Stormy Weather

The Eye of the Storm - I

Carl looked out of the carriage window and gave a happy sigh. Finally, he was back in Vienna -- after nearly two years of absence. One of his superior officers had taken notice of Carl's talent for administrative work, and before Carl had realised the danger he was in, he had been transferred to Wiener Neustadt -- a place he had grown to hate, having spent most of his teenage years in the military school there -- to do administrative work he hated even more. Which was the reason why he was so efficient in doing it - he did not want to spend any more time than necessary with that kind of work. A desk job had been his worst nightmare, and it had come true.

Right from the beginning of his stay in Wiener Neustadt Carl had tried to get transferred back to Vienna, had applied for every post he had known to be vacant, but without success. Even now, Carl suspected, he owed his transfer to the fact that the Colonel's daughter, who was engaged to be married with some dreadful bore, had suddenly developed a preference for him. Which had made instant measures necessary -- Carl was suddenly back in his old regiment, raised to the rank of Captain, and would be able to see his family and friends again. Reason enough to be grateful to Cupid, Carl thought with a grin. At least the Colonel had not blamed him -- he would hardly have backed his promotion, had he thought Carl responsible for his daughter's fancy.

The carriage stopped at an inn, and Carl got out. A familiar face greeted him. It was Novacek, the soldier who had once saved his life. Novacek stood attention, saluted and welcomed him back in Vienna "in the name of the whole regiment, sir". He told Carl that he had been appointed to be his personal attendant, and was there anything he could do for the Captain, he would be most happy to do it, and by the way, the Colonel wished to see the Captain at 1500 hours sharp.

Carl had hoped to spend his first day in Vienna with his family, but no such luck, obviously. He told Novacek to see to it that his luggage was taken to the Hertenberg Palais, and to await him at the barracks at quarter to three. A glance at his pocket watch convinced him that there was still plenty of time for him to go home, greet his family, and make himself presentable.

So, leaving Novacek to deal with the porters, he made his way home. He had nearly forgotten how beautiful Vienna was, Carl thought while walking along the familiar streets. Beautiful, and lively. How could one endure living anywhere else?

Upon his arrival at home, he was shown into the drawing room, where he found his mother and sister, dressed for going out. The sound of the pianoforte being played in the music room told him whom they were waiting for. Carl grinned. Most likely, Theresia had forgotten about their plans for the morning the moment she had sat down at her instrument.

Marie gave a shriek of delight, ran towards him and embraced him, which earned her a disapproving look from her mother. Carl gave his sister a closer look. Marie had grown, and she seemed to have lost a great deal of her timidity, which was good. She was nearly a young lady now...

"Welcome home," she said with a smile. "We did not expect you so early."

"Oh, once I heard that I was allowed to go, nothing could have held me back," Carl said with a grin.

He went over to his mother and kissed her cheek.

"How are you, Mama," he asked her.

"Rather fine," she replied. "Though quite busy at the moment."

"You seem to enjoy every bit of it, though," Carl said. "You do look like life itself." She did indeed look much better than when he had left her, nearly her old self again.

The Baroness smiled, but did not answer. Instead she turned to Marie and asked her to remind Theresia that they were waiting for her.

"What about Joseph," Carl asked. "Is he not at home?"

"No, he is in Hertenberg," the Baroness answered, "and he will not be back before Friday. You know what it is like -- there is always so much to do on a farm in springtime. He will be glad to see you at home, I am sure."

Carl was not so certain about that. A lot had changed since his father's death. He and Joseph had never been very close, but now...

The door burst open and in came Theresia, buttoning up her pelisse and carrying her bonnet in her hand.

"Ah, welcome back, Carl," she said in an offhand manner, as if he had only been gone for a few minutes instead of two years.

She, too, had grown, although not quite as much as Marie. She was still rather short, but appeared to be taller. It was her manner -- the way she looked into people's eyes.

"I am ready, Aunt," she said, without much enthusiasm. The Baroness rose.

"Will you be here in the evening," she asked Carl. "I wish I could stay here with you and talk, but I do have this appointment with my dressmaker ... it is hard to get one at the moment, you know."

"Never mind," Carl said. "I have to go and see the Colonel, anyway, and I might call on Horvàth, too. See you at dinner, then!"

The Baroness nodded, and left the room, followed by the girls, leaving Carl to wonder what the heck was so important about an appointment with a dressmaker.

******

"Captain, eh," Horvàth said when Carl entered the billiard room of their favourite café. As if Horvàth were to be found anywhere else...

Carl laughed. "It will be your turn, soon, I am quite certain."

"I doubt it," Horvàth said, putting away his cue and sitting down. "Unfortunately, my colonel does not have any daughters of suitable age to be meddled with."

"I did not meddle with anyone," Carl said.

"He does have a wife, though," Horvàth said, ignoring Carl's comment. "Perhaps I should try and flirt with her."

"I am sure that would have consequences," Carl said. "Though, perhaps, not the ones you desire."

Horvàth laughed. "Coming to think of it, I think I will leave her alone," he said. "The woman is a fright -- though, in comparison to her husband, she is quite attractive."

"Poor woman, she does not know what she is missing," Carl said dryly.

"Poor woman, indeed," Horvàth said. "Anyway, welcome back. It was quite boring around here without you."

"Was it," Carl asked. "One could have thought that you had had plenty of things to do..."

"So I had, but things were getting rather boring nevertheless. Oh, and my sister was rather pleased when I told her you would be back soon."

Horvàth's sister... Carl was not really sure what Horvàth meant with that allusion to her. Ilona Horvàth was beautiful, charming, and had, according to her brother, "about half of the young men in Vienna under her spell". Carl liked her very much, too, but he was quite sure he was not in love with her, and had never been. Yet Horvàth seemed to think differently.

"I hope everyone in your family is well," Carl said. Certainly that could not be mistaken. He was merely inquiring after his friend's family, which was a proper thing to do.

"Very well," Horvàth said. "Preparing for the annual spring ball -- which means there is a great deal of discussion going on - clothes, ribbons, lace, satin and other indispensable necessities. Still wondering why I am taking every chance to escape them?"

"Speaking of escape," Carl said. "I might offer you an alibi for tomorrow morning. What about meeting in the fencing hall? I could do with some training."

Horvàth had often been his training partner in military school, and their fights had become legendary meanwhile -- or so Carl had found out during his stay in Wiener Neustadt.

"Feeling up to it, are you?" Horvàth said with a grin.

"Very much so. I need to give you the thrashing you deserve."

Horvàth laughed. "In your dreams maybe. But who am I to stop you? If you insist on a disastrous defeat, that is what you will get."

"You are insufferable sometimes, do you know that," Carl said, laughing.

"Oh yes, I know," Horvàth answered. "But my friends have learned to put up with that."

******

During dinner, Carl had the opportunity to enjoy his family's company. His mother had taken the girls on a shopping trip, she told him, and they had bought fabric and taken the girls' measurements for their first ball gowns to be made.

"Ball gowns," Carl said, quite surprised. "Aren't they a bit young for that?"

"They are both seventeen," the Baroness said indignantly. "It is time for them to take their place in society."

Seventeen ... where had all those years gone? His mother was right, of course. But why did they still look so much like ... well, girls?

He shot a furtive glance at Theresia, who was giving the trout on her plate a defiant stare. The trout stared back. There was still so much of a child in Theresia...

"So, I trust you have found yourself something nice," Carl said, fully aware that now he would not hear the end of the clothes subject until the ladies would leave him to himself.
Which would not be till after dessert...

"We found this lovely pink satin, which I thought would become Theresia so well," the Baroness said.

"I am not going to wear it," Theresia said darkly.

"Why not? I am sure it would look so sweet on you," the Baroness said.

"Aunt, if you want me to wear pink, you will have to drug me first," Theresia answered, causing Carl to cough in order to hide his laugh. "I am not going to attend a ball looking like a wedding cake."

"What about you, Marie," Carl said, to distract the attention from Theresia for a moment.

"I am going to wear white," Marie said. "But I am not going to give you any more details. You will just have to wait until you see me."

Thank God, Carl thought. He did not feel quite comfortable with the subject of female attire.

"What did you choose in the end, Theresia," Marie asked.

"That sort of greenish silk," Theresia answered.

The world was still as it was supposed to be, Carl thought. Theresia still acted more like a child than a grown woman. Elegant ladies did NOT refer to their dresses as sort of greenish. Carl knew that Ilona Horvàth, for example, would not.

******

"Welcome to the club," Horvàth said with a grin when Carl told him about the previous evening.
Carl did not quite like that sort of grin.

"They took me by surprise," he said. "I mean, look at them...they are children!"

"Are they," Horvàth asked, dryly. "They did not look like children to me, last time I saw them. But I know what you are going through...my sister has been out for two seasons, do not forget that. Everything is fine for now, believe me. The bad part starts when their admirers try to be friends with you in order to get near them. I never thought I had many friends -- until my sister entered society."

"Admirers," Carl said, in a tone suggesting that he did not believe that to be possible.

"Just you wait," Horvàth said. "There will be plenty of them."

"That is a thing I do not really want to think about," Carl said determinedly.

"Of course not," Horvàth said. "No one does. But sooner or later you will have to face the fact that your sister has grown up. The sooner you do, the better it will be for you. Otherwise you will go mad."

Carl could hardly wait until Joseph got home. He wondered what his opinion on the subject would be.

******

Joseph's view of the problem was rather relaxed, Carl found out.

"Do you not believe that our mother is aware of what she is doing? I trust she knows what is the best for the girls," he said, coolly.

"I trust her in that, too," Carl said. "But does it not trouble you?"

"Why should it," Joseph answered.

"Well..." Carl began, but broke off. He did not know how to express his concern. It was probably as Horvàth had said -- he had not yet reconciled himself to the fact that his sister had finally grown up. That was not Marie's fault -- nor was it his own. He could not help worrying about her.

"Listen, Carl," Joseph said soothingly, "there is no need to worry at all. I understand that the whole matter has taken you by surprise, which is probably the reason why you feel uncomfortable at the moment. However, we cannot stop the natural course of events, can we? If it makes you feel better, I intend to keep an eye on both girls to guard them from any ... unwanted influence, if you know what I mean. This is all I can do."

Carl nodded. That was what had concerned him most...that either his sister or Theresia might fall in love with the wrong sort of man. One certainly had to do everything to prevent that. Joseph could absolutely count on his assistance there.

******

It was the evening of her first ball. Theresia did not know what this meant to other girls, but she was about as nervous as she had been when she had sung at Signora Giovanelli's soiree for the first time.

She sat at her dressing table and watched the maid doing her hair. So far, everything had gone well ... the dress had been finished in time, and it looked wonderful -- both Marie and Aunt Elizabeth had told her so.

Something worried her, though. The dress was rather revealing ... she knew, of course, that ball dresses were supposed to be that way, but she felt uncomfortable. Certainly everyone would be staring at her.

Everything was so unfamiliar. Never before had Theresia made such an effort to look good. She had always done her own hair -- well, nearly always, anyway, and she had never worn any ornaments except the little cross on a gold chain her mother had given her when she had still been a little girl.

It was as if the young lady in the mirror was someone else and not at all connected with her.

"There you are, Miss," the maid said.

Theresia smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She did not think of herself as "pretty", she had never done, but she looked almost pretty tonight. In rising, she picked up her fan and reticule. It was time to show herself and get the evening done with.

Part II

Carl and Joseph were in the drawing room, waiting for the ladies to make their appearance.

"This is the first time Mother goes into company again ever since Father died," Joseph said meditatively. "Except some dinners with a few select friends, that is. It will do her good to be among people again."

Carl nodded. He had to agree with Joseph on that issue. The Baroness had led too much of a secluded life -- being in mourning was one thing, but secluding oneself was another. She had taken things too far, sometimes.

The door opened, and the Baroness entered the room. It had been a long time since she had last looked so good, Carl thought. Her dress was elegant and made her look several years younger than she was, and her smile was merrier than it had been for years.

"Now, what do you say," she asked. "May I go out like this or will you be ashamed of your old relative?"

Joseph laughed. "On the contrary," he said. "I shall make a point of informing everyone that this elegant lady is my mother."

"You will have to be careful not to outshine the girls," Carl said with a smile.

"Oh, I see you have not seen them yet," the Baroness answered. She turned to Joseph.

"We will have to employ a lady's maid for them," she said. "We have tried to make do with mine, but I am afraid work is getting too much for her if she has to tend to three ladies at once."

"Why, of course," Joseph said. "You know I trust you completely in household matters, Mother. You need not ask my permission if you need more staff -- just go ahead and hire as many people as you want."

The Baroness nodded. "I will see to it first thing tomorrow, then," she said.

"Where are the girls," Carl asked impatiently. "It is getting late."

"Patience, Carl," the Baroness said calmly. "The ball does not start before ten o'clock, and we do not really have to be the first party to arrive."

There was laughter in the corridor -- Theresia's laughter, definitely.

"Sounds like they are ready," Joseph said, smiling, and opening the door for them.

The sight was a bit of a shock for Carl. Until now, he had been able to delude himself, to assume that the girls were still so very young, that they were children after all. Until now ... seeing them in their ball gowns overthrew his illusions.

Marie wore a white lacy dress, very simple, but elegant. Her hair was made up in lots of ringlets, and some white flowers accentuated its colour.

Theresia stood in the doorway, smiling the superior smile that showed everyone who really knew her that she was not quite as sure of herself as she wished to appear. Though there was no need for her to feel insecure.

Carl wondered if he had been blind all the time. He had been in the same household with two beauties without noticing it...though he was certain that other men would notice them at once, as soon as they entered the ballroom. For the first time Carl thought it possible that there would be plenty of admirers soon, just as Horvàth had predicted.

Joseph looked at him, grinning. "You do look rather silly with your mouth open. I'd close it if I were you," he whispered.

Carl realised that he was, indeed, staring at the girls with an expression about as intelligent as an ox staring at the stable door.

"Well, what do you think," Theresia asked.

"Very...nice," Carl managed to say. He had just realised that Theresia had...well, curves ... and he had yet to get over that discovery.

"Do not listen to him, he delights in acting stupidly today," Joseph said. "Looks like I am luckier than I deserve -- going to the ball with the three prettiest ladies in Vienna is not an honour bestowed on everyone."

Marie smiled and blushed. "Do you really think so," she said.

"Absolutely," Joseph answered. "I am very proud of all of you and I cannot wait to show off."
He helped Theresia put on her cloak and left Carl to do the same with his mother and sister.

"I think we should go now," he finally said. "Carl was already getting impatient. It seems he has been gone from Vienna too long. I hope you will not be disappointed, Carl, Vienna is not what it used to be."

******

At the ballroom, Carl went in search of Horvàth and found him at the entrance to the card room, leaning casually in the doorway with a glass of wine in his hand.

"I wondered how long it would take you to find me," Horvàth said. "I saw you and your family arrive, and I must say the young ladies surpassed my expectations by far."

"I need a drink," Carl said. Horvàth laughed.

"Calm down," he said. "You will see the whole matter is only half as tragic as you thought it would be."

A tall, slender, dark-haired young lady in a stunning red dress approached them.

"Captain von Hertenberg," she exclaimed, "I must say we quite despaired of ever seeing you again. Tell me, where have you been hiding yourself all the time?"

Carl bowed, and said with a smile, "I did not hide at all, Miss Horvàth. I spent most of my time working at the barracks, and then your brother required my company nearly every day."

"You have always been a selfish brute, Janos," Miss Horvàth said to her brother, though it was quite evident that she was not really serious.

"The love of a sister," Horvàth said with a wink at Carl. "Is there anything in the world comparable to it? I am going to leave the two of you to make up for the long separation caused by my egoism, and I will welcome your sister and cousin, von Hertenberg. For purely selfish reasons, of course -- if I am lucky, one of them will consent to be my partner for the first two dances."

With these words, he left Carl and his sister alone.

"Speaking of dancing, Miss Horvàth," Carl said, "would you consider dancing the first two with me?"

"I would not only consider it, sir," Miss Horvàth answered, "I would even go so far as to actually doing so, if you asked me to."

Carl laughed. "You know I meant to ask you if you would dance with me, Miss Horvàth."

"For a lady, Captain von Hertenberg, it is most advisable only to hear what a gentleman actually says," Miss Horvàth said. "Any attempt at figuring out what he might mean to say could have disastrous consequences."

"You are a pessimist, Miss Horvàth."

