 and languishing air to some professor explaining the 
 mystical loves of Tristram and Isolt, or developing 
 some inane theory about the relation of colours to music, 
 or else the conversation would revert to the inevitable 
 Schopenhauer, and the company would discuss learnedly 
 about his philosophy, though few of them had so far 
 found the time to read his works. In rooms luxuri- 
 ously furnished with Eastern carpets and hangings, 
 where bric-ivbrac of inestimable value was strewn on 
 the tables and brackets, or locked up in delicately 
 inlaid cabinets, where the atmosphere had the ener- 
 vating warmth of the air in a hot-house and seemed 
 to be laden with perfumes, the Countess, and those 
 who cared to be in her good graces, posed as pessimists 
 and persons for whom the world was out of joint, 
 and with the conceit of the true Wagnerian thanked 
 God that they were not as other men, barbarians and 
 ignorant persons, but that they were capable of soaring 
 into the regions of the supreme j^hilosophy. 
 
 The chief of the Countess's musical -proteges at 
 this time was a young man of unhealthy appearance, 
 and who wore his hair exceedingly long, which is 
 considered in Germany to be the outward and visible 
 sign that a person poses as an artist. When in society 
 he would put on a dreamy and far-off look so that
 
 ISti OLfJA ZANKLLI. 
 
 his neigliLonrs might l)e k>d to believe that he wa8 
 contemj)hi.ting visions which were denied to more com- 
 monplace individuals. He was known by the name 
 of Albertus Magnns ; but as a matter of fact he was 
 born in Scotland, and his real name was Albert John 
 Mackay. He undoubtedly ])Ossessed a very remark- 
 able talent for ])ianoforte i)laying, and at an early age 
 he had been sent to Germany to jjcrfect himself in 
 that art. There he became an enthusiastic admirer of 
 Wagner, and so before long tlie Countess's doors were 
 thrown open to him, and he became quite a lion in the 
 small society accustomed to assemble in her salon. 
 But it was a sore ])oint with the Waguerians that a 
 person who possessed such undoubted musical talents 
 should be a foreigner, and especially an Englishman, 
 for it was acknowledged beyond ([aestiou of dispute 
 that in the art of music nothing good could issue from 
 that island. His name was at once changed to that 
 of Albertus Magnus, as having a more artistic sound 
 than Al])e'i: Jolm Mackay, but that was not enough ; 
 so all wits were set to work to discover another 
 nationality for him. The Countess remarked one day 
 that there was an extraordinary likeness between the 
 features of her protrgr and those of the late lamented 
 and famous violin player Alexis Sewitzki. That was a 
 clue on wliich to work ; j)ort raits an<l photograi)hs of 
 the great violin jjlayer were consulted, and they seemed 
 to give a satisfactory result ; then inquiries were set 
 on foot, and it was actually found that the mother of 
 Albertus Magnus, Avliile travelling on the Continent, 
 had made the ac(iuaintance of Alexis Sewitzki at a 
 German bathing-i)lace ; the dates did not (juite tally
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 183 
 
 with lier son's age, but that was a matter of little 
 consequence, for, as they said, if there is proof that the 
 mother met the great Alexis in a certain year, there 
 is none to show that she had not met him often 
 before. All parties interested were satisfied with 
 these discoveries, and soon it began to be whispered in 
 Wagnerian circles that though the remarkable young 
 pianist, Albertus Magnus, might be a Scotchman by 
 the law of nations, yet by the law of God he was 
 undoubtedly a compatriot of Chopin. This delicate 
 little matter having been settled, there was nothing 
 left for the young Albertus Magnus to do but to pose 
 as a man of genius, and to lay claim to being the only 
 possible successor to Liszt. 
 
 That evening the Countess's salon was more than 
 usually full. Albertus Magnus had just finished 
 playing on the piano one of Liszt's difficult transcripts 
 from Wagner, and the usual buzz of admiration and 
 gross adulation followed as a matter of course ; the 
 ladies pretended to go into ecstasy over the artist, and 
 he, passing his fingers through his hair with a move- 
 ment which was intended to mean, " This has been a 
 great strain on my mind," stretched himself back in 
 his chair with an unutterable look of exhaustion on his 
 face. The Countess leant over her protege and kissed 
 his forehead. At that moment Count Immersdorf 
 entered the room. 
 
 It was not often that the Count showed himself in 
 his aunt's drawing-room. He was essentially a man 
 of the world, and the society which he met there was 
 far from being to his taste, and bored him intensely 
 He was fond of the ballet, operettes, horse-racing, and
 
 1^4 OLGA ZAXELLI. 
 
 gambling, and these seemed to him to siii)i)ly quite 
 sufficient sources of excitement for sane ]»eoj)le, and 
 he had the supremest contempt for those j)ersons who 
 posed as j)hilosophers, because they were learned in 
 book lore, while they remained absolutely ignorant 
 of the real world. For him the babble of a ballet-girl 
 at sui)per was infinitely more interesting than the 
 long-winded and abstrusely worded dialogues between 
 Wagner's heroes and heroines, and when he was taken 
 to see the ride of the " Walkyren" he simply remarked 
 that the horses on the stage were wretched screws. 
 He had made up his mind, however, to Nisit his aunt 
 on this evening for the very good reason that Moses 
 Jacobsohn had informed him that the letter would be 
 presented to the Countess on that night, and he wished 
 to be present to judge of the effect it would have 
 upon her. 
 
 " Is it really you ? " said the Countess, in her 
 mincing way, when she caught sight of her nephew. " I 
 am so surprised and delighted, "Wilhelm. You should 
 have been here a moment earlier to have heard how 
 divinely Albertus played on the i)iano." 
 
 " As you tell me so, my dear aunt," he rej>lied, " I 
 suppose I must acknowledge that I have incurred a 
 great loss by not having been here a little earlier ; but 
 all the same, I do not think I possess enough musical 
 taste to appreciate the jnanoforte j)layiug of so re- 
 markable a genius." Count Immersdorf noticed with 
 much satisfaction that his aunt had i)laced her arms 
 round the neck of her protigc^ and it would not have 
 been difficult to make the world believe that they were 
 already a pair of lovers.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 185 
 
 " Poor man ! " exclaimed a matronly looking lady, 
 addressing Count Immersdorf with an air of j)ity. 
 " You confess that you have no taste for music? How- 
 miserable your life must be ! " 
 
 " You are quite mistaken, Countess," retorted Count 
 Immersdorf to the lady Avho had apostrophised him ; 
 " I succeed in amusing myself fairly well." 
 
 The lady in question was the wife of one of the 
 foreign ambassadors, and she had lately been converted 
 to the creed that the world was only to be regenerated 
 through Wagner's music. Like all converts, she 
 developed an exaggerated zeal for the cause, and as 
 she was a lady of rank and position, she thought it 
 necessary to take under her jjrotection a young j)ianist ; 
 she also made the remarkable discovery in her fortieth 
 year that she j^ossessed jjoetical talents, and every 
 morning her unfortunate protege received from her a 
 batch of verses which he was expected to set to music. 
 
 " Y'ou really find subjects to amuse you, Count ? " 
 inquired the ambassadress, in a tone which implied 
 incredulity. " The lower orders who are uneducated 
 and barbarous may find a distraction in vulgar things, 
 but how can a man of education like yourself be 
 satisfied with anything in this world ? " Here the 
 matronly looking lady turned up her eyes and put on 
 the miserable look of a soul in torment. 
 
 " I am apparently not so difiicult to please as you 
 are, Countess," rei^lied Count Immersdorf; "I can 
 find plenty of amusements in this world, especially if 
 my pockets are full of money," 
 
 '• Y''ou are indeed to be jntied, my dear ('ount," she 
 continued. " I should like to know what pleasure a
 
 Ibij OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 man can really find in this world if his ears are closed 
 to the divine message which music brings." 
 
 " I will tell you, Countess," he answered at once. 
 " There is betting on horses, an amusement which is 
 far from being uninteresting ; there are ballet-girls 
 and actresses who sometimes turn out to be a source 
 of much entertainment ; there is also gambling, the 
 most exciting of all things ; then, with your per- 
 mission, Countess, I will mention love-making to 
 women, and sundry other exciting though enervating 
 pleasures."' 
 