"No, I am a realist, sir. Only a slight difference, I admit, but a significant one nevertheless. Now, I see your sister and cousin are here for the first time. I quite like their gowns, especially your cousin's. Eau-de-nil is such a beautiful colour, is it not? I wish I could wear it myself, but unfortunately I look awful in it -- like a ghost. Any shade of green makes my complexion look so pale -- I envy Miss von Laudeck. She looks so pretty in that colour."

"She does, doesn't she," Carl said.

"She will be quite a favourite with the gentlemen soon," Miss Horvàth continued. "She is pretty, and possesses the right amount of sauciness to make her interesting. Look, she has already attracted Count Bàthory's attention."

"Bàthory? I did not know you were acquainted with him."

Miss Horvàth laughed. "Oh, please, Captain von Hertenberg, everybody knows Count Bàthory. Why should I be an exception?"

"Why indeed," Carl said darkly. Although Bàthory was a good friend of his brother's, Carl had always found it difficult to like him, and Bàthory was not the sort of company he would like Miss Horvàth to mix with. But this was none of his business. Unfortunately.

******

"Do you think we will find partners for a dance or two," Marie asked Theresia when they entered the ballroom. She had been quite calm at home, but now her anxiety began to show.

"I am quite sure that one or two gentlemen in here will take pity on us, yes," Theresia answered dryly. Her self-assurance had vanished the moment she had seen dozens of very pretty young ladies and had realised that most of them were prettier than she.

Lieutenant Horvàth was the first gentleman in their acquaintance to greet them. He was very kind, Theresia thought. He talked with them in a very friendly way, complimented them on their appearance, and asked both of them to dance with him -- Marie was to dance the first two dances with him, Theresia the second two. That would have been quite pleasant, had Theresia not seen Carl talk to Lieutenant Horvàth before and strongly suspected that Carl might have asked his friend to do him a favour -- he probably wanted to spare his sister and cousin the mortification of having to sit through their first ball. Yet, she consented to dance with him, mainly because her fear of really having to sit down all evening was stronger than her pride. Besides, one could do worse. Lieutenant Horvàth was quite handsome, and he was agreeable.

The next gentleman to join their party was Count Bàthory, who quickly engaged Theresia for the first two dances. Theresia was not particularly fond of him, but young as she was, she knew it would be an unpardonable mistake to snub one of the most prominent men in Viennese society. Besides, Count Bàthory was Joseph's friend, and she had the greatest respect for Joseph's views in general.

The crowd was large, and so, to Theresia's great dismay, she was separated from Marie. Her good humour was only partly restored when she noticed Carl and Miss Horvàth standing up not very far from herself.
Happy to have a conversation topic to start with, Theresia pointed them out to her partner.

"This is my cousin over there, with Miss Horvàth. They do make a pretty couple, don't they?"

"They both have their qualities as far as looks are concerned," Count Bàthory concurred.
He did not seem to be pleased to see Carl and Miss Horvàth, though, Theresia thought.

"I wonder where my cousin Joseph is," she said in an attempt to change the topic.

Count Bàthory laughed. "In the card room, most likely," he said. "Baron von Hertenberg is not fond of dancing -- he hardly dances at all."

"How so," Theresia exclaimed. "He is a very good dancer, as far as I know."

"One thing does not exclude the other, Miss von Laudeck," Count Bàthory said with a smile. "A man can be good at something without actually enjoying it."

"I have not yet had enough opportunity to get acquainted with gentlemen's ways to contradict you, sir," Theresia said.

"Good for me, Miss von Laudeck. I do not like to be contradicted," Count Bàthory answered. His polite smile did by no means soften the harshness of the statement.

Theresia blushed, and they danced on in silence. When the music stopped and Count Bàthory took her back to her seat, she was glad to be rid of him. Her opinion of him had not changed a bit. Actually, she began to think that it would have been more pleasant to be sitting down than dancing with a partner like the Count.

******

Marie considered herself lucky that her first dancing partner at her first ball was someone with whom she could feel at ease. She had had horrible visions of being unable to talk to her partners and being generally regarded as a complete simpleton. Lieutenant Horvàth had made her feel more confident. She was already acquainted with him and had always liked him, which spared her the awkwardness of having to dance with a complete stranger. He had a way of talking with her that reminded her very much of her own brother, Carl. The topics were commonplace enough -- they were talking about the music, acquaintances they had in common, their families, likes and dislikes.
Before Marie became aware of it, the two dances were over, and Lieutenant Horvàth led her back to her seat.

"Have a pleasant evening, Miss von Hertenberg," he said before he left her to dance with Theresia.

"Thank you very much for making it very enjoyable so far," Marie answered.

Horvàth laughed. "It is always easy to be pleasing in such charming company, Miss von Hertenberg."

Marie blushed. She did not think of herself as charming company. Her bashfulness, for example, bothered her very much. In her opinion, it was a huge obstacle on the way to charm. She was not yet aware that her shyness was part of her charms.

******

The Hertenbergs met the Horvàths again later that evening. Mrs. Horvàth wanted to invite the family to dine with her one of the following evenings, and she and her daughter joined them to communicate their invitation.

While Mrs. Horvàth and the Baroness were exchanging pleasantries and gossip, the young ladies were at leisure to refresh their acquaintance, which had been formed some years before under not so favourable circumstances.

"Are you enjoying yourselves," Miss Horvàth asked.

"Very much," Marie replied. "Though I am afraid everything is so new to me -- I am certain I will make a complete fool of myself."

"Oh, there is no need to be afraid, Miss von Hertenberg," Miss Horvàth said. "My brother has praised you very highly, and his praise is worth having -- he bestows it most unwillingly, in general."

"I can hardly believe that," Marie said. "Mr. Horvàth is the most good-natured gentleman I know."

"Yet you do not know him as well as I do," Miss Horvàth said. "I have no doubt that he thinks favourably of many people, but he is not usually so enthusiastic in praising them. -- Miss von Laudeck, I have to compliment you on your dress. I have already told your cousin how much I admire it."

Theresia thanked her and returned the compliment. Next to Miss Horvàth, she felt rather small, plain and unimportant.

"I heard you were very fond of music, Miss von Laudeck," Miss Horvàth continued.

Theresia admitted that she was.

"So am I. I hope you will play for us one day."

Theresia promised that she would. Certainly, Miss Horvàth did her best to be civil with them, but Theresia did not like her. She could hardly forgive anyone for being infinitely more attractive than she herself was.

"Are you a horsewoman, Miss von Hertenberg," Miss Horvàth asked, turning to Marie again.

"Not much of one, I am afraid," Marie said. "I confess I have always been a bit afraid of horses. I took a bad fall once when I was little -- probably this is the reason why."

"We practically grew up on horseback, my brother and I," Miss Horvàth said. "What about you, Miss von Laudeck? Are you fond of riding?"

"Oh, I like to go horse riding now and then." Theresia smiled. "If one of my cousins can find the time -- or, in Marie's case, the courage to accompany me."

"You must join us one of these days," Miss Horvàth said. "It would be ever so delightful to have another lady with me. My brother, I am sorry to say, is not much of a companion sometimes. He does not mean it, I am sure, but he simply does not take any interest in the things I want to talk about."

Theresia said something polite, without any intention to accept the invitation. She was convinced that the fault did not lie with the Lieutenant if Miss Horvàth thought his conversation lacking in spirit. She could understand his attitude very well -- she did not think Miss Horvàth capable of intelligent discussion.

Miss Horvàth rose, and after repeating her invitation to join her on a ride in the Prater "any day you like", she followed her mother to talk to some other friends of the family. Soon, Theresia's thoughts on the subject of Ilona Horvàth were interrupted by a young gentleman wishing to be introduced, and asking her to dance with him.

******

All in all, it was a pleasant evening; Carl thought when he went in search of his friend Horvàth. Miss Horvàth had sent him on this mission, accusing her brother of purposefully avoiding her all night.
He found Horvàth in the smoking room, playing billiards with some young officers of his regiment.

"So, this is where you are," Carl said. "Your sister sent me in search of you."

"My sister?" Horvàth asked. "What does she want?"

Carl shrugged. "I do not really know, but I suspect she wishes to introduce you to one of her friends."

"Right, this is it," Horvàth said. "Will you do me a favour? You see that window over there? Just place my horse beneath it, I need to escape."

Carl laughed. "Things can hardly be so bad," he said.

"You have no idea how bad it is. Ilona has made up her mind to find me a wife, and insists on introducing me to all her giggly stupid friends. I cannot stand the lot of them! There has to be an end to it!"

"You will never find yourself a wife if you are so rude with the ladies," Carl said with a grin.

"Are you my mother in disguise or what?" Horvàth asked, looking rather annoyed. "Listen, I think I am very well capable of looking after such matters myself, or do you think I look like someone who needs assistance?"

"No, not quite," Carl said.

"There you are. Now, you'd do me a huge favour if you just went and told my sister that I am nowhere to be found. Thank you very much."

Carl nodded, and went off in search of Miss Horvàth, trying to think of an excuse for his friend. He hoped that his sister would never feel the need to marry him off.

******

When the Hertenbergs went home that evening, both girls were very tired, but also very happy. Their first ball had been a success -- they had had partners for most dances, and most of those partners had been pleasant young men, so there was nothing left to be desired.

Though Theresia felt very tired, she could not go to sleep easily, she was still too full of energy to settle down calmly. Scenes from the ballroom were on her mind every time she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It had been such a wonderful evening, she was sure she would never forget it as long as she lived.

It was nearly five o'clock in the morning when she finally drifted off to sleep, still dancing in her dreams.

Part III

The following days were very busy. Many friends of the family came to call on the Hertenbergs, and some of the young men who had danced with Marie and Theresia at the ball were quite eager to further their acquaintance with them. Carl watched their proceedings with growing suspicion. He did not like the way things were developing. After all, he knew many of these men, and knew them well enough to be convinced that none of them was even remotely good enough for either of the girls. Carl hoped that the girls would share his opinion on this point -- but what he would do if they did not, was still a mystery to him. He could only try to trust his mother's -- and the girls' -- judgment, but that was hard.

Sometimes Carl envied Joseph. He acted as if the whole matter was none of his concern. He repeatedly assured Carl that he would look after the girls, but he refused to interfere with their lives without necessity. Probably this refusal had something to do with Joseph's own experience -- though Joseph did not admit it, Carl was certain that he still suffered from his parents' interference with his personal matters. As far as Carl knew, there had never been any woman that Joseph had thought worth his notice ever since Miss Grant had left -- and sometimes Carl suspected that Joseph kept away from women on purpose. His disappointment might have made Joseph unable -- or unwilling -- to fall in love ever again. Of course, Joseph would never confide in his brother, although Carl sometimes wished he would. Trying to sort out everything by oneself was no good -- no good at all.

So far, the only female company Joseph seemed to enjoy were the ladies in his own family, and no one seemed to object to it. Did the Baroness want her eldest son to remain single and lonely? Carl could not imagine such a thing.

******

One evening, the family were sitting in the music room after dinner. Theresia and Marie played the pianoforte, to show off some new piece they had learned, and afterwards they sat down with Carl and Joseph to play cards. The Baroness sat in her easy chair, doing her embroidery, but suddenly she said, "I quite forgot to tell you -- I had a letter from my sister this morning."

"Really? What does Aunt Macmillan write," Joseph asked, feigning interest.

"I do not know yet," the Baroness replied. "I was saving it for tonight, to read it to all of you. I shall just go and fetch it." With these words, she got up and left the room to get her letter, and Joseph gave an exasperated sigh. If there were an award for the worst correspondent in the world, Lady Macmillan would win it, he was certain. Her letters were extremely boring -- why should it concern him if an English pointer bitch had had a litter of six puppies? Why did Lady Macmillan assume that it was of any interest to them if her cook had tried a new recipe for strawberry and rhubarb jam? Though he was not acquainted with them, Joseph pitied his uncle and cousin Macmillan with all his heart. If Lady Macmillan was only half as dull as her letters, they suffered extremely.

The Baroness returned, opened her letter and started reading it aloud. Joseph did not pay much attention to her, until one particular sentence hit him with the force of lightning.

"Lately, I have had news from your protégée, your daughter's former governess ... Oh dear!"

Joseph was alert at once. "What about Miss Grant," he asked, breathlessly.

"Oh, nothing in particular," the Baroness said, trying to avoid Joseph's desperate look.

"What news? Bad news? Is she ill?" Joseph continued to ask. He was not going to give in -- if he had to wrestle the letter out of his mother's hand in order to find out the truth, he would not hesitate.

"I hope she is not unwell," Marie said calmly. "I would be exceedingly sorry to hear such a thing -- I have always been so fond of Miss Grant, you know. Tell me, Mama -- it is nothing bad, is it?"

"No, not at all," the Baroness said soothingly.

"So, what is it, Aunt," Theresia asked. "Surely there is no need to keep it secret."

Hesitatingly, and with a cautious look at Joseph, the Baroness went on.

"I have had news from your protégée, your daughter's former governess, news that will certainly delight you. She has got married recently..."

The Baroness paused until the girls' exclamations of surprise and delight died down. She looked at Joseph -- he was as white as a sheet.

"I am not well acquainted with her new husband, but I know he is a very amiable and intelligent gentleman, a widower with a son. Mr. Barnaby is highly respected by everyone who knows him, and will make her happy, no doubt. As far as I know, he owns an estate in Wiltshire -- not a very large one, but enough to provide Miss Grant with everything to make her life comfortable. She has done very well for herself, indeed. This is what my sister writes about Miss Grant."

The Baroness continued to read the remainder of the letter to them, but Joseph did not listen to what she said any more. As soon as he could, without raising suspicion, he excused himself, telling his family that he had an important business letter to write, and retreated into the library.

Fiona married! For two years, Joseph had worked hard to convince himself that he could live without her, that he did not miss her at all, that there were more important things than a marriage of love -- duty, for example, and family. Only one sentence had managed to unsettle his resolve again -- Fiona was married.

Of course she was, and Joseph was angry with himself for reacting on that piece of news the way he did. What had he expected her to do? That she would remain single and waste her life, crying her eyes out for him? That there would never be another man who might become aware of her beauty, her good humour, all those numerous qualities that she possessed? How could any man know her and NOT fall in love with her?

Hopefully her husband loved and appreciated her the way he ought to. Hopefully she had not simply married that man to have someone to provide for her...no, definitely not. Fiona had once told him about her sister's unhappy marriage, that it had been formed for entirely prudent reasons on both sides, and that it continued although none of the partners felt the slightest regard or respect for the other. She had told him that she would never consider such a thing, that her sister's state was a constant warning to her. No, Fiona would not have married for such reasons. Which only left one possible conclusion, and it hurt Joseph infinitely to think of it -- she must love the man whom she had married. Whoever this Mr. Barnaby was, Joseph envied him. Envied and hated him. The moment that man had put a wedding ring on Fiona's finger, Joseph's hope had died. It had been but a speck of hope, and he had not even been aware of it, but as long as Fiona had been unmarried, there had been a chance -- a diminutive one, but a chance nevertheless - that they might meet again one day and be able to start afresh. Now that hope was gone forever. It was time for Joseph to move on and get a life of his own. He would never have the chance to be happy with Fiona, but that did not mean that he would never be happy at all. Fiona had shown him the way -- if she could be content with someone else, so could he.

******

Some days later, Joseph asked Theresia and Marie if they wanted to accompany him on a ride in the Prater the next morning. Marie declined the offer, as it did not provide any particular enjoyment for her, but Theresia accepted the proposal most readily and seemed to be delighted by the prospect. The Baroness made no objection either, and so it was settled. Theresia had not had any proper outdoors exercise for days, which was why she was so looking forward to the outing with Joseph. She made sure to be ready in time, and only hoped that no unexpected morning caller would delay, or worse, prevent her going out. Luckily, no one did.

They set off in the direction of the park, followed only by a servant who was to tend to the horses, should they meet someone and be obliged to stop and dismount. The fresh morning air animated Theresia, and her mood improved every second. It was wonderful to be out in the city so early, and Theresia thoroughly enjoyed herself.

In good time, they reached the park, and since there were hardly any people there yet, they could gallop along the main avenue without having to watch out for pedestrians or other riders. The sun was shining brightly, and the birds were singing -- it was a typical spring morning, the sort of morning that made everyone feel happy and contented. However, Joseph looked rather gloomy and lost in thoughts, and Theresia wondered why that might be so.

When they arrived at one of Theresia's favourite spots in the park, she dismounted and decided to take a turn on foot. Joseph accompanied her, looking rather forlorn. Finally, Theresia resolved to ask him what the matter was.

"You are not very talkative today," she said, in an offhand manner.

"I am sorry," Joseph answered. "I admit I am not quite in the mood to be entertaining."

"I realised as much," Theresia said, smiling. "But it makes me wonder. What is wrong, Joseph?"

For a moment, Joseph considered telling Theresia the truth -- but only for a moment. Then he decided that she would not understand him, and said, quietly, "I wish I knew."

Theresia gave him an inquisitive look, but did not say anything.

"I was rather surprised last Saturday when Count Bàthory told me you were not fond of dancing," she remarked after they had walked in silence for a while. "I always thought you were."

"I used to be very fond of it, once," Joseph said.

"What has made you change your mind, Joseph," Theresia asked.

"Many things," Joseph said.

Theresia laughed. "What sort of an answer is this?"

"It is about as much of an answer as you can ever expect from me if you ask questions like this one," Joseph said, smilingly.

"Secrecy does not become you at all, Joseph," Theresia said teasingly. "Besides, if a gentleman refuses to answer questions, he gives way to the wildest speculations. Do you want me to speculate?"

"If it gives you pleasure, do so," Joseph said. "But do not forget to inform me of your speculations. I demand to have my share of the entertainment."

"Very well, then. I suspect that some young lady or other made you change your mind."

Joseph did not comment on that. Theresia's conjecture was too near the truth.

"It seems I have hit the nail on the head," Theresia said with an amused smile.

"I would by no means spoil your fun by telling you if your surmise is correct. It would deprive you of the chance for further speculation," Joseph said, turning to the servant and taking his horse's reins. "Now, what do you think about a race? Let us see who is at the park entrance first." Right now, he would do anything to divert Theresia from this rather dangerous topic.

"This is unfair, Joseph, you know I am not as good at riding as you are."

"Fine. To give you a fair chance, I will not start until you have reached that tree over there."

"What do I get if I win," Theresia asked, grinning.

"Whatever you want," Joseph answered.

"You must be pretty sure of yourself to make such a concession," Theresia said, laughing. "Such promises are quite dangerous -- how can you possibly guess what I might want?"

"Theresia, you are absolutely right. Realising the danger I am in, I will change my promise. I will ask you for a dance at the next ball we attend together, even though I am not fond of dancing in general. What do you say?"

"Deal," Theresia answered. "And if you win, I will give you a private concert tonight -- I will play to you whatever you choose." Theresia mounted her horse. "So you will not start until I have reached that tree over there?"

"No, I will not. Are you ready?"

Theresia nodded, and sped away in full gallop. Joseph watched her until she passed the tree, and then spurred his horse into a gallop, too. He gained on Theresia very fast, and was certain that he would overtake her any moment, when suddenly he saw someone step onto the main avenue from a side path just in front of him. In a desperate attempt to restrain his horse and avoid a collision, Joseph tugged at the reins -- but instead of slowing down, the horse shied and Joseph found himself lying on the ground the next moment.

Swearing in quite an un-gentlemanlike manner, Joseph tried to get up on his feet again and go after his horse -- only to realise that the sound of a breaking twig had, most likely, not been a twig at all, but his arm. It hurt like hell, and he was not able to lift it any more -- it had to be broken. One or two of his ribs were probably out of sorts, too. Every movement sent a flash of pain through his entire body, and breathing had suddenly become a painful affair.

The young man who had been the cause of his fall approached him at once, and Theresia, who had heard the neighing of Joseph's horse and had stopped right away, came running towards him, looking extremely scared.

"Did you hurt yourself, Joseph," she asked breathlessly, kneeling down next to him.

"I am fine -- I think," Joseph lied, not wishing to appear like a coward in front of a stranger. His expression betrayed him, however.

"I do not believe a single word, cousin," Theresia said. "Try to sit up, so I can have a closer look." She put her arm around his shoulder to support him, and Joseph made an effort to sit up, clenching his teeth.

"I am very sorry that this had to happen," the young man said. "I did not want that..."

Joseph sighed. "It was my own fault," he replied. "Don't blame yourself. This is not the place for horse-races, as I ought to have known ... aaargh! Careful, Theresia, that hurts!" Theresia had tried to pull him back on his feet, but it had not worked, she was too weak to do so.

"I think it would be better, Miss, if you just left your cousin as he is," the young man addressed Theresia. "If he faints, he might hurt himself even more in falling. It is much easier for you to tend to him sitting on the ground like that. -- Are you cold, sir?"

Before the stranger's question, Joseph had not been aware of his tremor, but now he realised that he was, indeed, shivering.

"A bit," he said. "Must be the shock."

Without much ado, the man took off his greatcoat and put it around Joseph's shoulder. "I see your servant has caught your horse, sir," he said. "Though I do not believe you will be able to mount it again -- with your permission, I will tell him to bring the horses back to their stables and fetch a surgeon to your house."

Joseph nodded.

"Fine. I will go and get a carriage for you," the young man said and rose.

"Please, sir, you cannot leave us here," Theresia said pleadingly. He gave her an amused look.

"I will be back in a few moments," he said. "We need a carriage to take your cousin home -- or do you have a better idea?"

"No," Theresia said, feeling rather stupid. "But...but what if he faints?"

"He will not faint, Miss," the man answered. "Just keep talking to him, that will make him remain conscious. If all else fails -- I am sure you have some smelling-salts about you, haven't you? Most ladies have." With a smile, he went away towards the park entrance. Theresia sighed.

"What a pity this outing had to end like that," she said quietly. "I should never have consented to that race."

"I should not have suggested it," Joseph said. "Do not make yourself uneasy, Theresia, this could have happened at any time or place, with or without you."

"How are you," Theresia asked anxiously. "Does it hurt much?"

"Very much," Joseph answered, finally giving up the notion of being heroic. "But I am sure it is nothing dangerous -- my arm is broken, I think, but that's it."

"Poor you!" Theresia exclaimed. "How did it happen?"

Joseph explained to her how the accident had happened, and soon they heard the sound of an approaching carriage. It was one of those cabs to be hired anywhere in Vienna, not very comfortable, but it would certainly do to bring the patient home.

"We need to fix your arm before we lift you into the carriage," their Samaritan said. "May I borrow your scarf, Miss?"

Theresia untied her neck-handkerchief and gave it to the stranger. He tied it around Joseph's neck and carefully placed Joseph's arm in the bow. Theresia could see in Joseph's eyes how much it hurt him, and she could hardly hold back her tears. It had been her fault, whatever Joseph had said...

With the help of the coachman, the young man managed to get Joseph into the carriage, and assisted Theresia in ascending it, too.

"How can we ever thank you enough, sir," she said to the stranger.

"There is no need to thank me, Miss," he replied with a shy smile. "Had it not been for me, the accident would not have occurred. I just did what everyone would have done, considering the circumstances. I will take the liberty of calling on the patient tomorrow, to see how he is doing."

"You are very welcome to do so, sir...do you know our address?"

"I do," he said, smiling. "I asked your servant for it."

"Oh...fine," Theresia stammered. There was something about the man that disconcerted her.

"Will you give us your name and address, sir," Joseph asked. "We could send you a message as soon as the doctor has been to see me."

"That would be very kind," the young man said. "My name is Simon Capellari, and my lodgings are in Domgasse -- though I will not be at home all day, I need to attend to some lectures at the University. Yet, I would be very much relieved to know if everything was fine, and I'd really appreciate a message."

*****

When Theresia and Joseph arrived at the Hertenberg Palais, they found the whole house in an uproar. It seemed that the servant who had been sent for a surgeon had grossly exaggerated when informing the Baroness of Joseph's accident, and had made her believe that she should consider herself very lucky, should she ever again see her son alive. Her relief in finding Joseph looking rather well in comparison to what she had expected was extreme.

Just as the carriage drew to a halt in front of the house, Carl, who had been sent for during the first moments of shock, arrived, and assisted the coachman and Joseph's valet in bringing the patient into the house. No one seemed to care much for Theresia, who alighted from the carriage and went into the house nearly unnoticed. Only Marie realised that Joseph was not the only one in need of attention and comfort, and urged Theresia to sit down in the drawing room and have a glass of wine. She asked Theresia what had happened, and listened patiently to her description of the events.

The account of Mr. Capellari's actions raised much curiosity on Marie's part, and her gratitude towards him made her more than eager to make his acquaintance.

"What sort of looking man is he," she asked.

"Oh, well...he is quite young...about Carl's age, I think," Theresia said. "And he is handsome -- as far as I could tell, that is, I did not pay too much attention to him. But you will see him yourself tomorrow -- he promised to call on Joseph to see how he is."

"I cannot wait to see him," Marie said. "We owe him so much. He must be very kind and agreeable, certainly."

"Certainly," Theresia agreed, though without much enthusiasm.

The door opened, and Carl came into the room.

"Has the doctor arrived," Theresia asked him anxiously. Carl nodded.

"Has he seen Joseph?"

"Yes, he has seen him," Carl answered. "I just came here to tell you that there is no need to worry about Joseph too much. His arm is broken, which is very painful and rather inconvenient, true, but things could be worse. There are some bruises, but none of his injuries are dangerous in any way. He will recover, though it will take some time."

"Thank God," Marie exclaimed. "Tell me, Carl, how is Mama?"

Carl smiled reassuringly. "Once the doctor had convinced her that there is no danger to Joseph's life, she was well again. She has just expressed her resolve to nurse Joseph day and night."

Theresia smiled. "How is Joseph at the moment," she asked.

"The doctor gave him some medicine to send him off to sleep," Carl said. "He said it would be the best thing to relieve the pain for a while."

"Poor Joseph," Marie said feelingly. "I hope he will get better soon."

"So he will," Carl said with a confident smile.

*****

It was very difficult for Theresia to go to sleep that night. Whenever she closed her eyes, she had the scene in the Prater before her -- Joseph lying on the ground, obviously hurt, and her own helplessness in this situation. She shuddered at the thought of what could have happened to Joseph, and also to Mr. Capellari -- what if Joseph had not reacted so quickly? It was not to be imagined...

Somehow, Mr. Capellari had managed to make a lasting impression on her -- his calmness in a situation that had been so much more dangerous for him than it had been for her, and his readiness to help, without reproach, without an unkind word, actually apologizing for having been where he had had the perfect right to be ... Mr. Capellari was certainly an interesting kind of man, and Theresia sincerely hoped that she would be able to get better acquainted with him. Hopefully he would come to see Joseph very often.

Part IV

Baroness von Hertenberg lost no time in trying to find out as much as possible about her son's "saviour". When it came to acquiring information, the Baroness was unbeatable, and so, before the day was over, she knew that Simon Capellari was a most desirable acquaintance to make.

Though he was not rich at the moment, he had a wealthy great-uncle whose sole heir he was. That great-uncle lived a very secluded life on his estate near Graz in the province of Styria, and was known to be rather eccentric -- old age had made him despise all those pleasures in life he had enjoyed when he had been younger, and therefore he demanded that his nephew led a blameless life devoted to study. To which Simon Capellari most willingly complied, knowing that any act of disobedience on his part might end in his uncle's leaving his entire fortune to the Church, as he had threatened to do more than once. It was not as if Simon Capellari was greedy, but the expectation of leading a comfortable life with a sizeable fortune did appeal to him, and it was his decided opinion that the Church was already rich enough, even without his uncle's inheritance.

Simon Capellari was not often seen at the haunts of the upper classes, being of a rather shy disposition. If, however, he chose to mix with polite society, everyone was full of praise for his amiability and good sense. He was said to be a sensible young man, well read, fond of art, literature and music.
Thus prepared for a meeting with Mr. Capellari, Baroness von Hertenberg eagerly awaited his visit, determined to receive him cordially and encourage further acquaintance. Even if he had not been who he was, the service he had rendered her son would have indebted her to him, but as it was, she felt a strong inclination to make him a regular guest in her household.

When Mr. Capellari was shown into the Hertenbergs' drawing room, he found the Baroness and two young ladies, each employed with their usual morning tasks. He looked rather uneasy, finding himself alone with three ladies, Theresia thought.

"Sir, I am happy to make your acquaintance," the Baroness said, smiling at him in a most welcoming manner.

Mr. Capellari bowed, and made his apologies at intruding the Baroness's privacy at such an early hour.

The Baroness told him that she did not at all regard his visit as an intrusion, and continued by introducing Mr. Capellari to the young ladies. Even though she knew that Theresia had already met him, she did insist on strictest decorum in that case. Mr. Capellari exchanged a few pleasantries with the ladies, before he stated the purpose of his visit.

"May I enquire, Madam, how the Baron is feeling today?"

"My son is already feeling better, sir, thank you very much for the inquiry," the Baroness answered. "Unfortunately he sees himself unfit for company still -- he says the medicine the doctor gave him yesterday has a rather disagreeable effect on him ... he wishes me to make his apologies for not being able to come downstairs to meet you."

Mr. Capellari assured her that he did not mind at all, as he had not expected the Baron to be well enough to see him already. "I came here to inquire after him, as I promised to do yesterday, but I had no notion of his already being able to receive any visitors," he said.

"Mr. Capellari," the Baroness said, "we are going to have some friends to dine with us tomorrow. Would you do us the honour of joining the party? My son made a particular point of inviting you."

With a grateful smile, Mr. Capellari accepted the invitation, and soon after that he took his leave.

"What a pleasant, well-behaved young man this is," the Baroness said to the girls. "Just as I had imagined him!"

Theresia, who was rather disappointed that he had not paid her any more notice than he had done, did not say much but returned her attention to her embroidery, while Marie joined her mother in the praise of Mr. Capellari.

******

The dinner engagement the Baroness had mentioned had been formed at the spring ball, where she had invited the Horvàths and Count Bàthory to dine with her. At first, when she had heard of Joseph's accident, she had wanted to cancel it, but Joseph did not want to hear of it. He had said that he would not feel any more comfortable in bed than anywhere else, and that an evening with his friends would do very well to cheer him up -- he had only asked her to extend the invitation to Mr. Capellari, which had been very much like the Baroness's own wishes.

The guests all arrived rather early, probably out of curiosity to see how Baron von Hertenberg did. Joseph was not one to keep his guests waiting, and joined them at once, apologising for the sloppiness of his attire. It was, of course, not possible for a young gentleman with a broken arm to dress as flawlessly as usual, and since everyone was aware of that, no one made an objection.

Upon being entreated to tell the tale of his accident once again, Joseph readily submitted. The ladies listened with horror, expressing their pity for Joseph again and again. The gentlemen were not so easily impressed. Mr. Capellari, who had witnessed the accident, kept silent, and Count Bàthory was rather indignant that such an accident actually could have happened.

"If any of my horses tried such a trick on me, I would have it shot," he said determinedly. This statement greatly annoyed Lt. Horvàth, who demanded to know what the poor animal had been supposed to do. Shooting the horse would only mean to punish the animal for its rider's stupid mistake, and any man ready to do such a ghastly thing was not worthy of sitting on such a noble beast's back.

Such was the Lieutenant's frankly expressed opinion, and it took Joseph some effort to restore the peace between his own friend and his brother's. He said that he, himself, had felt like shooting his horse while lying on the ground in the Prater, but that he had, meanwhile, had enough time to reflect on that matter, and had to agree with Lt. Horvàth.

Once this matter was resolved, the Hertenbergs and their guests returned to their evening's amusement, and only Miss Horvàth seemed to resent her brother's comment on Count Bàthory. She repeatedly cast angry looks at him, which he chose to ignore.

******

"Tell me, Miss von Laudeck, shall we hear some of your playing tonight," Miss Horvàth asked Theresia when the ladies were in the drawing room by themselves.

"If you want me to, I shall play," Theresia said indifferently and added, politely, "but I hoped to hear you, as well." In fact, Miss Horvàth's playing or not playing was a matter of infinite indifference to Theresia, but one had to endure her presence for the evening, and one might as well make the best of it.

Miss Horvàth laughed. "I have an idea," she said, smiling.

Theresia doubted it could be much of an idea, but she smiled encouragingly and said, "What idea, Miss Horvàth?"

"I was wondering if we might sing a duet."

"A duet," Theresia said blankly.

"A duet. Now would that not be fun?"

"Do you have anything in particular in mind, Miss Horvàth," Theresia asked. "Any particular song, I mean?"