 Having had enough of the ambassadress's conversa- 
 tion. Count Immersdorf turned his back upon her 
 and joined a group of men who were listening with 
 marked attention to a learned professor who was 
 discoursing about the philosoi)hy of Wagner. 
 
 " All the misery in this world is due to that 
 accursed principle of eating flesh," exclaimed the 
 professor, waving his arms and assuming the attitude 
 of a pro2)het addressing his disci])les. " Without the 
 bloodless diet, how can we have health and beauty 
 of mind and body ? How can we expect to jxjssess 
 that sensitiveness of soul essential to the proper 
 ajipreciation of a work of art ? Feeding on blood 
 makes us ferocious ; to it is due the sjurit of militarism, 
 that curse of the modern world ; and vivisection, that 
 modern desire to inflict pain on animals. The pure 
 heart and keen intellect of that great genius Richard 
 Wagner enabled him to grasp this vital princijjle ; 
 without sensitive natures there is no art possible ; 
 where we have no art we have barbarism. Richard 
 Wagner in his works, in his writings, in his music,
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 187 
 
 has pointed out to von the path wliich leads to 
 salvation, and more than any other man he has 
 laboured for the regeneration of mankind and the 
 world, therefore let us cry in the words of one who 
 has studied the Master ; look up ye men born of 
 dust, — look up to the sunny heights I There in holy 
 solitude sits Plato, — there sits Kant, — there Schopen- 
 hauer. See I — There they are the solitary geniuses of 
 mankind I — Powerful, — like unto giants ! But tower- 
 ing over them all is the genius of Richard "Wagner I 
 Hail to thee, Plato !— Hail to thee, Kant I— Hail to 
 thee, Schopenhauer I — Hail to you, geniuses I — But 
 thrice hail to thee, Richard Wagner I '' 
 
 After listening for a short time to this sort of thing, 
 Count Immersdorf turned away in despair, and went 
 and sat by himself in a corner of the room, for he had 
 to wait until the important letter had been delivered 
 to the Countess. The time seemed to him to pass 
 very slowly, but at last the door opened and a servant 
 entered bearing a letter on a tray. The Count rose 
 and approached near to his aunt. There was no 
 mistake about it : he could see that it was the important 
 missive. The Countess took the letter, and asked if 
 there was a reply. The servant answered that the 
 bearer had said there was none and had left imme- 
 diately. She put the letter down on a little table 
 which was near and continued her conversation with 
 Albertus Magnus, who was seated by her side on the 
 sofa. Count Immersdorf could not helj) feeling 
 violently agitated ; he longed to know what effect 
 the letter would have on his aunt, and he was much 
 annoyed that she did not open it. Presently, Countess
 
 188 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 Schnitzel looked at the euvelope, and remarked, " I 
 do not know this handwriting. What can it be ? " 
 Tlien addressing herself to the i)er8ons who were near 
 her, she said, " Excnse my opening it," and tearing 
 open the envelope she pulled out the letter and began 
 to read it. She read it through ; then over and over 
 again in an excited manner ; suddenly she turned 
 pale and, ginug vent to a loud cry, fell ])ack on 
 the sofa in a faint. Count Immersdorf was imme- 
 diately by her side, and stooping down he picked up 
 the fallen letter and i)ut it into his pocket. Much 
 commotion was caused in the room by this unexj)ected 
 incident, and as usually lia])pens on such occasions 
 everybody crowded round the jjrostrate Countess to 
 see what had occurred and to give advice. Count 
 Immersdorf had to make use of some strong ex- 
 pressions before his aunt's guests understood that 
 their presence was no longer desirable, and so one 
 by one they began slowly to leave the room. The 
 usual remedies were applied, but it took some time 
 before the Countess recovered consciousness, and 
 when she did she found herself alone with her maid 
 and her nephew. 
 
 " Where is the letter ? " she inc^uired at once. 
 
 " You dropi)ed it when you fainted," rej)lied Count 
 Immersdorf very low, so that the maid should not 
 hear. " I picked it up at once ; no one has seen its 
 contents but myself. Send your maid away, for I 
 must talk to you about this matter." 
 
 The maid was sent away, and then the Countess 
 cried out in a jiaroxysm of anguish, " It is an awful 
 calumny 1 Who could invent such things about me ?
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 189 
 
 Who can believe such things ? Oh ! Wilhelm, save 
 me ; tell me what to do I It is too horrible ! " Then 
 she covered her face with her hands and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Count Immersdorf pulled out the letter, and, while 
 pretending to read it carefully, he watched with satis- 
 faction the effect it had produced upon his aunt. 
 " This is a very serious accusation," he said ; " and 
 one that is more than likely to be believed by most 
 persons." 
 
 " Oh, do not say so ! " sobbed the Countess. " I 
 swear it is not true. The world is not so wicked as 
 to believe such a story of me." 
 
 " The world will believe anything against a pretty 
 woman," he replied. The word jiretty made the 
 Countess look up with surprise, for she was not 
 accustomed to such flattery, and expected it least of 
 all from her nephew who was of about her own age, 
 and whom she had known ever since he was a child. 
 " My dear aunt," continued the Count, " you must 
 confess that you have not been very discreet in your 
 conduct. This letter accuses Albertus Magnus of 
 being your lover ; I do not for a moment believe 
 such a monstrous accusation, j'et you cannot deny 
 that you have exposed yourself to that suspicion. 
 He is always with you ; you almost seem to worship 
 him ; you patronise him most publicly : can you deny 
 this ? To-night I accidentally droj) in, and I find 
 you with your arm round his neck, as if it were the 
 most natural thing in the world that you should put 
 it there. People are not charitable, and I am certain 
 that if it were once seriously hinted that this musician
 
 190 OLfSA ZANELLI. 
 
 was yonr lovor, everybody wonld believe it. You 
 have been so very indiscreet that there is much 
 evidence which tells against yon. I liave heard it 
 asserted that you have even kissed hira in public." 
 
 " I may have done so in a moment of enthusiasm," 
 answered tlie Countess, plaintively ; " but 1 meant no 
 harm wlien I did it. "Who could believe that I would 
 fall in love with a mere boy ? " 
 
 " Ladies have strange tastes," remarked her nej)hew ; 
 ^' I do not think that the fact of his being a boy will 
 make people less inclined to believe that he is your 
 lover. But to return to the letter ; do you know the 
 handwriting, and have you got any suspicions as to 
 who might have written it ? " 
 
 '• I do not remember ever having seen the hand- 
 writing before," said the Countess, examining the 
 letter closely ; " nor am I aware of having any enemies 
 who would be capable of extorting money from me by 
 spreading calumnies with regard to myself." 
 
 " It is a very strange business certainly," remarked 
 Count Immersdorf, putting on a grave look, " and 
 £2,U00 is a very large sum to j»ay to make the 
 authors of this letter keep silence. Do you not think 
 that it might be as well to show this letter to your 
 husband ? " 
 
 '* Never I " shouted the Countess ; '' promise me 
 never to mention it to him ; men of his age so easily 
 get strange ideas • into their heads. No one must 
 know that I have received this letter. Oh, Wilhelm, 
 do suggest some way of getting me out of this diffi- 
 culty ! Shall I put the matter into the hands of the 
 jiolice. nnd beg them to keep it very secret, and to try
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 191 
 
 and discover the authors ? Oh, save me, Wilhelm ! 
 do ! " She clasped her nephew's hands, and again 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Count Immersdorf did not answer at once, but he 
 put on a look of deep thought, and when he began to 
 talk it was in a hesitating manner, as if he feared that 
 the advice he was about to give would prove unaccept- 
 able. " My dear aunt, the person to whom you should 
 turn for advice in this present difficulty is no doubt 
 your husband ; he is a man of experience ; he knows 
 the world, and the ways of society ; he is the natural 
 and best adviser whom you could consult ; and I feel 
 certain that he would succeed in finding a satisfactory 
 solution to this horrible business ; but, as you decline 
 to refer to him, I really am at a loss to know what to 
 suggest. To my mind there are but three courses open 
 to you. I will enumerate them separately. First, to 
 place this letter into the hands of the police, and to 
 request them to do their best to discover the authors 
 of it. This course has, I think, but little to recommend 
 it. I have not got much faith in the efficiency of our 
 detective service ; and I do not believe that the police 
 will ever discover who wrote this letter. Moreover, 
 if you enter upon this course you will have to inform 
 your husband of it, which you do not wish to do ; and 
 as the matter is sure to leak out before long, you will 
 see the newspapers commenting upon so extraordinary 
 a case. Much scandal is sure to collect round j'our 
 name, therefore I should advise you to avoid the police. 
 The second course which is open to you is to put the 
 letter into the fire, and to boldly face the consequences 
 wliich are threatened. I would not recommend you to
 
 192 olc;a zanelli. 
 
 do this, and I will tell yon why. Yon might say that 
 very likely the threats wonld not be carried out ; now 
 I can hardly bring myself to believe that the persons 
 who wrote this letter are not resolute in their inten- 
 tions of extorting money from you. I feel perfectly 
 certain that if the money is not paid tliey will write 
 letters to your husband and your friends, giving, 
 what many j)ersons will believe, conclusive })roofs of 
 your infidelity with Albertus Magnus. No doul)t your 
 husband will not believe the story ; yet many of your 
 friends may do so, for ])eople are apt to say that where 
 there is smoke there is a fire, and, I must repeat it 
 again, your conduct lends colour to the accusation. 
 The third course which is open to you is, to pay the 
 money ; all things considered, I tliink it is the most 
 satisfactory one for you to follow. Two thousand 
 pounds is, I admit, a large sum, yet peace of mind and 
 a name without blemisli are also worth something, 
 and to i)reserve them most peojjle would be \nlling to 
 sacrifice a good deal. If you want my candid opinion, 
 my dear aunt, it is this — pay the money." 
 
 "Do you really think so? " asked the Countess, in 
 a piteous tone. 
 
 " I know of no other alternative," he replied. '' Are 
 you unable to raise this sum without your husband 
 hearing of it ? " 
 
 The Countess hesitated for a moment before she 
 answered. '' Wilhelm, I have lately inherited a little 
 money. It is, however, all invested. How am I to 
 sell shares without my husband hearing of it ? I do 
 not know what is to l)e done ! " 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about that, my dear aunt,"
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 193 
 
 replied the Count ; " be need never bear of it. Give me 
 sufficient sbares, and I will get tbem sold to tbe very 
 best advantage ; and if you like I will also see tbat tbe 
 money is paid over to tbe autbors of tbis letter." 
 
 " Ob, do I " exclaimed tbe Countess ; " it would 
 be so kind of you ; — it will save me ! No one tben 
 need know of tbis matter but us two. I will send 
 you tbe sbares to-morrow. You will settle tbis 
 matter for me, will you not, Wilbelm ? and I shall 
 never bear of it again." 
 
 " Very good," said tbe Count, with a mournful look ; 
 " I will sacrifice myself, and settle tbis business for 
 you ; but I would willingly see you put it into the 
 bauds of men of more experience than myself. As I 
 undertake it, however, you may rest assured, my dear 
 aunt, tbat I will do my best for you. If your husband 
 should by any accident discover tbat you had parted 
 with certain securities, you might say that you bad 
 sold them for the benefit of some poor artists, or say, 
 for Wagner's theatre at Baireuth. He will probably 
 believe it at once, and not make any further inquiries. 
 I can see you are tired and excited ; you had better 
 retire to bed. I will burn this letter, as it is of no 
 further use to you, and if found might be very com- 
 promising." Tbe Count took the letter and threw it 
 into tbe fire. 
 
 " You have saved me, my dear Wilbelm ! " exclaimed 
 tbe Countess, throwing her arms round bis neck and 
 kissing him. " How lucky it was tbat you were here 
 to-night. I do not know what I would have done if 
 you bad not been here. I owe you a deep debt of 
 gratitude." 
 
 VOL. I. 13 .
 
 194 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 The Countess Schnitzel retired to her bedroom, and 
 Count Immersdorf, having put on his coat and hat, 
 and lit a big cigar, sauntered home j)leased with 
 himself and all things, for he now knew that in a few 
 days he would be the owner of at least £1,UUU.
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FOR several days after Olga Zanelli had become his 
 mistress Count Klinkenstein did his best to avoid 
 meeting Baron Zerbino and Sydney Gray. He felt 
 ashamed of his weakness, for he had repeatedly assured 
 them both that he had no intention whatever of doing 
 the girl any harm. He knew that when what he had 
 done became known, he would be exposed to much 
 chaff, if he were not severely blamed by both his 
 friends ; all the same, he felt pleased that the thing 
 was done, and that no stepping back was possible, for 
 he could no longer hide from himself the fact that he 
 was deeply in love with Lolo. 
 
 One day as he was hurrying back from drill he 
 turned sharply round the corner of a street and ran 
 up against the Baron and Sydney Gray. That such a 
 meeting was sooner or later inevitable Count Klinken- 
 stein knew well enough, so that he was not quite 
 unprepared to answer the questions which were likely 
 to be addressed to him. 
 
 " Hallo ! " shrieked the little Baron, in his shrillest 
 voice. " Is it you, Klinkenstein ? Why, where on 
 earth have you been all this while ? It is a week 
 since I saw you last, and every time I called at your 
 rooms your servant answered that you were out and 
 not likely to return for some time. I was too discreet
 
 190 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 to press the point. I suppose you have been har- 
 bouring some actress, or perhaps a ballet-girl for the 
 last week or so ? " Here the Baron gave Count Klin- 
 kenstoiu a nudge in the ribs with the end of his 
 elegant cane. 
 
 " You are entirely wrong in your suppositions," 
 re])lied Count Klinkenstein, rather piqued at the way 
 in which he was greeted. " My dear Zerbino, you 
 ought to know nie well enough by this time to be 
 aware tliat it is not my habit to make my rooms a 
 rendezvous for women of bad cliaracter. If my servant 
 told you I was out it was evidently because I was 
 not at home. All your insinuations are base and 
 unfounded." 
 
 " A servant who is ready to tell lies for his master's 
 sake, and shows intelligence and discretion, is a most 
 useful person," answered the Baron. " I never ac- 
 cused you of extending the hospitality of your rooms 
 to women of bad character ; I drew the line at actresses 
 and ballet-girls, which does not exclude the possibility 
 of your having received a prolonged visit from a 
 duchess or a countess." 
 
 " It is indeed very flattering to me that you should 
 think tliat such exalted persons throw themselves 
 into my arms. You are getting exceedingly foolish, 
 Zerbino." Then the Count began to walk at a 
 quick j)ace, as if he wanted to get rid of the little 
 Baron. 
 
 " Hallo, Klinkenstein ! " shouted Baron Zerbino, 
 trying to keej) uj) with liis friend, " why on earth do 
 you want to walk at this jiace for ? I see you are i)ut 
 out at being chaffed ; never mind, Klinkenstein. 1 did
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 197 
 
 not mean any harm, and if it pleases you, I will believe 
 that you have spent the last week in meditation. 
 Popes have been known to become sometimes a little 
 frivolous ; why, then, should a Count Klinkenstein not 
 become serious for a time ? " 
 
 " I am not angry," replied the Count ; " I was only 
 annoyed at your insinuations that I spent my time in 
 running after women, and in general debauchery. I 
 am more serious than you imagine." 
 
 " Serious ! " exclaimed the Baron, looking at the 
 Count and catching hold of his arm to prevent him 
 from walking too fast. " What interpretation do you 
 give to that word ? The dictionaries define it, I 
 believe, as gravity of disposition, the reverse of volatile. 
 Your general conduct is no doubt quite in keeping with 
 that definition." 
 
 " I am not trying to defend my conduct," answered 
 Count Klinkenstein. " I have no doubt done many 
 foolish things ; but all I will say is that I sometimes 
 do think seriously before I act." 
 
 The three friends continued walking for a time 
 without saying anything, but silence was the last 
 thing which suited the Baron ; and as his curiosity 
 had been keenly excited by the Count's manner and 
 the answers he had given, he was bent upon discover- 
 ing what had been the cause of the unexplained 
 absence of his friend during the last week ; so presently 
 he re-opened the attack. 
 