"Oh, anything will do," Miss Horvàth answered. So much for musicality, Theresia thought. All she wants is to show off, and anything will do. Very well, let her have it.

"What do you say to Mozart? My aunt is so fond of him ... Aprite presto aprite from Le nozze di Figaro?"

Now if that is not enough for showing off, I do not know, Theresia thought.

Miss Horvàth hesitated. "This a bit too fast for my taste," she confessed.

For your taste, or for your abilities, Theresia thought.

"So you would prefer something slower?" she said, sweetly. "What about Canzonetta sull'aria?"

"I have never sung that one," Miss Horvàth said. "But I think we could try it -- if you can be prevailed on singing it with me."

"I would hardly have suggested it, Miss Horvàth, had I not wished to sing it with you. Which part would you prefer -- the Contessa or Susanna?"

"Which one are you used to sing," Miss Horvàth asked.

"I usually sing Susanna," Theresia said. "Signora Giovanelli usually sings the Contessa ... it was the last great part she had when she was still performing on stage."

"Oh dear," Miss Horvàth said, smiling. "I will hardly be able to sing well enough to match Signora Giovanelli's excellence ... I have never heard her, but my mother told me that Signora Giovanelli was the best opera singer she'd ever heard."

Theresia laughed. "It can hardly be a reason to be ashamed if we are not as good as Signora Giovanelli. We are singing for our pleasure, while she sings to make her living, and spends much more time practising than we will ever do. And yes, I do believe she is the best singer that ever lived. -- Will you follow me to the music room? We shall take our time to practise until the gentlemen join us."

While practising, Theresia found out that Miss Horvàth was not without talent. Her voice was of a very nice sort, and though she had certainly not spent so much time practising as Theresia had, she sang very well. This raised Miss Horvàth in her esteem -- though only a bit. Theresia did not know when her animosity towards Miss Horvàth had started, or what had caused it, but there it was, and it was hard to get rid of. Not even Miss Horvàth's efforts to be friendly with her could change anything about it -- rather the reverse. Theresia would have preferred if Miss Horvàth had not been so nice with her, so that she might loathe her without having to feel guilty for it.

Their performance was applauded enthusiastically, and for the first time that evening Mr. Capellari seemed to take notice of Theresia's presence -- so far practising half an hour with Miss Horvàth had been worth it, Theresia thought. Since Miss Horvàth was most ready to take all the praise for herself, Theresia sat down next to Marie, indulging in visions of Miss Horvàth singing for a large audience and being unable to hit one single note. It was a healing experience, that sort of thing...even if one knew that these visions would never come true, anyway.

Mr. Capellari's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You look disappointed, Miss von Laudeck," he said earnestly.

"Disappointed?" Theresia gave a short laugh. "You are mistaken, sir. I have no reason to be disappointed."

"No?" Mr. Capellari looked at her questioningly. "I had the impression...but I must be mistaken, if you say so. Your talent is remarkable, Miss von Laudeck."

Theresia blushed. "Thank you, sir."

"Your cousin told me you studied with Signora Giovanelli."

"This is true, sir."

"Tell me, what is she like? I have heard a great deal about her, but I have never been so fortunate as to make her acquaintance. That is, I have seen her several times, but I never had the chance to talk to her."

Theresia told Mr. Capellari about her teacher, and in her eagerness to praise Signora Giovanelli she quite forgot everything around her. Mr. Capellari was the sort of man who not only appeared to listen, but was a very attentive listener. Nothing seemed to be as important to him as Theresia's narrative.

Carl watched them from the other side of the room.

"I wonder why she is talking to that idiot for such a long time," he said to Horvàth, grumpily.

Horvàth raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Idiot? Capellari does not look like an idiot to me."

"Hanging around Theresia like that..." Carl growled.

"Ah, so a man's noticing Miss von Laudeck's charms qualifies him for idiocy, does it? " Horvath asked, grinning mischievously. "I am sorry to say it, von Hertenberg, but I do not think that he is the problem. The problem is yours, and its name starts with a J."

"J?" Carl said, clueless.

"Now who's the idiot in here, von Hertenberg," Horvàth asked, laughingly.

Suddenly, Horvàth's meaning dawned on Carl. "Jealousy? You think I am jealous? Me? Jealous? Why should I?"

"Don't you think it is easier for you to answer that question," Horvàth asked.

"Horvàth, you are on a completely wrong track. I am just ... worried, that is all."

"Are you? Very well then, you are the best judge in such matters, no doubt," Horvàth said with a grin that Carl did not quite like. It was the grin of a friend who did not believe a single word one said. Perhaps it would be a good idea to leave Horvàth to his conjectures and pay more attention to Marie? He heard Theresia and Marie laugh, as if Capellari had told them something very amusing. Perhaps he'd better go and sit with Miss Horvàth, Joseph and Count Bàthory. At least then Horvàth would not be able to accuse him of wishing to interfere with Capellari's designs. Jealous, indeed!

*****

When the guests left that evening, Theresia felt quite content on the whole. For the first time someone had given her considerable attention, and had seemed to take her seriously, too. Mr. Capellari had turned out to be just the sort of man she liked -- he was kind, and charming, though a bit shy, but that made him only more interesting. He took interest in the same things as she did. When the Baroness had invited him to join the family at the theatre the next day, and he had accepted the invitation, Theresia had hardly been able to hide her pleasure.

Carl had watched this with growing concern. He did not like Capellari, although if anyone had asked him why, he would not have been able to give a sufficient answer. He just did not like him, there was this nagging feeling that something about Capellari was not quite right...yet he was nice enough, and seemed harmless. Perhaps he would improve on closer acquaintance. Carl was willing to give Capellari a fair chance.

Part V

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus... It was Sunday morning, and the Hertenbergs were attending the Mass in St Stephen's. Theresia, however, was not quite able to follow the priest's proceedings. She was much too busy searching the congregation for a certain face. Mr. Capellari lived in Domgasse, which was practically next door to St Stephen's; certainly he would go to church there. However, she was not able to find him in the crowd, and her aunt began to notice that Theresia did not concentrate on what was going on at the altar. She had to restrain herself, feeling rather disappointed. It would have been nice meeting him here, she thought, even though she would see him in the evening, anyway.

You're completely mad, she thought. Why should it make any difference to you where Mr. Capellari is? Theresia became quite angry with herself. If she went on behaving like that, someone might believe she was in love with Mr. Capellari. Which was definitely not true -- she only happened to like him. Too bad she could not look behind her to look for him, that would have been too obvious. Carl would never stop teasing her if she did. No, one had to keep one's dignity at all means.

When the mass was finished, the family left the cathedral and Carl excused himself immediately. He had "just remembered an important meeting". Theresia had to suppress a grin. Her cousin was eager to keep up pretences, even if everyone knew -- and Carl knew that they did -- that he was actually going to his favourite coffee house to spend an hour or two playing billiards with Lieutenant Horvàth and some other worthless young men. Not that Horvàth was worthless, but the others were.

The rest of the family went home immediately. Joseph, though he had insisted on going to church, was now rather fatigued and in need of some rest. The Baroness looked at him anxiously. She had asked him to stay at home, but he had refused to do so -- "anyone able to sit up late with one's friends is also able to go to church on Sundays", he had said. On the whole, he did not much listen to his mother's entreaties to take care of himself. His injury had been treated by an excellent surgeon, and now it was merely a bit of an inconvenience, but nothing more. Joseph refused to be treated as an invalid. This became quite obvious during lunch, when his mother suggested his going to Baden* and spending the summer there to recuperate.

"Baden?" Joseph asked, looking at his mother as if she had gone completely mad. "Why should I go there?"

"It would do your health a world of good," the Baroness replied.

"I can assure you, Mother, that the same effect can be achieved by my going to Hertenberg, which is what I am planning to do."

"This will not do, Joseph. In Hertenberg, you will be busy all day, and you will not look after yourself properly. I know you, you are not the sort of man to be idle."

"Quite so, and this is why I am not going to go to Baden. I despise the place."

"You have never been there, Joseph," the Baroness said calmly. "You cannot despise a place without knowing it."

"Yes, I can. I can do so very easily."

"Joseph, you are being unreasonable. At the moment you sound like a very stubborn ten-year-old. You never behaved like that when you were ten. This sort of behaviour is more like Carl."

"Thank you very much, Mother," Carl remarked dryly.

"Oh, do not be offended, Carl. I did not mean you acted like that now. You used to be quite stubborn as a boy, though," the Baroness said.

"I am glad to hear that my behaviour has improved since then," Carl said sulkily.

"Not much," Theresia said, grinning.

"Not much? What is that supposed to mean?" Carl asked furiously.

"It means that you have improved, but not much," Theresia said, not at all impressed with Carl's rising temper.

"You did not even know me when I was a boy," Carl protested.

"If your temper was anything like it was when you were nineteen, I am glad I did not," Theresia retorted. "Though, coming to think of it, it might have been a blessing if I had. Look at my brother Martin -- he used to be quite well-behaved, but the moment I left home he got out of hand."

"I see -- so you came here to perfect my good manners, did you?" Carl asked testily.

"Exactly, and I am still working on it," Theresia said with a mischievous smile. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Could the two of you just stop your banter for a while," the Baroness asked, sharply, and turned to her eldest son again. "Joseph, believe me, Baden will be excellent for you. I went there once, and it made me feel a great deal better than I had felt before. I only want the best for you, Joseph."

"Mother, a broken arm will heal no matter where I spend my summer. I would much rather go to Hertenberg. There is so much to do. Who is to do all the work while I am away wasting my time in Baden?"

"Will you consider it, at least?" The Baroness gave her son a pleading look. That was the moment when Joseph realised that he would go. Like his father, he was nearly unable to refuse his mother anything. She would not leave the matter at that, Joseph knew that. She would refer to it again and again. To give himself a break, he simply said, "I will think about it, yes. Can we talk about something else, in the meantime?"
He would not give in too soon -- if he did tell her now, he would lose his face, which he did not want.

Baroness von Hertenberg was wise enough to leave the topic for a while. She knew there was no use in pushing Joseph. If he said he would give his journey to Baden some thought, he would. All she had to do was wait -- and perhaps drop a hint now and then.

******

Even though the Baroness had decided to let the topic rest in Joseph's presence, this did not prevent her from making plans, as Carl found out after lunch. She asked him to join her in the drawing room, since she had a matter of importance to talk about. Carl, wondering what this "matter of importance" might be, followed her readily.

"Joseph seems to worry more about Hertenberg than is good for him," the Baroness said.

"Well, he takes his duties very seriously," Carl replied, warily. "You should be glad he does take care of the estate, instead of simply wasting his inheritance."

"Indeed I am," the Baroness said. "Only, sometimes I get the feeling that he does not enjoy his life the way he ought to. One is only young once, Carl, and one ought to enjoy it while one can. Did you not notice that he hardly ever goes into company of his own accord? This is worrying me, Carl."

"What can I do about that, Mother," Carl asked. "Do you want me to talk to him? You know exactly that Joseph does not really listen to my opinions."

The Baroness sighed. "I just thought that he would be more inclined to listen to my advice and go to Baden if there were someone to take over his duties at Hertenberg during his absence."

"And you want me to be that someone," Carl said. "Listen, Mother, this is not that easy. I cannot tell if I will be able to go there anyway -- what if my regiment keeps me in Vienna? I do have obligations of my own, you know."

"I know," the Baroness admitted. "Carl, I can deal with Hertenberg myself, but there are some tasks a woman cannot take into her hands. All I ask of you is to deal with these while Joseph is gone."

"Do you mean to say that he has changed his mind about Baden already?"

"No, he has not," the Baroness said. "I do think, however, that he would consent more readily if he knew that Hertenberg is well taken care of."

Carl was not so certain about that. He knew how much Hertenberg meant to his brother -- this had always been the place where he had been happy, and running the place had been his way of proving himself. Joseph would not be pleased with the notion that someone else could do his work as well as himself. No one liked the idea of being replaceable.

"I must confess I have other motives as well, not simply Joseph's health. Of course, his well-being is foremost in my thoughts, but...I do think he secludes himself from society too much," the Baroness continued. "I am certain that meeting new people would do him good. You cannot deny that Baden is just the place for such a purpose."

"Mother, if he does not manage to meet new people in Vienna, how will he contrive to do so in Baden?" Carl asked.

"Oh, he will meet all sorts of people there," the Baroness replied. "I did, when I went there...coming to think of it, I did not at all like the idea of going there, either, when your father suggested it to me. Leaving her two young children behind is not an appealing thought for a mother. " Baroness von Hertenberg smiled sadly. "Your father really had to put his foot down. He was so worried about me at that time, he was willing to take any measure just to see me get well."

"When did you go to Baden, Mother? I cannot remember it," Carl said.

"Of course you cannot, Carl. You were too young then. It was shortly after you were born -- you were scarcely three months old when I left. -- Anyway, I have my reasons for wishing Joseph to go to Baden. "

Carl laughed. "Do you not think that Baden has changed in those more than twenty years?"

"Places like Baden never change much," the Baroness said determinedly. " Joseph will go there, and if I have to drag him there myself. Now, will you help me to run Hertenberg or will you not, Carl?"

Carl did not like the idea of plotting against Joseph behind his back, and he told his mother so. But he also told her that he would assist her, should Joseph ask him to -- which was an acceptable compromise.

******

Theresia was watching the maid doing her hair. Marie, who was already finished with getting dressed, was sitting on Theresia's bed watching the procedure critically.

"Are you looking forward to the theatre," she asked Theresia.

"Very much so," Theresia answered. "And so do you."

Marie laughed. "How do you know?"

"It is obvious. Besides, I know you have always been fond of seeing a play, so why should tonight be an exception?"

"Why indeed?" Marie smiled. She had her suspicions concerning Theresia and her newly acquired fondness for the theatre -- she had once called the reading of a play "tedious". Of course one had to allow for the play not being read but acted on stage -- but Marie doubted that Theresia would notice a great deal of what would be happening on stage. Ever since she had met Mr. Capellari for the first time, Theresia had lost no opportunity of speaking of him -- or speaking to him. Only this morning, she had spent half an hour recalling the past evening and wondering if he would be on time in the evening. This was not normal -- at least not for Theresia's standards.

"You look so thoughtful," Theresia said. "Are you worried about something?"

Marie shook her head. "No, I am not," she said. "I was just thinking."

"It must have been something dreadful that made you look at me so sadly," Theresia said with a laugh.

"Not at all dreadful," Marie said, smiling. Yet, how else could one describe the feeling one had when one was afraid of losing one's best friend? If Theresia fell in love with Mr. Capellari -- Marie did not doubt his falling in love with Theresia, how could any man resist her -- if they married -- what was to become of her? Marie would stay behind, all by herself. Not a cheering notion, really, Marie thought. In a way, the idea was dreadful.

******

Mr. Capellari was already waiting for their arrival in the vestibule when the Hertenbergs arrived at the theatre. The Baroness greeted him warmly, as did Theresia. Carl was a bit more reserved, and had anyone asked him, he would have declared that he would feel much more comfortable, had Capellari not been around. He noticed that Marie, too, was rather aloof, which was not at all her usual behaviour. Perhaps she shared his opinion of Capellari -- it would probably not do any harm if he asked her. Not now, of course, that was not possible -- he had to wait for a moment when Theresia was not around.

The first act of "William Tell" went by quite fast, and during the break Carl left the box to meet a friend of his whom he had spied in a box opposite theirs. At least, this was his explanation, but the real reason was that he did not want to spend more time with Capellari than necessary. That man was just too good to be true -- the sort of guy Carl had despised back in school. The sort who had always been the teacher's darling, a model student, the sort whom every boy in his right mind had avoided. The sort whom he had beaten up more than once and with the greatest pleasure, Carl thought with a grim smile. Perhaps Capellari would require the same treatment one day? If so, Carl would not hesitate applying it.

"Now if that is not a Hertenberg face I do not know," someone exclaimed. Carl turned around and found himself facing the very last man he had expected to meet in Vienna.

General Hardegg -- his father's best friend. That was what he had used to be, for years. In their days of youth, Carl's father and Hardegg had been inseparable. Then they both had married, and had met less frequently, but still they had remained good friends. Hardegg had settled in Vienna, just as Joseph von Hertenberg had. Then Countess Hardegg had died, leaving behind a young son, the same age as Carl, and an inconsolable husband. Alexander Hardegg, Count Hardegg's son, had spent several months with the Hertenberg family, to "allow the poor boy to recover from his loss", as Carl's father had explained the matter to his children. Both Baron and Baroness von Hertenberg had made considerable efforts to comfort father and son. But at one point, nobody knew why, Count Hardegg had packed his things, picked up his son and had left Vienna. From that day on, the Hertenberg family had only heard from them sporadically. Now, Count Hardegg -- General Hardegg -- was back, and was standing there, beaming at Carl as if nothing at all had happened.