 " Now that you go in for solitude and meditation, I 
 suppose you have quite forgotten your once beloved 
 Olga ? " said Baron Zerbino. 
 
 The mention of Lolo's name sent the blood into
 
 r.».S OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 Connt Kliukenstein's face, and turning towards the 
 Baron he answered him sharply. " I will not hear 
 anjihing said against her ; do yon understand me 
 now ? "' 
 
 " AVhoever would wish to say anything against so 
 beautiful a creature ? " in(iuired the Baron, rather 
 astonished at tlie way in which Count Klinkenstein 
 had spoken. 
 
 " If you did not say anything, you had at least the 
 intention of saying something nasty about her, so I 
 stopped you." 
 
 "It is- very kind of you to read my thoughts," 
 retorted the Baron : " you are getting amazingly 
 clever, my dear Klinkenstein ; but I do not think you 
 have as yet succeeded in obtaining the proficiency of 
 a Cumberland in the art of thought-reading. I never 
 say anything nasty about women, least of all about a 
 young and pretty girl." 
 
 " So much the better," replied the Count ; " for I 
 give you distinctly to understand that if ever I hear 
 a word spoken against her I shall not hesitate to 
 knock that man down, whether it he in the street or 
 in a private liouse." 
 
 " You are becoming quite a second Don Quixote," 
 remarked Baron Zerbino, rather amused at the Count's 
 earnestness. " But take care, my dear fellow, that yon 
 do not bump up against the windmills, for there are 
 plenty of them about in the world, and they have 
 mighty strong arms." 
 
 " You are quite riglit, Klinkenstein, to stand u]) for 
 the girl," said Sydney Gray, who had so far listened 
 to the conversation without saying a word, but who felt
 
 OLGA ZAi^ELLI. 199 
 
 a certain admiration for the Count's chivalry ; " I only- 
 hope she will prove herself worthy of it." 
 
 " I am certain she will/' replied the Count, taking 
 Sydney Gray's arm ; " she is a noble girl. I believe 
 you have never seen her ; you will judge for yourself 
 some day." 
 
 The Baron was not to be so easily beaten in his 
 researches, so he presently asked the Count : " Have 
 you seen your Olga of late ? Not so very long ago 
 you used to pay her one or two visits every day. Have 
 you given up that amusing entertainment ? What is 
 she doing now ? " 
 
 " I am not her guardian," replied Count Klinkenstein. 
 " If you want to know anything about her go to her 
 shop and inquire." 
 
 " That is just what I have done," answered the 
 Baron, triumphantly. " I have made inquiries, and I 
 was told you had not been there for a week, and that 
 Olga Zanelii had been sent away." 
 
 •' Then if you want to know where she is find it out 
 for yourself, for I do not mean to be bothered with any 
 more questions," replied the Count, rather sharply. 
 
 They had reached the corner of the Unter den Linden 
 and the Friedrichstrasse ; here the Baron declared that, 
 as the Count seemed to be in the sulks, and did not 
 like to talk, it was better for them to leave him. He 
 said good-bye and walked off. Sydney Gray was 
 about to do the same when Count Klinkenstein held 
 him back, and said : " I would like to have some talk 
 with you. Gray ; can you spare me a few moments ? 
 My rooms are close by. We might go up there." 
 
 " Certainly ! " replied Sydney Gray, who all along
 
 200 OLGA ZANELLl. 
 
 had felt that there was something weijsrhiug on his 
 friend's mind. 
 
 They readied the honse and went nj)stairs. The 
 C'ount's servant opened the door and let them in, and 
 then Hans discreetly left them alone. 
 
 " 1 suppose you have got into a mess, and are in 
 search of advice?" remarked Sydney Gray, as he sat 
 down in one of the Count's comfortal)le arm-chairs. 
 
 " Yes," answered Count Klinkenstein dryly, as he 
 went to the window and looked out of it with a 
 sheepish expression on his face, as if he were at a loss 
 to know how to tell his story. After a prolonged period 
 of silence he turned round suddenly and said to Sydney 
 Gray : " 1 must tell you all ; do not ])lame me too 
 much ; what you expected has occurred." 
 
 " I suppose you are alluding to the Italian girl ? " 
 inquired Sydney Gray. 
 
 " Yes ; she has become my mistress." 
 
 They both remained silent for a time, then Sydney 
 Gray remarked : " That is the way those acquaint- 
 anceships generally end. My dear Klinkenstein, I am 
 sorry to hear of this ; but it is no use crying over spilt 
 milk. What are your intentions now ? " 
 
 " I cannot marry her," he replied at once ; '' it is 
 impossible fur a ])erson in my position to do so, how- 
 ever much 1 might like it. Before she gave herself 
 away she knew of this. 1 propose to give her all the 
 money I can ; I love her : you will not think this 
 very surprising when you have seen her. I shall 
 surround her with every luxury ; I shall try and make 
 lier happy. What more can I do for her ? " Then 
 he j)roceeded to relate the events which liad taken
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 201 
 
 place the evening he had met Olga Zanelli in the 
 Thiergarten. 
 
 " It is a strange story," remarked Sydney Gray, who 
 had listened to the Count's narrative with deep in- 
 terest. " I do not suppose that you can marry her, 
 that would only make matters worse. If you want my 
 advice, I will give it you, though I do not for a moment 
 expect that you will follow it. You have always told 
 me that she wished to go on the stage ; it is a natural 
 desire on her part, for she is a woman, and has been 
 born and bred in Bohemian circles. You can settle 
 money on her so as to render her independent ; have 
 her well taught ; push her once she is on the stage — 
 for there are many ways in which you can be useful 
 to her — and if she has talent, as you say she has, she 
 ought then to succeed. But I strongly advise you to 
 put an end to your liaison with her as soon as possible ; 
 it can do neither of you any good, and no one can 
 tell how it may end ; besides, your family will want 
 you to marry some day, therefore keep yourself free. 
 Break with the girl, and the sooner you do so the 
 better." 
 
 " You do not know what you are talking about," 
 answered the Count, excitedly ; " I have no intention 
 of getting married. She shall not go on the stage, 
 because I do not wish her to be exposed to temptation. 
 She is to be mine, and mine alone ; and you would not 
 advise me to give her up if you had seen her." 
 
 There was no answering such arguments, so Sydney 
 Gray kept quiet, and taking a book off the table he 
 began to read it. He felt that his friend had done a 
 foolish "thing, of which he would repent sooner or later,
 
 202 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 but that at the present moment no words would per- 
 suade liim of it. He still lioj)ed that Count Klinken- 
 stein's fancy for this girl would i)ass away before any 
 serious harm had been done, and that he might yet 
 succeed in breaking the liaison between them. His 
 best ])olicy was not to oi)pose tlie Count, but to wait 
 until he had grown tired of his comi)auion, and theu 
 to stej) in as a mediator between them and suggest 
 some arrangement which would be satisfactory to both 
 parties. 
 
 Count Klinkenstein began jtacing his room, mutter- 
 ing to himself, and evidently much incensed at the 
 suggestion that he should give up Olga Zauelli. 
 " I love her, do you understand me ? " he suddenly 
 shouted at Sydney Gray. " I do not believe you have 
 got a heart ; you are nothing but a cold-blooded 
 pliilosopher. Your advice may be excellent in theory, 
 but it is exceedingly bad in practice. When a girl has 
 given herself to you, and sacrificed everything she has 
 for your sake, you cannot turn her out into the street 
 when you have done with her, and when you feel that 
 she is no longer so attractive to you as she was. You 
 may call me a fool and an ass if you like, but I shall 
 not give you the opportunity o calling me a brute. 
 I shall never love any one else, 1 am sure of that. 
 I have promised her that she shall be my wife iu 
 anything but name, and I do not intend to deceive her, 
 not even to please you. Give her up ! Why, I should 
 prefer to jumj) out of that window." 
 
 " My dear Klinkenstein, I do not for a moment say 
 that you are not sincere in your belief that you love 
 her, but men are so often deceived in such things,
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 20S 
 
 especially when tliey are young and at their first love. 
 Yon cannot fight against the great laws which govern 
 the world, or the i)rejudices of the society in which 
 you will have to live. You are neither of you made 
 to be man and wife, and sooner or later you will find that 
 you will go through the same phases through which 
 other men have passed. You will love her ardently 
 for a time ; then will come a period of satiety, which 
 will be soon followed by one of indifference ; after that 
 you will get to hate the person whom you will look 
 upon as a bond and a chain to jouv freedom." 
 
 " Never ! " answered the Count ; he would have said 
 more, but his words were stopped by the sound of 
 music in the adjoining room. 
 
 " Who is there ? " inquired Sydney Gray. 
 
 " It is Lolo. Come and see her, it will be the best 
 way of convincing you that I am not likely to get 
 tired of her." He went up to the door and opened it 
 gently. " May we come in ? " he said. 
 
 Olga Zanelli was at the piano. She turned round 
 on her music-stool, and when she saw a stranger walk 
 in she rose. 
 
 " Lolo, I must introduce to you Sydney Gray, a 
 secretary of the British Embassy; he is one of my best 
 friends, although he has just advised me to give you 
 up." 
 
 '*' But you will not do it, will you ? " she said ta 
 Count Klinkenstein, giving him a kiss. 
 
 " Of course not, Lolo ; when Sydney Gray knows 
 you, he will no longer give me the same advice. He 
 is a cold-blooded creature, like most Englishmen, and 
 always lets his common sense govern his actions.
 
 204 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 You must ])ardon him, Lolo ; the jKjor man has never 
 been in love." 
 
 She stretched out her hand to Sydney Gray, who 
 muttered some excuses for the advice he had oriven. 
 She looked at him for some time, and then she said : 
 " We shall be the best of friends ; I like your face, 
 for you look so lionest. I am sure you really thought 
 the advice you gave Edward was for his good. You 
 were his friend, and you did not know me ; if he had 
 followed it, I would have died." 
 
 Sydney Gray was greatly struck by the charm of 
 Olga Zanelli's looks and manners ; he had exj)ected 
 to find a j)retty girl of low extraction and \nilgar ways, 
 and instead of that she seemed to him particularly 
 sympathetic, with the ease and savoir /aire of a lady. 
 He remained for a long time looking at her and saying 
 nothing. 
 
 " Do you (tare about music ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Very much," he rejjlied ; '* Klinkenstein has often 
 spoken to me of your talents. You sing Italian songs, 
 do you not ? I would be so much obliged if you would 
 let me hear some of them." 
 
 She took a seat at the ])iano and began to sing, 
 as he desired, songs from her own Italy, and snatches 
 from operas and oj)erettes. Sydney Gray, resting his 
 arm on the top of the instrument, fell into a reverie, 
 as he coutemj)lated the beautiful creature before him, 
 and listened to her songs. Music has the ])Ower of 
 recalling to sensitive natures the memory of every 
 pathetic or sentimental mood through which they 
 have passed in former days, and Sydney Gniy's mind 
 wandered back, as lie listened to Lolo's voice, to Italy,
 
 0LC4A ZANELLI. 205 
 
 where lie had often heen — to the days of his boyhood 
 spent in his home in the west of EngLand — and to the 
 wild dreams in which he had then indulged, that 
 in after days he would lead a chivalrous life, and 
 perform doughty deeds. He pondered over the strange 
 meeting which had brought C!ount Klinkenstein and 
 this girl together, of the charm and beauty of the 
 whole thing, of their sincere and ardent love, and 
 then he was seized with a presentiment that it could 
 not end well, and that he was powerless to do anything 
 to avert a calamity, for the force of destiny is too strong 
 for man to contend against. 
 
 " You are dreaming," she said, as she looked up at 
 him. 
 
 " Music always makes me feel sad," he replied ; then 
 taking out his watch and looking at it, he made it an 
 excuse that it was growing late, and so took his leave. 
 
 When he was gone Lolo came and sat near Count 
 Klinkenstein ; leaning her head against his shoulders 
 she whispered to him : " Edward, have you many 
 friends as nice as this one ? He is the first one you 
 have introduced me to." 
 
 " You will get to know them very soon, Lolo, and 
 then you will be able to judge for yourself. By the 
 way, Lolo, I have found a house which I think will 
 suit you ; to-morrow we shall go and see it together." 
 
 A few weeks later Lolo entered into possession of 
 the charming little apartment which Count Klinken- 
 stein had selected for her use, and wliich he had caused 
 to be entirely re-decorated and newly furnished. To do 
 so he found it necessary to borrow money, and he found 
 money-lenders only too ready to provide him with
 
 206 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 funds. As lie wanted the money at once he was 
 natnrally charged a high rate of interest, hnt that was 
 not a matter wliich wouM make Count Klinkenstein 
 hesitate for a moment, for lie had no idea of the value 
 of money, and when he was in want of it, as on the 
 present occasion, he was ready to sign anything that 
 was laid before him, provided the funds he required 
 were supplied. He had very extravagant notions, and 
 he did not think that his mistress could be suitably set 
 up, or his promise to supply her with everything she 
 wished for redeemed, without a preliminary expenditure 
 of at least £5,000. Lolo never knew of the Count's 
 money transactions, and he always assured her that 
 his income was so large that what he spent upon her 
 was but a trifle. 
 
 Tlie house which had been selected was situated in 
 one of those clean-looking streets in that new quarter 
 of Berlin which has been built of late years to the 
 south of the Thiergarten. It was a bijou residence, 
 built in the French Renaissance style, only two 
 stories high, crowned by a Mansard roof, and with 
 a couple of fantastic-looking turrets at the angles of 
 the house. The most charming feature of the place 
 when seen from outside was the large expanse of clear 
 looking-glass windows, such as is rarely seen outside 
 of England. Count Klinkenstein, with his usual grand 
 ideas, had thought it his duty to hire the whole house. 
 It would have been small for a family, but for one 
 person only it was more than sufficiently large. On 
 the ground floor was the dining-room and the offices. 
 The staircase was of white marble, and the hall, which 
 was large and roomy, was i)aved with slabs of the
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 207 
 
 same material. Palm trees and broad-leaved plants 
 surrounded a picturesque little fountain which splut- 
 tered its water into a large conch in which some gold 
 fish were floating. The drawing-rooms on the first 
 floor had their walls lined with pale-coloured silk 
 embroidered with flowers, and were decorated in the 
 style in vogue during the reign of Louis XV., and the 
 furniture was in keeping with the decoration. Lolo's 
 bedroom was large and bright-looking, the furniture 
 was sumptuous, and the state bed had hangings of the 
 richest brocade ; close by was her boudoir, and a bath- 
 room lined with tiles and fitted with a delightfully big- 
 bath and everj^ modern convenience. 
 
 Lolo moved into this charming residence as soon 
 as it could be got ready for her ; she found there 
 everything she could wish for, and her infatuated lover 
 did not forget to supply her with horses and carriages, 
 diamonds and jewellery, and it soon became known in 
 Berlin that she was Count Klinkenstein's mistress. It 
 was not without a certain sense of satisfaction that he 
 would go to the Restaurant des Ambassadeurs at lunch- 
 time to watch from the window Lolo driving past in 
 her smart victoria, and to know all the while that his 
 brother officers were nudging each other, and pointing 
 to him with a look of envy which signified, " Is he not 
 a lucky fellow to be the owner of the prettiest woman 
 in Berlin ? "
 
 208 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OLGA ZANELLI was in high spirits. Slie had 
 always pined for Inxnry and artistic surround- 
 ings ; now she had them, and at the same time she 
 was in love with the man who had procured her these 
 advantages. Her life was now passed in one whirl 
 of excitement. Count Klinkenstein had sncli an 
 implicit confidence in liis mistress that he put n<» 
 obstacle in the way of licr receiving any one slie chose, 
 and she therefore soon made the acquaintance of all 
 his friends and acquaintances. Invitations to dinners, 
 suppers, and artists' halls poured in upon her, and 
 nearly every night during tlie winter season she could 
 be seen at the opera or tlie ])lay. She liad been 
 introduced to most of the leading actors and actresses, 
 and they were not unfrequently innted to little suppers 
 in her house, which generally terminated with music 
 or singing, or even in impro\nsed dances. Count 
 Klinkenstein pushed her on to every sort of extrava- 
 gance ; he seemed to have lost all control over himself, 
 and the more she spent the more he was pleased. 
 Every whim of hers was immediately gratified ; lie 
 was continually presenting her with new jewels ; her 
 dresses came from Paris ; and if she gave a large 
 supper he insisted on her ordering everything which 
 was out of season. When tlie winter came he bousrht
 