"General," Carl said stiffly, saluting.

General Hardegg laughed. "Stop that nonsense," he said. "I am your godfather, for Heaven's sake! You do look very much like your father, has anyone ever told you?"

"Many people have," Carl said. "Welcome back in Vienna, sir. I did not know you were here."

"One more sir and you are in for trouble. You used to call me uncle once," Hardegg said.

"True," Carl admitted. "But that was a long time ago. It would hardly be appropriate here and now. How long have you been in town?"

"I only arrived the day before yesterday. Too much to do to think of anything else but moving in. Your mother is well, I hope?" Hardegg looked at Carl with an expectant smile.

"Very well, thank you. She is here tonight, if you want to see her..."

That moment, the bell rang to remind the audience that the next act would begin in a moment.

Hardegg smiled. "Too bad," he said. "I will have to join my friends in their box again. Some other time, perhaps. As soon as I have settled in, I will call on her. Will you be so good as to give her my compliments?"

Carl nodded, and went back to his family's box. General Hardegg. What the heck was he doing here? Why had he not stayed in Linz?

******

The news of General Hardegg being in town came unexpected for all the family. Theresia, who was not familiar with the General's connection with them, was eager to hear more, as was Marie. She distinctly remembered "Uncle Hardegg", and she remembered Alexander Hardegg, her childhood friend.

"Did Count Hardegg tell you anything about Alexander," was one of the first questions she asked her brother.

"No, he did not mention him," Carl answered.

"Did he say anything about his reasons for being back in town?" the Baroness asked.

"Nothing at all, Mother. He just said that he had come back the day before yesterday, and that he would call on you as soon as he had settled in. He asked me to give you his compliments."

The Baroness looked grave.

"Why did he leave Vienna in the first place," Theresia asked.

"I do not know," Carl said. "Do you, Mother?"

"I do have a vague idea, yes," the Baroness replied. "I think it had to do with his wife's death, among other things. He just did not want to live here any more."

"What a sad story," Theresia said. The Baroness seemed to share her opinion, but was determined to change the topic.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing the play they had seen, and no one touched the subject of the Hardeggs any more. Theresia could not stop thinking of them. When would they come to call on her aunt? She could hardly wait to meet them. There was something mysterious about them -- something appealing.

******

The next day, Horvàth sent Carl a note and asked him to meet him at their favourite coffee house, as he had some important news to relate. Carl wondered what it might be, and therefore was already at the café half an hour before their appointment. Horvàth arrived punctually, with a satisfied grin in his face.

"So, what is the grand news that cannot not wait until tomorrow," Carl asked, the moment Horvàth had seated himself.

"Patience, dear friend, patience," Horvàth answered. "Won't you buy me a drink?"

"Are you broke or what," Carl asked. "You really ought to reduce your gaming, you know."

"Yes, Mama, I will," Horvàth said. "Actually, I am not at all broke, I just thought you would like to celebrate with me."

"Is there any particular cause for a celebration?"

"In a way, there is," Horvàth answered, taking a letter out of his pocket and handing it to Carl. Carl only needed to have a look at the seal to know its meaning.

"You finally got your promotion."

"Right, and it was about time. So, what about that drink you are going to buy me?"

Carl laughed. "Had you told me right away, Captain Horvàth, that drink would already be on the table. It is your own fault, you know."

"I will remember it, should I die of thirst in here," Horvàth answered.

"That would be the first known case of an Austrian army captain dying of thirst," Carl said dryly, indicating to the waiter that he wished to place an order. The waiter started to move slowly towards their table. It could only be a matter of hours until they got something to drink.

After having emptied a bottle of wine together, Carl and Horvàth decided to go to another place -- one of those places where several of their brother officers were be found. Celebration was fine, but the larger the company was, the more fun it would be.

******

Why the heck do I have to have those hangovers all the time, Carl thought the next morning, already regretting having "celebrated" with Horvàth nearly all night. Life was unfair. Why was it that some men -- like Horvàth -- could stay up all night drinking the bl**dy wine cellar dry without feeling as much as a slight headache the next morning, when others - like Carl himself -- had to pay for every drink they had with a day of suffering of the worst kind? They said the Lord was merciful -- so where were His thunderbolts when they were needed? At the moment, the idea of being struck dead by lightning was especially appealing.

His mother did not pay the least attention to Carl's sufferings. She had started another attempt at getting Joseph to travel to Baden, and today Joseph did not seem as averse to the notion as he had been yesterday. Why could they not wait with their argument until Carl was gone? And why did women have such shrill voices sometimes? Carl's mood had not been the best when he had woken up, but by now it had reached its lowest point. Someone would have to suffer today. If he could not get hold of Horvàth, it would have to be Novacek. Which was certainly unfair, but today Carl did not care about fairness at all. Life was not fair, after all. If it were, Horvàth would feel just as rotten as he did.

"What do you think, Carl," Joseph asked him. "Do you think I ought to go to Baden?"

"Oh yes, please do," Carl said grumpily. "Or we shall never hear the end of it."

Joseph gave him a sharp look. "Listen, Carl," he said. "If you cannot hold your drink, you ought to stop drinking. Do not take your hangovers out on us, do you hear?"

Carl, realising that he had been extremely rude, and had hurt his mother, apologised.
"I'd better leave," he said, quietly, and left them to discuss the matter by themselves. If only they would come to a conclusion -- the sooner, the better. Perhaps Joseph would give in.

******

"Carl said he would take over Hertenberg while I am gone?" Joseph said disbelievingly. "Does he know what he is doing?"

"Of course he does," the Baroness said. "Carl and I will take the responsibility for Hertenberg until you return, Joseph. Now that this problem is off your hands, you will go to Baden, will you not?"

Joseph sighed. "Mother, I told you repeatedly that I did not want to go. Why do you insist?"

"I simply think it will do you good. Cannot a mother wish the best for her children?"

There was a pause. The Baroness knew that Joseph would give in now. He had run out of arguments against the journey, there was nothing else for him to do but go. Her last comment, the Baroness admitted to herself, had not been fair -- it got pretty near to the edge of emotional blackmail. If it worked, however, that would be worth it. It was Joseph's advantage that she had in her mind, after all. She gained nothing by sending him away -- except that he would not be able to work as much as he had done in the past two years. He would have time to relax. He would meet new people. His injuries would heal. In the Baroness's opinion, Baden represented the solution to each of Joseph's problems -- if he would but go there.

"When do you want me to leave," Joseph interrupted her musings.

"You will go, then?"

"I shall have to, since everybody wants me to," Joseph answered. He did not sound happy.

"You will like it very much, Joseph, believe me," the Baroness assured him. Joseph gave a short, bitter laugh. "I asked you when you wanted me to leave," he said.

"Not before we leave for Hertenberg," the Baroness replied. "That is in three weeks."

Joseph gave a short nod, and left the room. It was time to prepare himself for an unwanted journey.

******

*Baden was the Austrian equivalent to Bath. It was a fashionable spa throughout the 18th and 19th century, and even the Imperial family spent their summers there.

Part VI

A few days later, Marie asked Theresia if she wanted to join her on a walk to the bookshop. Marie wanted to have a look at the latest publications, buy some books for Joseph, and besides she wanted to talk to Theresia and find out more about her feelings for Mr. Capellari. Theresia's happy smile when Mr. Capellari had seated himself next to her in the theatre had not escaped Marie's notice. Neither had Mr. Capellari's special attention to Theresia. He had been very polite with her, no doubt, but his principal interest lay with Theresia.

Marie was quite determined to find out in how far Theresia was interested in Mr. Capellari -- and knowing that Theresia would hardly confide in her at home, when their private discourse was most likely to be disturbed any moment by somebody or other, Marie had high hopes that she might successfully introduce the topic to Theresia during their walk.

On their way, they passed a millinery shop, and Theresia, to Marie's great dismay, wanted to go inside to have a closer look at a bonnet she had seen in the shop window. Theresia liked shopping for clothes, Marie did not. It was not that Theresia was, according to her own description, a "fashion puppet", but she did care about what she wore, and was always informed as to the newest fashions and styles -- whether she followed them or simply made fun of them.
That particular bonnet had caught Theresia's eye and was therefore worthy of being purchased -- Theresia's decisions were always made very quickly. Marie could do nothing but follow Theresia into the shop with a martyr-like expression. At least this would give her an opportunity to tease Theresia into a confession. A simple allusion to Theresia's wish to appear to utmost advantage in order to please a certain gentleman might do, Marie thought with a grin.

However, Marie did not need to use that manoeuvre in the end. The topic she wanted to talk about arose quite naturally when they met Mr. Capellari in the bookshop. He recognised them the moment they entered the shop, came towards them and greeted them politely. Marie could discern a slight blush and a shy smile in Theresia's face. Shy. Theresia had never been shy, so why now?

"My brother has asked me to make some purchases for him," Marie said, answering Mr. Capellari's question as to their purpose. "He says he has too much time on his hands at the moment and might as well use it to improve his mind."

"Ever since I had the pleasure of being acquainted with your brother I have had a high opinion of his good sense, Miss von Hertenberg. Does he wish for anything in particular?"

"Oh yes, he gave me a list, and I must endeavour to get all these books -- it looks as if he wants to shut himself up all summer. He does not care much for the company Baden has to offer, I am afraid."

Mr. Capellari laughed. "May I see the list, Miss von Hertenberg?"

"Why, certainly," Marie answered, and handed the list to Mr. Capellari, wondering when Theresia might stop giving monosyllabic answers -- or no answers at all -- to Mr. Capellari's remarks and start being herself again. Mr. Capellari read through the list, sometimes commenting on the items written on it, and finally handed the piece of paper back to Marie.

"Baron von Hertenberg is obviously not only a man of sense, but also a man of taste," he said. "I do not think you will face any difficulty in procuring the books mentioned, Miss von Hertenberg. What about you, Miss von Laudeck," he said, turning to Theresia. "Have you, too, come here in the quest of literature? Did our conversation in the theatre the other day inspire you to give Schiller's plays a fair trial?"

Theresia laughed. "Sir, I may well be here in search of a good book," she said. "However, I am not at all fond of reading plays, and I will not even take it up for Schiller's sake."

"Not fond of reading plays?" Mr. Capellari asked, with a smile. "Not even Shakespeare, then?"

"Shakespeare is, perhaps, the only exception," Theresia said, smiling. "Unfortunately, none of our German poets can match him, neither in genius nor wit."

"This is a harsh verdict, Miss von Laudeck. What can I do to convince you of its injustice?"

"Take up writing, perhaps?" Theresia said, laughingly.

"I take this as a tremendous compliment," Mr. Capellari said, with a smile. "However, I am afraid it is as ill justified as your judgment of our poor German poets. I have no talent for poetry. If I took up writing, it would only make your judgment more severe than ever. I shall stick to the Law, if you do not mind."

"Not at all, sir. Everyone should try to do well in what they feel most comfortable with," Theresia said. "I can easily forgive people for not being excellent in occupations they have no talent for."

"I am glad to hear it, Miss von Laudeck."

Marie, having settled business with one of the assistants, approached Theresia and Mr. Capellari and urged Theresia to go. Mr. Capellari, after having asked to be remembered to the Baron and Baroness von Hertenberg, took his leave, and Marie and Theresia directed their steps homewards. Marie decided to ask Theresia directly.

"You like Mr. Capellari very much, don't you?"

"I do," Theresia answered, curtly.

"How much do you like him," Marie asked.

With a sigh, Theresia said, "I do not know, Marie. It is ... difficult, you know."

"Difficult in what way?"

"Difficult because I just do not know what is happening to me," Theresia confessed. "I like to be with him, and to talk with him, and I am always happy to see him. If he is not there, I cannot stop thinking of him, and when he is there, it takes some time until I have the courage to say something to him. I am so afraid of making a fool of myself... - Do you think I was very forward today?" she added, worriedly. "I would not want him to think ill of me, and he certainly would if I had been too forward...do you think I ought to speak less, next time I meet him? Or will he think I do not like him if I do?"

"There was nothing wrong in the way you acted today," Marie said reassuringly. "Theresia -- do you think you are in love with him?"

"I do not know," Theresia replied. "I wish I knew -- but how am I to know whether I am in love or not if I have never been in love before? If being in love means to keep thinking of a person and to wish all the best for them, and wanting to have them around all the time, then, I am afraid, I am in love -- only, on the other hand, why do I feel uncomfortable every time I meet him? My heart beats so I can hardly speak...as if I were afraid of him. Certainly, if I were in love, that should not be the case?"

"I am afraid I am no expert in such matters, Theresia," Marie said. "Perhaps you should talk to my mother?"

Theresia shook her head. "I cannot," she said. "I will just have to find out for myself. Marie ... promise not to tell anybody what I told you. Not even your mother ... please!"

"I promise," Marie said. She would not tell anybody. For her, Theresia's explanation had been sufficient. Even if Theresia was not in love yet, she was on the way of falling in love. Hopefully Mr. Capellari felt the same.

******

In entering the drawing room at the Hertenberg Palais, the girls realised that in the course of their absence some guests had arrived. Theresia did not know any of them -- by the look of it, they were father and son, and by the father's way of talking to her aunt, one could assume that there must have been a certain degree of intimacy in their acquaintance once, so Theresia concluded that these people must be the Hardeggs. Her aunt's introduction convinced her of the truth of her conclusion.

Count Hardegg was about as old as Theresia's father, though he looked younger and was, in a way, still rather handsome. He had an agreeable voice, open manners, and a very eloquent way of expressing himself. All in all, Theresia thought, the sort of friend no one needed to be ashamed of, and some more evidence (had she ever needed any) of her uncle's good sense.
Alexander Hardegg was handsome too, but in a different way. He was not very tall -- at least not very tall for a man, though he was still a great deal taller than Theresia. Everyone was a great deal taller than Theresia. He was elegantly dressed, though there was a certain amount of casualness in his appearance -- which increased the impression of elegance. He did not talk much, but one could say in his defense that his talking was not necessary, since his father spoke enough for them both. It seemed that General Hardegg had the annoying tendency of answering questions directed to his son in his son's place. Theresia realised that Alexander Hardegg found his father's habit just as irritating as she did.

"Why did you return to Vienna after all those years," the Baroness asked Count Hardegg.
"I distinctly remember you saying you would not come back."

"I thought I would not," Count Hardegg admitted, "but I have changed my mind, obviously. The main reason for our returning is my son's wish to study at the Academy of Art."

Marie gave Alexander an approving look. She remembered he had always been a very talented artist -- she still had some sketches he had made of her when he had been twelve years old, and the likeness had been amazing even then. Still, his becoming a student of art was a bit of a surprise -- Marie would not have thought that Count Hardegg would allow his son to learn such an "unsteady" profession.

The Baroness expressed her surprise, too, but she congratulated Alexander Hardegg to having been accepted by such a prestigious institution as the Viennese Academy of Art. Alexander smiled.

"I am very lucky," he said. "I do not need to choose a profession that enables me to earn my living, and am therefore able to do whatever I am inclined to do -- not many men can consider themselves so fortunate. I know that my father's wishes differ from mine -- yes, they do, Father, do not deny it. However, I have been able to convince him -- at least he acts as if I had, and I am very happy about it."

"Had it been for me to decide," Count Hardegg admitted, "my son would have entered the army."

"I did enter the army, Father," Alexander said.

"Yes, but you did not stay."

One could tell by Alexander Hardegg's expression that he had discussed the topic with his father very often, and that he felt no inclination to continue the discussion -- especially not in the presence of the Hertenberg family. Calmly, he turned to Joseph and asked him some questions concerning some mutual friends, thereby signalling that, as far as he was concerned, his professional ambitions had been sufficiently debated by now. About a quarter of an hour later, the Hardeggs took their leave, but not without accepting the Baroness's dinner invitation for the following Saturday.