 OLGA ZANELLl. 209 
 
 her the most beautiful furs, and the first day the snow- 
 fell and lav on the ground a delightful sledge, built to 
 resemble a swan, drove up at her door drawn by two 
 black Russian horses. It was a surprise which Count 
 Klinkenstein had prepared for her, and as the fleet 
 horses skimmed over the snow pulling their pretty 
 mistress wrapped in her furs quite a crowd would 
 collect in the Unter den Linden to see her pass, and 
 the famous sledge soon became the talk of Berlin. To 
 Sydney Gray's remonstrances at his reckless expendi- 
 ture ('ount Klinkenstein would reply : " What does 
 it matter what I spend, or whether I have to borrow 
 a little more or a little less ? My estates are large ; 
 I have even expectations from my mother's family ; 
 as long as Lolo is pleased I am satisfied. Life is 
 short ; let us amuse ourselves as best we can without 
 doing harm to our neighbour." 
 
 Lolo's little supper parties became quite famous, and 
 invitations to them were eagerly sought after, for she 
 was invariably pleasant to everybody, and she gave 
 herself much trouble to select guests who suited each 
 other. It is needless to say that she had innumerable 
 admirers, not only among the younger men, but also 
 among those of somewhat advanced age. There was 
 a certain elderly duke, of French origin, approaching 
 his seventieth year ; he was assiduous in his attentions 
 to her, for according to him she was the only femme 
 chic in Berlin, and the Duke's oj^inion was not to 
 be treated lightly, for he was a connoisseur in such 
 matters. Every night that a ballet-girl showed her- 
 self on the stage of the opera-house he could be seen 
 in his box, elaborately dressed in a costume which 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 21 U OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 might have been in fashion at the beginning of the 
 century, always wearing his white gloves, and having 
 an ivory opera-glass luing round his neck by a black 
 silk band. As soon as the ballet was over his Grace 
 would retire, and wicked tongues re}X)rted that it was 
 not always to his domestic hearth. Of nearly the 
 same age as the Duke was his friend the Count de 
 Bonmarch6, a gentleman of foreign origin, who had 
 settled in Berlin. Their tastes were similar, — the 
 cultivation of frivolous a^stheticism ; in other words, 
 the patronage of ballet-girls and the collection of 
 bric-a-brac. In physical appearance, however, they 
 differed considerably from each other, for the Duke 
 was a dapper little man, and still full of go and of 
 belief in his power of making new conquests among 
 the ladies ; whereas the Count had grown ponderous 
 and heavy with age, and in appearance was not unlike 
 the busts of Socrates which have come down to us, 
 and, like that distinguished person, he was also a 
 philosopher, for he trusted more to the length of his 
 purse than to his personal charms to win for himself 
 the affections of the fair but frail sex. "When Lolo 
 was at home in the evening the Duke and the Count 
 would frequently drop in to take a cup of tea, and 
 while the Duke chatted away with all the liveliness 
 of a Frenchman, the Count, after having delivered him- 
 self of one of his oft-repeated stories, would gradually 
 dose off to sleep in a corner of the room. 
 
 It has already been mentioned that Olga Zanelli 
 had a cousin, Heinrich by name, who was the son 
 of her mother's brother, the parson Johann Lazarus. 
 He was a little older than she was, and in his youth
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 211 
 
 he had been a frequent visitor to the Zauelli house- 
 hold. Heiurich was destined by his father for the 
 Church, and at the present time he was studying at 
 the Berlin University. He had a very great aversion 
 to the profession for which he was destined, but his 
 tyrannical and pedantic father would listen to no 
 remonstrances, so in a sulky and discontented mood 
 Heinrich had to continue his study of Hebrew and 
 the Bible. Heinrich Lazarus belonged to a class of 
 individuals who are not uncommon in Germany. He 
 was sentimental, a dreamer, over-educated in a wrong 
 direction, all his knowledge being of an unwieldy 
 nature ; he was ignorant of the world, knowing men 
 only from books, careless of bodily health and physical 
 strength; in appearance, puny, with drooping shoulders, 
 long hair, and spectacles. He was an omniverous 
 devourer of quaint books ; he studied the philosophers 
 assiduously, for like the Alchemists of old he was 
 seeking for the philosopher's stone, longing to discover 
 a system of the universe which would explain all 
 things from questions of abstruse theology to the 
 pressing social questions of the day. He felt the 
 need of anchoring himself to some comprehensive 
 system ; for the idea that there might be problems 
 which mankind can only feel and not explain, and 
 which should be approached with reverence and not 
 with a tape measure to try and discover their altitude 
 and profundity, was absolutely distasteful to him. 
 Plausible systems are easy enough to build up, but 
 it is more difficult to make all things fit into them, 
 and dangerous to expose them to thorough tests. 
 The German philosophers have ever been great adepts
 
 21:<J OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 in tliroTsnng dust into the eyes of their followers by 
 the use of abstruse language, so that they should 
 not too easily perceive where lay the flaws in their 
 systems, as Heine wittily remarked when he said, — 
 
 " Zu fragmentarish ist Welt und Leben, — 
 Ich will mich zum deutschen Professor begeben ; 
 Der weiss das Leben zusammen zu setzen, 
 Und er macht ein verstiindlich System daraus ; 
 Mit seinen Nachtmiitzen uud Schlafrockfetzen 
 Stopft er die Liicken des Weltenbaus." 
 
 Heinrich Lazarus was not a person who was likely 
 to make many acquaintances at the University, for 
 he lived a very retired life, and he was exceedingly 
 shy when brought into contact with peoi)lo he did 
 not know well. He had two friends, however, from 
 whom he was rarely separated ; one was Ludwig 
 Krause, the other Bernard Alder. They had been 
 schoolfellows at the same gymnasium, and there was 
 little difference between them in the matter of age. 
 Ludwig Krause was a good-natured, good-humoured 
 creature, with an immense capacity for drinking beer. 
 No one could accuse him of possessing genius, but he 
 had an undoubted talent for drawing and landscape 
 painting, and he was studying at the Berlin Academy 
 of Arts in order to qualify as an artist. Bernard 
 Alder was a shrewd, j)usliing, ambitious person, of 
 low parentage, and ])ent upon making a career for 
 himself. He was studying at the University to 
 become a barrister, and like most young men of his 
 class he was an enthusiastic liberal in politics, not 
 to say a democrat, and lie thought he knew a great 
 deal better tlian Prince Bismarck how Germany
 
 OLGA ZANELU. 213 
 
 should be governed. These three friends were con- 
 tinually together ; they lived in garrets close to each 
 other, and fed at eating-houses where a meal could 
 be procured for the sum of sixpence and a sumptuous 
 dinner for eighteen pence. It was perhaps their 
 dissimilarity of character which had at first attracted 
 them towards each other ; Heinrich Lazarus dreaming 
 Utopias ; Bernard Alder quite absorbed by practical 
 politics and eager to engage in the fray ; and Ludwig 
 Krause, who, as a " Kiiustler," had the hugest con- 
 tempt for politics, and who would make the " Bier- 
 hallen " ring with his loud and merry voice. 
 