******

That evening, Marie searched her room for Alexander's sketches, and finally found them in her own portfolio, hidden behind her own drawings and watercolours. One of them was rather small, hastily pencilled on some piece of paper -- the paper was not even taken from a sketchbook, it looked more like the sort of paper her father had used for his letters. But though the drawing was so small, the details were amazing -- the flow of the little girl's hair, and the cat sleeping on her lap. The background was not easily recognisable, and had Marie not known where the picture had been taken, no one might have been able to tell, perhaps. She had been sitting on the lawn in Hertenberg, under one of her favourite trees, and had played with the cat. Only in the evening, Alexander had shown her the sketch and she had begged him to give it to her, as she had liked it so much. Being the good-natured boy that he was, Alexander had made her a present of this picture, and had done another one several days later, a more elaborate one, which he had given her also.

It had been Alexander's pictures that had made Marie wish she could draw as well, and as he had encouraged her to take up drawing and had shown her a few basic tricks, she had grown as fond of it as he -- though, Marie had to admit, she had never quite reached his excellence. Certainly, if he saw her attempts now...no, she would not show them. He would probably laugh at her. It was quite likely that he would. A man who had been accepted in the Academy of Art would hardly take her little pieces of work seriously.

Unfortunately, Marie had forgotten that her mother had displayed some of her works in the drawing room, and only remembered them when, on the following Saturday, she found Alexander Hardegg seriously studying one of them.

"Is this one of yours," he asked her, smiling. There was nothing superior in his smile, Marie thought, but still she blushed. That particular watercolour was not exactly one of her masterpieces, in her opinion. Why had she not remembered these pictures and had removed them?

"It is not...very good, is it," she managed to say.

"It is not bad, either," he answered, earnestly. "Really, I quite like it. You have a good sense of colours, Marie."

Marie blushed even more, and he noticed it. "I ought to call you Miss von Hertenberg now, of course, only, Marie seems so much more natural --I still remember that little girl I used to know, and I used to call her by that name."

"I do not mind, really," Marie said.

"Still, I will have to remember who you are now," he replied. "Miss von Hertenberg."

His mock solemnity made Marie laugh.

"I was quite amazed when I met you here the other day," Alexander continued. "Had I met you in the street, I would hardly have recognised you, I am ashamed to say."

"There is no need to be ashamed, sir," Marie said. "One cannot expect a girl at seventeen to look the same as she did when she was six. Tell me, have I improved?"

Alexander laughed. "Very much so. Have I?"

"You have grown up," Marie said.

"But not improved, I see," Alexander said, with a grin.

"I did not mean that," Marie protested. "You know I did not mean that."

"If you tell me so, I shall believe it," Alexander replied, and turned to the Baroness, who just now wished to introduce Mr. Capellari to him. Marie walked away from Alexander Hardegg, and sat down on the sofa next to Carl.

"What do you think," she asked him. "Have the Hardeggs changed much?" Carl shook his head. "No, not much," he answered. "A little, perhaps -- Alexander has grown up, of course, and he has become a bit more easygoing. He was not like that when he was with us, but then, that was shortly after his mother's death, and I guess that situation was not easy for him."

"Did you know he served in the Army?"

"I heard about it, yes. I think it was a good idea of him to quit it, though."

"Why?"

"Because he is a dreamer," Carl said. "He always was. And, frankly, the average life expectancy of dreamers in the army is not very high."

"Carl," Marie exclaimed, aghast. "Do you mean to say he was a bad soldier?"

"I do not think he was a bad soldier, whatever that means. I only mean that being a soldier was bad for him, that is why I am glad he gave it up before the profession harmed him. We should not be talking about such subjects tonight, though."

Marie thought Carl was right. One should not be talking about such subjects. Not tonight, and not on any other night.

******

The Hardeggs became regular visitors in the Hertenberg Palais from that evening on. They spent many evenings there, and they met the Hertenbergs on other occasions, such as balls and parties with friends. Count Hardegg looked rather disappointed when Baroness von Hertenberg announced that she and her family would leave Vienna for the summer, and that they would leave very soon.

"This is most unfortunate," he exclaimed. "Just as we had nearly got back to our old friendly terms! Can you not delay your departure?"

"I am afraid I cannot," the Baroness replied. "But you know that, as long as my husband was alive, you have always been welcome as a guest in his house -- any time. In that respect, nothing has changed. If you can part with the gaieties of Vienna for the summer, why not accompany us?"

"I do not wish to intrude," Count Hardegg said.

"Intrude? You are practically family, sir. Actually, we would be very happy to have you and your son with us."

Finally, Count Hardegg accepted the invitation, which seemed to please him a great deal. Baroness von Hertenberg decided to invite Mr. Capellari also, but Mr. Capellari declined. He had already promised his uncle to spend the summer with him in Graz, and could not break off the engagement.

It was too bad, the Baroness thought, that Theresia and Simon Capellari should be torn apart just when their friendship had started to grow very promising, but it could not be helped. The uncle had a superior claim on Mr. Capellari's attention than the Hertenbergs or Laudecks, and since that particular relative had nearly infinite power over his nephew's happiness, it was better not to snub him. There was nothing left for the Baroness to do but to express her hope that one would meet Mr. Capellari again on his return to Vienna, and Theresia had to reconcile herself to a rather boring summer.

Part VII

Joseph did not really enjoy the first days of his stay in Baden. The weather was not fine, so the walks in the countryside he had planned had to wait. Once the arrival of Baron von Hertenberg had become known, Joseph had hardly been able to escape the attentions of every ambitious Mama in Baden and its surroundings. For a moment, Joseph even contemplated spreading a rumour concerning his suffering from an unmentionable disease -- this would, perhaps, keep those meddlesome women away. On the other hand, Joseph had no desire to be the Baden town pariah either. All he wanted was to be left alone, and to be allowed to decide for himself if -- and when -- he chose to mix with society.

In order to avoid those annoying people who did not seem to get a hint, Joseph spent most of his time in his room, reading, and occasionally looking out of the window, watching the goings-on on the main square of Baden. Finally, nearly a week after Joseph's arrival in Baden, the sky cleared and the weather improved. It became hot and sunny, and nothing stood in the way of an occasional walk in the forests surrounding Baden.

At first, however, Joseph wanted to get acquainted with the town itself. It was a neat little place, to be sure. Everything was nice and clean, and looked like the sort of town people might have had in mind when reading fairy tales. Everyone seemed to know everyone, and everyone knew Joseph, too -- which was rather surprising, after all he had hardly been in company yet. One could not escape Rumour, at least not in Baden.

The weather being so fine, but it being too late in the day to venture an outing into the forests, Joseph decided to spend some time in the park. The park was one of the centres of the town, but there were some secluded spots where a man could sit and read without being disturbed every two minutes.

Joseph settled down in some secluded corner under a tree and opened his book. In a way, he even preferred this place to his room at the inn -- Joseph was very much of an outdoors person and did not like being shut up in a stuffy room. Had he been at Hertenberg, he would have gone out no matter how bad the weather had been, but, well ... Joseph did still not know why his mother had insisted on his going to Baden. It all seemed so irrational to him -- fresh air and exercise were just as available in Hertenberg as they were in Baden. Besides he would have been able to do something useful, instead of sitting around, hiding from ambitious females.

His book diverted Joseph's thoughts for a while, and as usual when he was reading, he was absolutely unaware of what was going on around him. His mind was drawn back into the Here and Now, however, when a young man came up to him and asked him if he might sit down here for a while. Joseph looked into the boy's face -- he would have been quite handsome, had it not been for the paleness of his complexion. There was no question why he had come to Baden.

"I am a bit short of breath right now," the youngster said, sitting down next to Joseph after Joseph had obligingly moved over to make room for him. He gave Joseph a curious look, but seeing that Joseph did not take much notice of him, did not speak for a while.

After a couple of minutes, however, he seemed to have recovered sufficiently to talk to his new acquaintance.

"Is this book interesting," he asked Joseph.

"Very much so," Joseph answered.

"I thought so, you being so absorbed with it and all that," the young man said. "If you want me to leave, just tell me -- I may look quite delicate, but I am not. Not really."

"You are most welcome to stay, sir," Joseph answered.

"In that case, I will," the young man said. "My name is Puchinger, by the way -- Arthur Puchinger. All right, von Puchinger, but I keep forgetting that."

Joseph smiled. Somehow he liked this boy and his puppy-like behaviour, blurting out things the way he did. It was quite obvious Arthur von Puchinger wished to be friends with him, and he had nothing against it.

"Joseph von Hertenberg," he replied, holding out his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Oh, so you are Baron von Hertenberg?" Arthur exclaimed. "I thought you were older."

"How so," Joseph asked.

"I don't really know. I just thought that the name Baron von Hertenberg sounded pretty old. I thought you'd be thirty, at least."

Joseph laughed. "Once you reach my age," he said, "you will realise that thirty is not that old. I am six and twenty, by the way. But how did you come to know my name?"

Arthur grinned. "My family have hardly talked of anyone else ever since your arrival," he said. "They do not know you, but are quite keen to make your acquaintance. Consider yourself warned."

"So you are here with your family," Joseph asked, more in order to keep the conversation going than out of curiosity.

"The whole bunch of them," Arthur sighed desperately. "Mother, sisters, brother-in-law and all, and there is no getting rid of them. As if being ill were not bad enough in itself, really."

"I am sure they mean well," Joseph said.

"So am I," Arthur replied. "Only, sometimes I think that well meant is really just the opposite of good. I am sure I'd be much better off if they just left me alone. Of all my family, my father is the only one who understands me and doesn't fuss. Unfortunately he's got business to attend to and hardly ever comes here. I am left to the mercy of my mother and sisters most of the time, and they treat me as if I were about to die any moment. Which is nonsense. I'll outlive them all, I'm sure."

They sat there for a while silently, each one absorbed in their own thoughts. Then, suddenly, they heard someone call out for Arthur. The boy started. "Can't a man have five minutes to himself," he groaned. "Listen, sir, you could do me an immense favour. If anyone asks you, just tell them you haven't seen me, will you?"

Joseph laughed. "Will that be necessary, do you think?"

"Absolutely. Thank you for putting up with me telling you about my problems. Could we meet again somewhere? I'd like to have someone intelligent to talk to for a change."

"If you care to," Joseph said, "we could meet at the café on the main square. The waiter there is quite skilled when it comes to leading inquisitive relatives into a wrong direction. I have witnessed that several times. Though I do believe he is at his best with irate wives searching for their drunkard husbands, but I am sure he can do just as well other relations. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a perfect place to me," Arthur said, looking about him nervously. "See you there then. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow morning will be fine," Joseph said. "But not before ten o'clock, I have some letters to write."

Arthur nodded, bowed, and vanished among the surrounding bushes -- just in time, as it turned out. A man came around the corner, and on seeing Joseph sitting there approached him.

"Excuse me, sir," he said. "I hate to disturb you, but I am looking for my brother-in-law. A rather thin, ill-looking young fellow, about this tall..."

Joseph replied that he had not seen anyone fitting that description, calming his conscience with the fact that Arthur was definitely taller than his brother-in-law had indicated, and not that "ill-looking" either.

"If the boy only knew what he is doing to his poor mother, running away like that," the man said to no one in particular, thanked Joseph for his assistance and walked on, in search of his young brother-in-law, leaving Joseph to wonder what sort of family the Puchingers -- the von Puchingers -- were.

******

In the course of the following days, Joseph had ample opportunity to find out more about Arthur von Puchinger and his family. Arthur supplied him with information most readily. The von Puchingers were from Klosterneuburg and, apparently, well known and respected in their hometown. Apart from Arthur and his parents the family consisted of three sisters, all of them older than Arthur.

"I am not only the only son, but also the youngest of four children," Arthur said. "Do you know what I suffer?"

Joseph assured him that he had no idea of Arthur's sufferings, him being the eldest and not the only son either.

Arthur's eldest sister was already married, and had settled in Baden with her husband, a well-known physician by the name of Dr. Schnitzler. It was the Schnitzlers that the von Puchingers were staying with at the moment -- until Mrs. von Puchinger would find suitable lodgings.

"My sister has been married for a year and a half now, and is doing pretty well in my opinion, but my mother does not trust her to find a decent house for us," Arthur said. "If I were Eleonore, I'd be quite put out."

Arthur's father, Franz von Puchinger, was a rich man, but also a busy one. His business did not run itself, after all, and so his family did not see much of him when they were at home in Klosterneuburg, and even less during their stay in Baden. He came to pay them a visit about once or twice a month, but that was it. It was quite obvious, though, that Arthur doted on his father and would have wished him to be around more often. It seemed that Franz von Puchinger shared his son's interests and, though not in the habit of demonstrating affection, was very fond of his son, too. Arthur was looking forward to the autumn, when he would be back at Klosterneuburg and would be staying with his father while his mother and sisters would go to Vienna in order to purchase wedding clothes for the youngest, who was to be married the following spring.

"Hopefully it will take Maria Luise longer to choose her gowns than it took her to choose her husband," Arthur said. "But it is most likely that she will."

Joseph laughed. "Did your sister not take her time to choose?"

"No, she accepted the first fellow who asked her. It is none of my business, of course, but I do not think he possesses any good qualities apart from looks and money. Which are, I am quite prepared to admit, probably the most important ones for my sister." Arthur grinned. "The basis for a happy marriage, indeed."

Joseph had, by that time, got used to Arthur's occasional sarcasm. "This is what one is like when one has to look at life from the outside," Arthur had once explained his disposition.

As to his illness, Arthur did not go into detail. He had told Joseph that, although he sometimes felt very ill, no physician had yet been able to tell him what was wrong with him.

"There are different schools of thought on that topic. Some said it could have something to do with my blood, others say my nerves are to blame, and the third party say it is my heart. I do not care really, but I have given them the permission to cut me open when I am dead and send word with the next one to follow me. One does appreciate to know what one is dying of." He had said this with a laugh, however, so one could not be certain if Arthur had been joking or not.

One could not help noticing that the slightest exercise fatigued Arthur very much, but he was not willing to give in to his illness. He was determined to live life to the fullest.
"I'll have enough time to rest when I am dead," was his standard answer when Joseph suggested their staying indoors due to Arthur's ill health.

One day, however, it seemed as if Arthur had taken a bit too much on himself. It had been he who had suggested a walk in the forests around Baden, and since this wish was very much like Joseph's own plans, Joseph had given in. They had thoroughly enjoyed their walk, sitting in the sun and admiring the beauty of Nature. In the evening they made an appointment to meet at the café again the next morning, and both went into the directions of their respective lodgings.

The next morning, however Joseph sat waiting for Arthur for nearly an hour, without anyone turning up. Convinced that something had happened, Joseph decided to pay a visit to the Schnitzlers and to inquire after Arthur's health. He was just trying to attract the waiter's attention in order to settle his bill, when a man whom Joseph vaguely remembered to be Arthur's brother-in-law entered the café. He asked the waiter something, and was consequently led to Joseph's table.

"Baron von Hertenberg?" he asked.

Joseph nodded.

"My name is Dr. Michael Schnitzler, I am Arthur von Puchinger's brother-in-law. I am here on his behalf."

"Do take a seat, sir," Joseph said. "Would you like a drink?"

Dr Schnitzler, drawing a chair towards Joseph's table and sitting down, declined the offer of refreshment. "I have to see a patient of mine in half an hour," he said. "I only came in here on my way there."

"Has something happened to Mr. von Puchinger," Joseph asked.

"Not exactly," Dr Schnitzler replied. "He only took too much on himself yesterday, and this exertion has taken its toll. He was not able to leave his bed this morning, he is a bit feverish, too, and he has asked me to come here and explain the matter to you. You must know, sir, that Arthur von Puchinger is seriously ill."

Joseph was dumbfounded. True, Arthur had always looked rather pale, and had been out of breath even after a short walk, but Joseph had never suspected a serious illness, and Arthur had never given him the impression that he took his state of health seriously. On the contrary.
"What do you mean with seriously ill," Joseph asked. "What is he suffering from?"

"I wish I knew," Dr Schnitzler said. "I am afraid I do not have the slightest idea."

"Can he receive visitors?" Joseph asked.

"Not at the moment, I am afraid," Dr Schnitzler said. "Usually it takes him about three or four days until he has recovered sufficiently to leave his room. But then, I am sure, he will appreciate visits from his friends."

"Who would have thought it," Joseph said, mournfully. "He ought to have told me ... I would never have taken him on that outing if I had known..."

Dr. Schnitzler smiled. "This is exactly why he did not tell you," he said. "Arthur hates to be pitied, and he hates to be told what to do. He wants to live his life just the way he fancies it. Which makes things very difficult for his family and friends, but it is his life, after all. All we can do is advise him, and most of the time he chooses not to follow our advice. A most stubborn youth, he is." He rose. "I am afraid I must leave now. Do you want me to deliver any message to my brother-in-law? I am sure he would be pleased to hear from you."

"Do tell him I hope he will get better soon," Joseph said. "I will call on him on Friday, if he feels up to it by then."

"I will gladly tell him so," Dr Schnitzler said, and took leave. Joseph stayed in the cafe for another half hour, and then decided to go home and write some letters.

******

"Any news from Joseph," Carl asked his mother when he saw her reading her letters.

"There was a letter from him, but as for news, there are not many," the Baroness replied. "He seems to have made new friends, he mentions an Arthur von Puchinger and a Dr Schnitzler -- though I must say I am not sure if they are really suitable friends for him."

Suitable friends. Sometimes his mother sounded as if they were still ten, Carl thought.

"I do believe that a man at six-and-twenty can decide for himself when it comes to choosing his friends," Carl said. "I sometimes get the feeling that you have not reconciled yourself to the fact that we have grown up, Mother."

"A mother will never really reconcile herself to such a fact," the Baroness said. "No matter how old you get, you will still remain my children. Just wait until you have children yourself, you will see what I mean then."

Ah yes, of course. The old "just wait until you have children of your own" thing.

They stopped their discussion of the topic when Count Hardegg entered the room. Carl did not think it suitable to discuss family matters in front of him, even if Hardegg was his godfather and -- as far as he knew -- had been one of the executors of his father's will.

"Any news from your son, Baroness," Hardegg asked.

"He seems to enjoy himself thoroughly," the Baroness answered.

"Glad to hear it. Baden will be a great benefit to his health, no doubt. Has any of you seen Alexander?"

"Last time I saw him he was in the library," Carl said. "I asked him to join me -- I have to ride around the fields to see how the tenants are doing."

"It would do him good to get outdoors a bit more, to be sure," Count Hardegg said.

"So I thought, but he declined the offer," Carl said. "He told me he had other plans. Did not go into detail, though."

Count Hardegg sat down at the breakfast table and the Baroness poured him some coffee. They sat there talking about everyday trifles, but most of the time they were silently enjoying their breakfast.

"Does anybody want strawberries," Theresia asked, coming in from the garden carrying a large bowl of said fruit. "I fancied some, so I went to pick some."

"And there are still strawberries left for us?" Carl asked, grinning. "Amazing."

"Oh, I do have a certain amount of self-control," Theresia said.

"But not when it comes to strawberries, usually," Carl answered.

"One more word like that, cousin, and I will stuff your mouth," Theresia exclaimed angrily.

"If you hand me that bowl of strawberries, I will do so myself, thank you," Carl said, laughingly. He had always enjoyed teasing Theresia, and now he had taken to do so as often as he could -- simply to keep her from pining for that Capellari fellow. He had hoped that she might forget him once they were in Hertenberg, but it was not so. Whenever she had seen something particularly beautiful, or had done something amusing, she had regretted that "Mr. Capellari was not with them". It was pathetic, Carl thought, and whatever everyone might be saying, Capellari was not worth it. Reason enough for him to try and cheer up Theresia whenever he could. If cheering up was out of the question, annoying her was the next best thing. Theresia put the bowl of strawberries on the table with a thump and left the room angrily.

"You should not tease the poor girl like this," the Baroness said calmly. "Things are bad enough for her as they are."

"I do not see why," Carl replied. "She just said she has a certain amount of self-control, hasn't she? Besides, things would not be better for her if she had staid in Vienna, so she could have stopped running around looking like a thundercloud long ago. All I am trying to do is cheer her up."

"You are not very successful, though," Count Hardegg answered. "Perhaps you ought to reconsider your methods?"

"Perhaps," Carl admitted, rose and left the room, silently swearing at Capellari and all his relations, whoever they might be.

Soon after that, Carl went on his round, which took him considerable time. The tenants had always liked Carl, and once they got the chance to have a comfortable chat with him, they did not let the chance slip away so easily. It was nearly dinnertime when Carl arrived back at the House, and he was surprised to hear a familiar voice emerge from the stables, giving the stable hands exact instructions concerning the handling of his horse. It sounded like Horvàth.

"Horvàth," Carl shouted, walking towards the stables. "Is that you?"

"Last time I looked into the mirror it was me, yes," Horvàth answered, turning around to face him. "I am awfully glad to meet you here, I need your support. You know, I left Vienna this morning to seek refuge in Hertenberg."

"Seek refuge?" Carl asked. "You must have ridden as if the devil were after you if you left Vienna in the morning and are here already." What had Horvàth done that had made him leave Vienna in such a haste?

"It was not the Devil that drove me out of Vienna. It was worse. Not even the Devil would choose to be anywhere near Aunt Erszebet."

Carl gave a sigh of relief. At least Horvàth had not done anything rash or stupid. "You know you always are a most welcome guest," he said. "What makes your aunt spread her wings and fly to Vienna, by the way?"

"Spread her wings? Saddle her broomstick, more likely. Never mention wings and Erszebet Horvàth in the same sentence. Family matters, actually. They are both coming, my uncle as well as she. As I said, things are very serious, and I would rather not be in Vienna during the next two weeks. Do you think your mother will let me stay for a few days? Only until I have got one of my superiors to send me away on some important business or other? I have volunteered for messenger service between Vienna and Posony*, certainly they will have a few letters to be delivered soon..."

Carl laughed. "I am sure that my mother will have nothing against your staying for a while," he said. "Posony can wait, can't it?"

Together, they entered the house, and Carl hoped that Horvàth could stay for a while and help him cheer up Theresia. After all, Horvàth was even better at teasing than he himself was.
Only one thing worried Carl. What were the family matters that made Horvàth's uncle venture the long journey all the way from Hungary just in order to settle them? Now, in the worst summer heat? Horvàth had not mentioned anything yet, but it had to be serious.

******

Posony was once the capital of Hungary, or at least the place where the Kings of Hungary were crowned, and is now known by its German name Pressburg or its Slovakian name, Bratislava.

Arthur used a rather morbid quote, concerning the "being cut open". Actually, this quote was used by one of the German emperors, Charles VI, on his deathbed, when none of his doctors were able to tell him what was really wrong with him.

Part VIII

That evening, everyone was in high spirits, for some reason or other. Doubtless Horvàth's arrival had something to do with it, Carl thought. Horvàth was the sort of person who could cheer up a whole crowd by his mere presence. The Baroness, having invited Horvàth to join them in Hertenberg before she had left Vienna, welcomed him most readily and asked him to stay as long as he pleased, an invitation that Horvàth accepted most readily. Yet he kept apologising for his intrusion, until Carl told him to stop.

After having settled into his room, Horvàth joined the company in the drawing room again, and soon had the attention of everyone present. Count Hardegg had met Horvàth before, and had greatly approved of him then. Therefore Horvàth spent his first half hour talking about Army matters with Count Hardegg, and even then could only extricate himself from the conversation with Marie's help.

"Captain Horvàth," she said, "we were wondering if you might wish to join us in a card game. My cousin and I want to teach Mr. Hardegg a new card-game, only we need a fourth player, and Carl has refused, out of mere contrariness, I suppose. Would you do us the favour?"

"Why, certainly," Horvàth said. "With the General's permission, that is."

Count Hardegg, laughingly, asked Horvàth if he had not yet learned to set his priorities the right way. He, in his days as a Captain, would never have rated a General's wishes higher than a lady's.

Horvàth laughed. "I am still young, sir," he said, grinning. "I suppose there is still so much to learn..." With these words, he joined Theresia, Marie and Alexander Hardegg at the card table.

It was rather late in the evening, after the ladies had retired to bed, when Carl had the next chance to talk to his friend.

"You refused to play cards with your sister," Horvàth asked, grinning. "Why?"

"Because I saw that Hardegg was boring you to death, and I knew that she would ask you next, that is why," Carl replied.

"You ought to be nice to your sister," Horvàth said, suddenly looking earnest. "You never know how long she will be there."

"This sounds rather remarkable from someone like you," Carl said, smiling.

"Did you ever get the impression I treated my sister badly?" Horvàth asked, sounding rather annoyed.

"No, never. You have not told me yet what that family business was about. The one that makes your uncle and aunt come to Vienna."

It was obvious that Horvàth was arguing with himself whether to tell Carl or not.

"It is not official yet," he said, finally. "But I suppose I'd better tell you. It will not be so very bad if you hear it from me, I guess."

"Why, what is the problem?" Carl asked. "This does sound serious."

"It is serious, in a way. Ilona is getting married."

Carl laughed. "For a moment, you had me really worried, you know," he finally said.

"You mean you do not mind?" Horvàth asked, sounding surprised.

"Of course not! Why should I?"

"Only I sometimes had the impression..." Horvàth stopped short. "All right, I was wrong, anyway, it seems. Call it wishful thinking or whatever it is."

"You thought I was in love with your sister?" Carl asked and started wondering how on Earth Horvàth had come to that conclusion. He had never shown any preference for Miss Horvàth, had he? Perhaps it had been wishful thinking on Horvàth's part -- or had Miss Horvàth mentioned any suspicion of hers? Had she expected something from Carl which had never entered his mind at all?

"Not really, though I thought it would be a good thing if you were," Horvàth admitted. "You always got along pretty well with each other, did you not? Besides, looking at whom she is going to marry makes me think of better alternatives, I cannot help it."

Suddenly it dawned on Carl that he still did not know who Miss Horvàth's betrothed was.
"This sounds as if you were not quite happy with her choice," he said.

"How could I be happy with it? She is going to marry Bàthory!"

"The same Bàthory who is friends with my brother?" Carl asked in disbelief. He had never thought that Bàthory would marry at all -- he had always been enjoying his bachelor life a bit too much for Carl's taste, and had never been short of female company either. Bàthory's female acquaintance had not included the sort of women a decent man would think of marrying, though.

"The same. You know, I really have my doubts as far as your brother's reasons for choosing his friends are concerned. With friends like Bàthory, who needs enemies?" Horvàth asked.

"I am sure he is not that bad," Carl said, soothingly, but not quite believing so himself.

"No, he is much worse, actually. That is the problem -- I have to watch my sister diving headlong into misery, and there is nothing I can do about it. Absolutely nothing."

"Perhaps you ought to have stayed in Vienna? Your uncle might have listened to your opinion." It was a possibility, at least, Carl thought.

"He would, no doubt, but he does not really care. For my uncle, this is an excellent chance to get Ilona married, and she herself is quite happy with the scheme. I have never seen her so happy before, to be precise. The question is how long this is going to take. Bàthory is the very last man to make her happiness last. There is one person in the world that he loves above all others, and that is he himself. Everyone else is completely insignificant."

"He must be in love with your sister, though," Carl said. A man like Bàthory would not give up his bachelor life without reason.

"I do not know," Horvàth said. "I hope he is...anyway, this is one more reason why I left Vienna. I cannot bear to see Ilona together with that man. I cannot bear to see how happy she is because somehow I have got a feeling that all this will end in a disaster. He will break her heart, I am sure ..."

******

Just as he had promised, Joseph knocked at the front door of the Schnitzlers' house on Friday morning. An elderly housemaid opened and asked him whom he wanted to see. Joseph asked if Mr. von Puchinger was at home, and the maid invited him to come in and wait in the parlour. When she showed him in and announced his name, the eyes of everyone in the room were fixed on him instantly. Joseph wondered whether he had a magnet hidden somewhere.

Dr Schnitzler rose from his seat and greeted him cordially, proceeding by introducing Joseph to the ladies. There was Mr. Schnitzler's mother-in-law, a short, thin lady with a sharp, eagle-like nose and penetrating eyes. She was elegantly dressed, though, for Joseph's taste, her dress would have been more becoming to a lady about thirty years younger than Mrs. von Puchinger. Mrs. Schnitzler was rather petite, like her mother. There was nothing remarkable about her, though she was pretty, in a certain, doll-like way. Judging from the amount of words she uttered during this visit, she might as well have been a doll, a daintily dressed plaything that had been placed where she was for ornamental purposes only.

The youngest Miss von Puchinger had been sitting by the window reading a book, which she put away hastily when she noticed that Joseph was talking to her. She answered some of his questions politely, but was not overly interested in making his acquaintance, it seemed.

After five minutes, the maid returned and asked Joseph to follow her, as Mr. von Puchinger was now ready to receive him. She led him to a room upstairs, which turned out to be Arthur's bedroom. Arthur was sitting in an easy chair by the fireside, accompanied by a young lady who had been reading to him. Joseph was at once struck by her beauty -- her eyes, especially. She had large, grey eyes and fair hair...nearly like Fiona's.

"It's all right, Amalia," Arthur said to her. "I think we will leave it at that for the moment, if you do not mind. Baron von Hertenberg, I would like you to meet my sister Amalia. I suppose you have already met the rest of my family, haven't you?"

Joseph bowed to Miss von Puchinger and tried to think of something particularly clever to say, which unfortunately did not work. So Miss von Puchinger did most of the talking, and finally left her brother and his visitor to themselves.

"You should have told me that your sister was so...beautiful," Joseph said to Arthur once he could be certain that Miss von Puchinger would be out of earshot.

Arthur laughed. "Amalia? She is pretty, I guess, but nothing out of the common way. Besides, what would you have thought of me if I had particularly dwelled on the beauty of my sisters? You would have suspected I might want to marry them off."

"I thought they were getting on your nerves?" Joseph said with a mischievous grin.

"True, but sometimes they are quite useful, nevertheless," Arthur said. "Now, what do you think of a game of chess?"

******

Marie entered the breakfast parlour and was surprised to find nobody there. True, she had been up early, but not that early, for certain. At least Theresia would have been up and about at that time, normally. However, Marie suspected that Theresia, although she had gone to bed at the same time as Marie, had not slept for a very long time. This had happened quite often lately, and since Marie's room was adjacent to Theresia's, she had often heard Theresia move about in the middle of the night. On some occasions, she had even heard Theresia go downstairs and had seen her walk down the path towards the river at night. Whenever one wanted to talk to her about it, though, Theresia pretended that nothing was wrong, without being able to convince anyone. It was obvious that she was not her usual self, but any mention of that fact would make her angry. Where was the Theresia Marie had known since their childhood, the cheerful, sometimes mischievous girl, always ready for some fun? Marie sighed. If that was what love made of people, she would rather not fall in love herself.

She was roused from her gloomy thoughts when Alexander Hardegg entered the room, evidently surprised at seeing her.

"Good morning, Ma...Miss von Hertenberg," he said, sitting down next to her.
Marie laughed.

"I think I have already told you I would not mind if you called me Marie," she said.

"Yet, I must not forget my manners," Alexander answered, with a smile. "It was difficult enough for my father to teach me some in the first place. Or so he keeps telling me."

"I never had the impression you were difficult to handle as a child," Marie said.

"Oh, I never was," Alexander said with a grin. "I never did anything that was forbidden. The trouble was that there were so many things my father had not thought of forbidding because he had not believed they might enter my mind. A bad mistake, I can tell you, because I tried them all. -- Do you have any plans for today or are you up so early by chance, Miss von Hertenberg?"

"No plans in particular, Mr. Hardegg," Marie answered, "and I really must protest. You make it sound as if I spent every morning in bed."

"I am very sorry, Miss von Hertenberg, I had not intended such a thing," Alexander answered. He looked, in fact, so crestfallen that it was quite easy to forgive him, and Marie told him so.

"It is one of a man's most useful weapons to be able to look like that," Alexander said with a grin.

"You mean you are not really sorry," Marie asked, still smiling.

"Of course I am really sorry. I have to be."

"I do not quite believe you," Marie said. "I think I should ask for a compensation of some sort."

"Fine. What would you want me to do?"

"I have been planning to do a portrait of Theresia for quite some time..." Marie started.

"I see. You need me to tie your cousin to a chair, I suppose," Alexander said with a mischievous grin.

Marie laughed. "She has been a bit restless lately," she admitted, "but this is not her usual behaviour. I am sure she would sit for a portrait if she could only be certain it would be done properly. I have to admit I am not really good at portraits, though...would you help me?"

Alexander gave Marie a thoughtful look. "Are you in earnest?" he asked her. "If you really want to do this properly, this will take some time, you know. And do not talk to me about unfinished work, because I will not have it."