 After Olga Zanelli had been established in her 
 sumptuous apartment she chd not forget, in the whirl 
 of the new life she was expected to lead, her cousin 
 Heinrich, of whom of late she had seen but little, but 
 who in the old days had been her constant companion. 
 He had always expressed the greatest devotion to 
 her, and Lolo had little doubt that had he not been 
 so shy he would have made love to her even at that 
 early age. She had always liked the gawky boy ; 
 now he was the only member of her family she could 
 see, and the only connection which remained between 
 her present and her past life. Her father had been 
 particularly kind to him, and she longed to see some 
 one with whom she could talk of the days which 
 were gone by, when she was poor and had to dance at 
 the Victoria Theatre. She felt certain that though he 
 might not perhaps approve of the irregularity of her 
 present life he would not condemn her too severely. 
 So she sent him a charmingly worded little letter on 
 rose-coloured scented paper asking him for the sake
 
 214 OLGA ZANKLLI. 
 
 of old days to come and see her. He replied that he 
 would cull the next morning. 
 
 Punctually at the hour fixed Heinrich Lazaras 
 timidly rang the bell at Olga Zanelli's house. A 
 smart footman opened the door, and after severely 
 scrutinising the shabby appearance of the individual 
 before him, asked him what he wanted. He replied 
 that he had been sent for by his cousin. 
 
 " Oh I you are one of the family ; then walk in, 
 please," said the menial with. a certain contemptuous 
 air, for he was accustomed to usher into his mistress's 
 drawing-room princes and counts, and the smartest 
 officers of the Guard. 
 
 Heinrich entered the richly furnished room, where 
 the air was kept delicately scented by the fumes which 
 rose from a silver burner on the table. Lolo, in a 
 dainty dressing-gown faced with rare lace was reclining 
 on a soft couch reading a book. When she saw him 
 come in she jumped up, and, throwing her arms round 
 his neck, to his great astonishment kissed him several 
 times. 
 
 " We are cousins," she said ; " you cannot get over 
 that, so we may kiss quite respectably ; besides, you are 
 the only member of my family who deigns to see me ; 
 have I not, then, every reason to be civil to you ?" 
 
 He was too startled to reply anything, so he sat 
 down by her side and gazed at her in a sheepish sort 
 of way, trying to realise that the beautiful young girl 
 he saw so richly dressed was really his cousin Lolo with 
 whom he had so often played. 
 
 " Am I changed ? " she intpiired, laughing, for she 
 guessed his thoughts.
 
 OLGA ZAXELLI. 215 
 
 " You are, indeed," he sighed ; for as a boy he had 
 always secretly harboured the hope that some day he 
 would be able to marry her. How could he have 
 expected that she would ever become so rich ? 
 
 " What are you doing now ? " she asked. " Do you 
 still propose to enter the Church ? You used to hate 
 the idea so as a boy." 
 
 " I have to earn my living," he replied ; " I must 
 follow some profession, and the choice is not great. I 
 am not made for the army, and my father insists on 
 my becoming a parson. What can I do but obey ? I 
 should like to revolt ; perhaps some day I will." A 
 flush of anger passed over his pale face, and he turned 
 away from Lolo as the subject was distasteful to him. 
 
 " I suppose your father never mentions my name ? " 
 said Lolo. " Does he look upon me as a lost thing ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Heinrich, with some hesitation ; 
 " but then, you know how severe he is." 
 
 " And do you think so too ? " 
 
 "No, Lolo ; you know I have peculiar views about 
 marriage which my father and other persons, the 
 world liolds to be sensible, consider pernicious. I do 
 not force any one to accept my views ; let every man 
 believe according to his lights." 
 
 " You are a strange creature, Heinrich," replied Lolo 
 laughing, and stretching herself back on her soft couch ; 
 " you were always full of fantastic ideas about men 
 and women ; making out that girls are angels, and 
 endowed with every virtue ; I am afraid that we are 
 more often possessed of a devil who bereaves us of our 
 senses, and who can only be exorcised by a man we 
 love."
 
 216 OLGA ZANELLl. 
 
 " Are von liaj)j)y, Lolo ? " 
 
 " I slionld be very difficult to please if I were not. 
 I love Edward, and he is kinder to rae than I ever 
 believed man could be. If I express a wish for any- 
 thing he immediately does his best to satisfy it. He 
 loves me passionately, and he is so jdeased if I am in 
 good humour and ha])j)y,that it would be wrong of me 
 not to be so ; besides, I owe him so much." Then her 
 thoughts wandered back to that day when, alone and 
 friendless in the world, she had applied for lielp and 
 relief to Heinrich's father, and he liad rejected her 
 from his door as if she were already a defiled 
 outcast. 
 
 " Lolo," said Heinrich Lazarus, " I am so glad you 
 are happy ; if he loves you and you love him what 
 does it matter what the world says ? " 
 
 " It would be better though if we could be married," 
 she remarked, apologetically ; " but there are so many 
 difficulties in the way of it." 
 
 " Would yon really be made any happier by that 
 event ? " asked Heinrich. " The world is so foolish, 
 and so fidl of jjrejudices, is it not weakness on our part 
 to give in to them ? Love is the essential of married 
 life ; if we possess it, all is well with us, and we have 
 no need to ostentatiously announce tlie fact to the world 
 by going through the marriage form. Have we got no 
 faith in ourselves ; no faith in the duration of our love, 
 that we must forge bonds to bind us together when 
 the spirit which unites us is departed ? It is a dece}>- 
 tion we practise on the world, and is not worthy of 
 ourselves. Which is the greater sin, to love without
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 217 
 
 demns in the one case and praises in the other. Is it 
 not unjust to do so ? " 
 
 " If the propriety of my conduct is ever brought 
 into question," replied Lolo, with a smile, " I shall 
 send for you to be my advocate ; but what would your 
 father say if he heard you express these views about 
 marriage ? Would he not be horrified ? " 
 
 " He belongs to the old school of narrow-minded 
 theologians," answered Heinrich, with considerable 
 bitterness in his tone ; " men who squabble and hate 
 each other over the meaning of a word in the Bible, 
 and miss the spirit of the New Testament ; men who 
 are cold and bigoted, devoid of feeling and sympathy 
 for humanity with its many wrongs and sorrows and 
 unsatisfied aspirations, its weali;nesses and failures ; 
 men who think that propriety is the greatest of virtues ; 
 who believe that virtue and vice are divided by a well- 
 defined line ; who do not see that they are inextricably 
 mixed in every human creature, and that often what 
 they call a disgraceful action is but founded on the 
 noblest aspirations. The men we are taught to look 
 up to as our Christian leaders are the first persons 
 who would throw stones at you, Lolo, because you are 
 not married to Count Klinkeustein. You have sinned 
 against the morality invented by man, so no mercy is 
 to be shown to you ; but had you sinned against the 
 spirit of God's laws, had you been pufi'ed up with that 
 pride which makes you say you are saved and there- 
 fore better than your neighbour, had you been un- 
 charitable and full of paltry meanness, had your actions 
 been influenced by envy and jealousy of the prosperity 
 of other persons, had you spread scandalous rumours,
 
 218 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 true or untrue, about your neighbour, or luid you even 
 gone so far as to cheat him, you would have been 
 pardoned. What delusions govern the world and 
 make those therein miserable ! Why sliould we exalt 
 one virtue to the detriment of the others ? Are the 
 virtues whicli affect the body of more importance than 
 those which aifect the soul ? Marriage may be a noble 
 institution ; chastity in woman may be a noble virtue ; 
 but marriage is not everything, and chastity is not the 
 only virtue, and its enforced existence may be jnir- 
 chased at too great a loss of the others." He continued 
 for some time in the same strain ; then Lolo, who had 
 been listening to him, half amused and half astonished, 
 interrupted him. 
 
 " My dear Heinrich, you are evidently destined for 
 the Church since you can deliver such fluent extempore 
 sermons ; but if you serve up your present views to 
 your congregation you will give rise to a scandal, and be 
 very soon requested not to appear again in the jmlpit. 
 You should make allowances for people's deep-rooted 
 prejudices ; they cannot all be founded on foolish 
 sentiments. We cannot all be j)hilosophers like you, 
 and expose every one of our feelings to the test of cold 
 logical criticism. I am a woman, and for my part I 
 believe that to abandon oneself to natural feelings and 
 impulses will more often lead one the right way than 
 all the reasoning in the world ; and as for marriage, I 
 must confess that I would willingly exchange my 
 present state for it. It is no use grumbling, how- 
 ever," she added, laughing ; " and it was not to discuss 
 matters of morality that I sent for you, my young 
 theologian. I want you to render me a service."
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 219 
 
 " I will do anytliing you like," he replied ; " but I 
 was not aware, Lolo, that I was in a position to render 
 you any service." 
 
 " I will tell you, Heinrich, what I want you to do. 
 You know when my father died we were left very 
 poor, so we had to bury him in a simple grave with only 
 a wooden cross over it. I was always unhappy about 
 this. Now that I have money I have caused a marble 
 monument to be erected over the graves of my grand- 
 father, father and mother. I have received notice 
 that it is now finished. Will you accompany me 
 to the cemetery and see it ? I have not told Edward 
 about it ; he did not know my father, so it would 
 not interest him, and he would only be bored if I 
 asked him to come with me and see it. If you would 
 accompany me it would bring back to my mind the 
 old days so much more vividly. I feel so changed 
 with this new life I am leading, Heinrich." 
 
 He acceded to her request at once. Lolo rang the 
 bell for her maid, and proceeded to her room to get 
 ready to go with her cousin to the cemetery. Heinrich 
 was left alone, and as he was kept waiting some time 
 he not unnaturally fell into meditations over the 
 strange experiences of life. To find Lolo surrounded 
 by wealth and luxury, living in rooms more richly 
 furnished than he had ever dreamed of, was the last 
 thing he had expected. It was a great blow to him, 
 for from his early boyhood he had kept alive the hope 
 that one day he might be in a position to propose to 
 his pretty cousin. He had resigned himself to work 
 to enter an uncongenial profession mainly in the hope 
 that it would procure him sufficient means to surround
 
 220 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 her with all necessary comforts ; the height of his 
 ambition was to obtain some cosy parsonage in the 
 country, where they would have lived at their ease 
 quietly and lovingly. But now all such hopes were 
 extinguished ; he would never be able to give her the 
 luxuries she now possessed ; she was happy in her 
 present position, so he would do nothing to disturb it. 
 The idea of entering the Church seemed to him now 
 more distasteful than ever. He felt tliat he must find 
 some occupation which would absorb all his energy, 
 all his enthusiasm, all his liopes ; if he was debarred 
 from loving a human creature, he would try and 
 forget his disappointment by finding some object on 
 which to pour all the love which he felt himself capable 
 of. He thought that to labour to elevate the masses 
 and to better their condition might be a noble object ; 
 the coldness of the Lutheran Church rejielled him. 
 
 As he was absorbed in these thoughts Lolo returned. 
 She was simply attired in a woollen dress of dark 
 colour, and she looked in it far more the Lolo of old 
 than she did when lying on the couch in a dressing- 
 gown covered with lace, and with high-heeled slippers, 
 on the tii)S of which her initials were embroidered in 
 gold thread. 
 
 " I have not ordered my carriage," she said ; " I do 
 not wish any of my servants to know where I am 
 going. Come, Heinrich, I am ready ; we will take a 
 cab and drive to the cemetery." 
 
 They left the house together, and after a short walk 
 they found a cab. They drove across the centre of 
 Berlin, and then entered those interminably long and 
 •dreary streets on the outskirts of the town, in which
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 221 
 
 all the houses resemble each other, and are five or six 
 stories high, and devoid of any marks which might 
 show the individuality of the persons who inhabit 
 them. After a long drive they reached the gates of 
 the cemetery. It was partly surrounded by houses, 
 and was situated in a squalid and hideous neighbour- 
 hood. The graves were mostly those of the poorer 
 classes, and they were closely packed together, with 
 little ornamentation on them except crosses of black 
 wood, not unfrequently decorated with a certain 
 amount of gilding. There were few flowers to be 
 seen growing, and the trees were scarce and small, 
 having been planted but a few years before. It was a 
 melancholy and dreary place, as cemeteries in great 
 cities usually are. Lolo remembered well the last 
 time she had been here ; it was on the occasion of her 
 mother's funeral ; a winter's day with the rain coming- 
 down steadily, and the priest hurrying through his 
 work as quickly as possible, holding an umbrella in one 
 hand and the prayer-book in the other. She would never 
 forget that depressing funeral with only two mourners 
 present, — herself and her cousin Heinrich, — for her 
 uncle, Johann Lazarus, did not consider it consis- 
 tent with his duty as a clergyman of the Evangelical 
 Church to assist at the funeral of his sister according 
 to the rites of the Eoman Catholic religion, especially 
 as she had committed the unpardonable sin of abandon- 
 ing the pure doctrines of the Reformed Church to go 
 over, on her marriage, to Romanism and idolatry. 
 
 The new monument was soon found. Although it 
 was not large it seemed regal by tlie side of so many 
 undecorated graves. It consisted of a flat marble slab
 
 222 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 with a cross of the same material. The inscription 
 was in Italian, and commemorated the fact tliat it had 
 been erected hy Olga Zanelli as a memorial to her 
 father and mother as well as to her grandfather, who 
 liad died an exile after having fonght for the deliver- 
 ance of his native land. A \nctor'8 crown and a 
 broken harj) were carved in low relief on either side 
 of the marble slab. 
 
 Olga Zanelli dej)Osited on the grave a beantiful 
 wreath which she had brought with her, and having 
 knelt down she remained for some time absorbed in 
 prayer. When she rose she cast a last look at the 
 monument which she had erected, and then taking 
 Heinrich's arm she strolled .through the cemetery. 
 It was early spring-time, and on the trees scarcely 
 a bud was as yet visible. The grass on the graves 
 was thin, and there were no wreaths of flowers except 
 those made of immortelles, which looked dirty and 
 draggled from exposure to the weather, to relieve 
 the sad and desolate scene. 
 
 " I have had enough of it," remarked Lolo, after 
 a while to her companion ; " let us go, Heinrich ; the 
 place begins to depress me. I should not like to be 
 buried here, for the graves seem so neglected as if the 
 living had completely forgotten the existence of the 
 dead." 
 
 " It matters little where we are buried," he answered ; 
 ** our work is among the living, and when we are 
 called away humanity has no further need of us, and 
 may well throw our bodies into any corner." 
 
 " You men have no sentiment," replied Lolo ; " for 
 my i)art I should like to know that those I loved lay
 
 OLGA ZANELLI. 223 
 
 buried in a pretty spot. It is not for the dead tliat 
 we raise monnments, but for the living ; and it seems 
 to me that a beautiful churchyard is a consolation 
 to many." 
 
 Poor Heinricb, accused of having no sentiment ! 
 He who was all emotions. He regained with her the 
 entrance to the cemetery feeling exceeding sad, for the 
 marble monument which they had visited was to him 
 a visible sign that their positions to each other had 
 changed, and that she could never be his. 
 
 " It is late," remarked Lolo. " You must be 
 hungry, Heinrich ; let us go and get something to 
 eat." 
 
 He replied that he would do anything she liked, but 
 that he felt no hunger ; in fact, he was much more 
 inclined to go home and cry. 
 
 Opposite to the gateway of the cemetery was a pot- 
 house, where the mutes and drivers of funeral coaches 
 were accustomed to go and have a drink while waiting 
 for the return of the mourners. 
 
 " Let us go in there," said Lolo, pointing to the 
 spot ; so they entered and seated themselves at a 
 wooden table in the low parlour. There was not 
 much choice in the way of food, and they had to be 
 satisfied with hot sausages, bread and cheese, and beer. 
 
 " It reminds me of many a supper I have had with 
 my father," remarked Lolo ; then, noticing how sad 
 her cousin looked, she said to him : " Heinrich, you 
 really must not be so depressed." Then she cheered 
 him up till, by degrees, he began to recover his spirits 
 and to enjoy the simple fare which had been set before 
 him.
 
 224 OLGA ZANELLI. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when they separated, 
 and Lolo drove home i)leased with her day's excnrsion, 
 and in hi^^h sjnrits, for she felt the occasional need of 
 emanci])ating herself from lier present surronndings. 
 That night slie was invited by some of her aristocratic 
 friends to a luxurious supper, where the table was 
 covered ^-ith roses and flowers, but it could not efface 
 from her memory the pleasure which the humble 
 repast in the low pot-house outside the cemetery had 
 given her. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.