Marie had already noticed at several occasions that, fun loving and easygoing as Alexander Hardegg was, as soon as art was concerned he turned into a different person. For him, painting was serious work. Marie began to feel slightly sorry for having asked him, but on the other hand she did not want to back out now.

"I know," she therefore said. "I promise I will work hard on the portrait, and I will finish it. Provided, of course, that Theresia is willing to sit for the picture. I have not asked her yet."

******

Joseph had visited Arthur von Puchinger quite often lately, as Arthur was still unable to leave the house. He could leave his room, however, and so they often met in Mr. Schnitzler's study. Arthur "was not fond of sitting with the womenfolk all the time", as he had said once, and so Joseph did not see much of the beautiful Amalia. He caught a glimpse now and then, which only served to raise his interest in her, but nothing more.

One day, however, Mrs. von Puchinger graciously invited him to dine with the family the following Sunday. "My husband will be here," she said, " and he will be delighted to make your acquaintance, I am sure."

Joseph accepted the invitation, though, had anyone asked him, he would have had to admit that Mr. von Puchinger was perhaps the least reason for his doing so. When the day of the invitation arrived, Joseph caught himself trying on three different waistcoats and throwing them aside because they "simply would not do", which earned him a mildly surprised look from his valet. The man was clever enough not to ask questions, at least.

Dr Schnitzler welcomed Joseph in his home, and introduced him to his father-in-law. Franz von Puchinger was a middle-aged, robust man. He seemed good-natured enough, and Joseph noticed that he spent a great deal of time talking to his son. Dr Schnitzler entertained Joseph during that time, until the ladies joined them.

At the dinner table, Joseph was seated between Mrs. Schnitzler and her younger sister, Miss Amalia von Puchinger.

"I suppose you are in company quite often, Baron von Hertenberg," Miss von Puchinger said. "Your family must be quite popular in Viennese society. Baden must make you feel quite confined, in comparison."

"We are not that popular, Miss von Puchinger," Joseph answered. "After my father's death, my mother was leading a rather secluded life, and so did I. However, now that it is the girls' first season, we are going out quite frequently."

"So you have several sisters, sir?" Mrs. Schnitzler asked.

"Just one. Her name is Marie. The other girl is my cousin, Miss von Laudeck, who is living with us."

"Oh. A poor relation, I presume," Miss von Puchinger said.

Joseph laughed. "Actually, we would be Miss von Laudeck's poor relations, Miss von Puchinger, if anyone ever compared our fortunes," he said.

"Indeed!" Miss von Puchinger exclaimed. It was obvious that she was wondering what Theresia did in the von Hertenberg household, but Joseph did not want to share his whole family history with her. At least not right at the moment -- that would leave him without a suitable conversation topic before long.

"I am looking forward to going to Vienna in autumn," Miss von Puchinger continued. "Though I suppose we will look a bit too country-like, if you know what I mean."

"I am afraid I do not, Miss von Puchinger, " Joseph said. "What do you mean with country-like?"

"Do you not think that the clothes one gets in Klosterneuburg -- or Baden, as well -- will be frowned on in Vienna," Miss von Puchinger asked.

"I am not much of an expert when it comes to ladies' fashions, Miss von Puchinger," Joseph answered, "but I do not believe that Baden or Klosterneuburg are so very much out of the way."

"Oh, I do not know," Miss von Puchinger said. "But I am quite prepared to be laughed at."

Joseph smiled. "No one will laugh at you, Miss von Puchinger, I am quite certain of that. On the contrary, I believe that you will be greatly envied. You possess charms that not even the most elaborate dress could replace."

Miss von Puchinger blushed. "I am sure you are only being kind," she said.

"Being kind does not necessarily mean one has to tell lies, however," Joseph answered.

Thus they chatted on during the excellent dinner, until the dessert was nearly finished. Suddenly Joseph found himself addressed by Mr. von Puchinger, who wanted to know how he had liked his dinner.

"Very much, sir," Joseph replied.

"The dessert?" Mr. von Puchinger asked.

"Everything was perfect, sir," Joseph said. "Thank you very much."

"You must know that my daughter Amalia made the dessert," Mr. von Puchinger said. "Excellent cook, that girl is."

"Papa!" Miss von Puchinger exclaimed indignantly. "I am sure Baron von Hertenberg is not the least interested in who made his dessert." With an apologetic smile she turned to Joseph. "My father insisted on our learning to cook when we were children," she said, "and he is still so fond of our doing so for him...I find it hard to refuse the wishes of those I love best..."

Mrs. von Puchinger took this as the right opportunity to rise and withdraw to the parlour, and her daughters followed her immediately, leaving the gentlemen to themselves. Had Joseph not known that they would, sooner or later, join the ladies, the evening would probably not have held any more enjoyment for him. As it was, he sat down with Arthur, drank a glass of wine with him and discussed a book that Arthur had read during his illness, while Mr. von Puchinger and Mr. Schnitzler were clearly talking about business. Arthur did his best to amuse Joseph, but somehow Joseph was not able to concentrate any more. All he could concentrate on was a certain face, her beauty, and the sweetness in her voice when she had talked about those she loved best.

Part IX

Finally, after nearly an hour, Mr. von Puchinger seemed to be inclined to give up his place in the dining room and to join the ladies in the parlour. Joseph had been waiting impatiently for that moment, so impatiently, in fact, that even Arthur had noticed that something was wrong. He had given Joseph a questioning look several times, but had not said anything. Joseph tried to pull himself together. He did not want to hurt his friend by giving him the impression that he only associated with him to catch glimpses of his sister.

The ladies were gathered around the large table in the parlour, each of them busy with some piece of needlework. On the gentlemen's entrance, Mrs. Schnitzler rose and rang for the servant, ordering coffee and cake to be served at once. Joseph realised happily that the seat next to Miss von Puchinger was not occupied, and sat down besides her, complimenting her on the beauty of her embroidery.

"Do you really think so," Miss von Puchinger replied. "I think it is rather average ... a friend of mine, Miss Berger, you should see her work. You would not praise mine any more if you had seen it. I am not particularly good at needlework, actually, music is much more to my taste."

"Do you play an instrument then, Miss von Puchinger?"

"I play the pianoforte. Unfortunately, my sister does not have one in her house -- I do hope my parents will find lodgings with a pianoforte. Without practice, one loses so much. It will take me weeks, if not months, to regain my usual standards...and I really do not know how to pass my time, sometimes."

"So you are very fond of your music, Miss von Puchinger?"

"Very. Does your sister play?"

"Sometimes, but she is not really fond of it. My cousin, Miss von Laudeck, is very accomplished, though. It seems you have something in common." Joseph smiled.

"Does your cousin play well," Miss von Puchinger asked.

"Yes, she does. But she practices for hours every day."

Miss von Puchinger sighed. "I wish I could do so, too, but even if I do have an instrument, my mother insists on my doing other things as well. She strongly believes that a young lady should have many interests."

"Your mother is right in that respect, Miss von Puchinger. A great variety of interests will never leave one without resources for useful occupation. This is true for both ladies and gentlemen."

"Do you have any interests, sir? My brother said you had a liking for reading."

"So I have, but I hardly have the time to read much, there is so much to do. My estate needs a great deal looking after." Joseph sighed. "I wish I was there..."

"You are not content with Baden society, I suppose," Miss von Puchinger said, pouting.

Joseph realised that he had blundered. What had he been thinking? "Miss von Puchinger," he said, gently, "this was in no way meant to be an insult to present company. Please accept my apologies if I hurt you in any way."

"I can understand you, sir. In comparison to Vienna, Baden must be exceedingly dull."

"My estate is in the country, Miss von Puchinger, and I assure you that Baden provides a great deal more diversion than Hertenberg ever will. When I said that I wished to be there I only meant to express that there was so much work to do in Hertenberg, work that will not be done as long as I am not there, and that thought does not make me feel comfortable. Certainly my mother and brother will be doing their best, but..." Joseph broke off as he caught a glance of Miss von Puchinger. She looked as if he was not yet forgiven.

Mr. von Puchinger relieved Joseph of his embarrassment by asking him why he had come to Baden. "You do not look like someone whose health is delicate," he said.

"I am here because my mother thought it would do me good," Joseph replied. "I broke my arm in a riding accident, and she believed that a sojourn in Baden might assist the healing process. In fact, my arm is as good as new by now, but I have no reason to regret to have come here." Hopefully Miss von Puchinger would get the hint.

"A riding accident? How terrible," Miss Maria Luise exclaimed.

"It sounds worse than it was," Joseph said, smiling. "I brought it on myself, so there is no reason to pity me. I was foolish enough to suggest a race, and then the accident happened."

"A foolhardy thing to do," Mr. von Puchinger said disapprovingly.

"Sir, I assure you this is not my usual character, only that day...I was not quite myself." Joseph smiled. "I somehow wanted to prove myself that I was still alive."

"By breaking your neck? Sounds perfectly reasonable to me," Arthur said, with a grin.

Joseph laughed. "It does one good to be unreasonable for a change," he said. "The consequences usually plant one's feet firmly on the ground again."

"Can we not talk about something more cheerful," Miss von Puchinger suddenly complained. "The mere thought of that accident makes me shudder..."

"You are right, sister," Arthur said determinedly. "You know what, Hertenberg? My brother-in-law has pronounced me well enough to go out again. I do hope he is in earnest, because I missed going out. Where shall our next excursion take us, what do you think?"

******

Theresia stared at Marie with an expression of utter disbelief in her eyes. "What has got into you, Marie? You want to paint a portrait? Of ME?"

"I thought it was a good idea," Marie said apologetically, "and I have been planning to do this for some time. Only I did not have the courage to start on it until Alex...Mr. Hardegg promised to help me."

Suddenly, Theresia broke into a broad grin. "Mr. Hardegg promised to help you, did he? So this is where your sudden resolve comes from. You should have told me so right away. Well, I might be tempted to oblige you, but you will have to promise me one thing. If I do not like the portrait, you are not to show it to anyone. No one is to see it if I am not pleased with it, do you hear?"

Marie promised to keep this in mind, but pointed out that, since Mr. Hardegg would help her, there would certainly be no reason to ashamed of that portrait. Then she proceeded by trying to determine a setting for her project.

"What about the garden," she asked Theresia. "The rosebushes are particularly beautiful at the moment -- they'd make a wonderful background."

"The pink ones?" Theresia asked. "Marie, you know I am not really fond of anything pink."

"Not even roses?"

"Not even roses, if they have to appear in the same picture as myself." Theresia said decidedly. "Besides, I do not think it tempting to sit outside all day in this heat without being allowed to stir."

Thus, their discussion went on until Carl, who was interested in why the girls were whispering, joined them and asked if they would like to share their secret with him.

"No," Theresia said curtly. "You have never been good at keeping secrets."

"But it is not a secret," Marie answered, giving Theresia a hurt look. "I am going to paint a portrait of Theresia."

"Trying to hit moving targets again?" Carl asked with a grin. "I thought you had given up this occupation long ago due to a severe lack of success."

"This time Mr. Hardegg is going to help me. I am sure this picture is going to be the best I ever painted," Marie said, sounding very convinced of her abilities.

"I hope you will show me the result of your efforts when you are finished," Carl said.

"I certainly will," Marie began, and, on catching Theresia's infuriated look, continued," if Theresia allows me to do so, that is."

Carl gave Theresia a surprised look. "You do not say that you are not going to show the picture to anyone," he said.

"Only if I do not like it," Theresia answered.

"So, where are you going to keep it?" Carl asked. "In a closet, locked up and with a sealed door?"

"No, in the cellars of Laudeck. Behind seven massive oak doors, all locked, and with a three-headed dog to guard it," Theresia said, grinning. "Perhaps I will even ask our White Lady, to look after it. We need someone to remove dust and cobwebs and such. There are spiders the size of rats in those cellars."

"And it will take a young man pure at heart to fight his way past those seven doors, rat-sized spiders, cobwebs like fishing nets, three-headed dogs and white ladies in order to get to see the picture, I suppose." Carl retorted.

"This is why you will never get the chance, cousin," Theresia laughed. "You may be able to tackle those spiders, perhaps, but as for the rest...I am afraid your heart is not quite pure enough."

"Is there any young man in the world whose heart might be?" Carl asked, grinning.

"I do not know," Theresia answered. "Perhaps there is."

Something in that remark seemed to have annoyed Carl, because he turned on his heels and went over to Horvàth and Alexander Hardegg, leaving his sister and cousin quite puzzled.

"What did I say that was wrong?" Theresia asked Marie. Marie shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "Carl has grown a bit irritable lately," was all she could say in defence of her brother.
"He should not take it out on me," Theresia said. "If he cannot stand a joke, he ought to stay away from me. He has known me for long enough to know that."

******

It had been Alexander Hardegg who had finally decided on the question of the picture's setting. According to his opinion, a model should always feel comfortable with her surroundings in order to make a favourable impression on the viewer. He had therefore suggested that Theresia should sit for her portrait in the music room.

"I have hardly seen Miss von Laudeck feeling more comfortable than when she was practising her music," he had said, and Marie had had to agree, even though she would have preferred a setting somewhere outdoors.

Theresia laughed when Marie told her that the picture would be painted in the music room, with her at the piano.
"May I hold a music-sheet in front of my face," she asked innocently. "Certainly the picture will be much nicer to look at without my face in it."

"You do talk a great deal of nonsense sometimes, Theresia," Marie said. "What would be the use of a portrait without a face?"

"It would leave room for speculation, and if you messed it up, nobody would recognise it was me in the picture," Theresia said, mercilessly.

"If I mess it up, no one will recognise you anyway," Marie answered. "Besides, I might just as well tell you that this is going to be my masterpiece. Now, let us see what you are going to wear..."

Theresia gave her a horrified look. "Do you mean I will have to dress up for the occasion?"

"Of course," Marie said. "You will want to look your best, won't you?" She took Theresia's hand and dragged her upstairs to her room, opened the wardrobe and pulled out one dress after the other for closer inspection.

"This one will do," she finally decided, holding up Theresia's green ball gown.

"This will be a rather unrealistic portrait, then. I never wear my ball gown when I am practising," Theresia said.

"Believe me, no one will ever know," Marie said. "Get dressed, will you? Mr. Hardegg said we will have to do as much as we can during the morning. He says the light in the music room is best at that time of day."

"You owe me a favour," Theresia said darkly. "Coming to think of it, you owe me a whole bunch of favours." Marie laughed and left her reluctant model to herself to get ready.

Misfortune would have it that Theresia, just as she went downstairs again, met with her cousin Carl carrying a hunting rifle.

"Where are you off to," he asked, with an impertinent grin. "Being presented at court?"

"What about your presenting yourself in the courtyard and leaving me alone?" Theresia asked furiously. "Aren't there any small furry creatures to be killed?"

With these words, she rushed past him and slammed the music room door shut behind her. Carl shook his head, smilingly.

"A lovers' squabble," he heard someone say to him. It was Horvàth, who had come into the house just in time to witness the scene.

"Oh, shut up, Horvàth," Carl said ungraciously, went outside and left his friend to determine how near he had got to the truth.

******

Theresia found out that sitting for a picture was not quite as dull as she had thought, especially since Alexander Hardegg was good at telling amusing stories and anecdotes to divert her thoughts. He had spent the previous year in Italy, and told them that this journey had made him more determined to become a professional artist than he had ever been before.

"I would love to go back there one day," he said, "and to work there. I would have done so already, but for my father's sake I came back."

"Why?" Theresia asked.

"I cannot leave him here, all by himself," Mr. Hardegg answered. "I am all he has got in terms of relations. If my mother were still alive, or if he had married again, there would not be a problem in that, but as it is...I am not going to leave him all alone."

"Why did your father never marry again," Marie asked. "What do you think? Did he stay single out of respect for your mother?"

Alexander smiled. "No," he said. "That is not the reason, definitely. If he had met the right sort of woman, he might have married again, I suppose. I guess he just did not want to. Perhaps one only falls in love once in life. -- Anyway, Italy will have to wait until he does not need me any more."

"Where would you go?" Theresia asked. "Which part of Italy, I mean?" She was aware that, as far as Mr. Hardegg was concerned, the topic of his father had been sufficiently discussed.

"I do not really know...but I think Tuscany would suit me. The scenery there is breathtaking," he said. "Or somewhere in the South, near the Amalfi coast. Have you ever been there?"

"No," Theresia said. "Trent is about the farthest I ever got. My grandparents used to live there. My mother speaks both German and Italian."

"You do not look as if you had Italian ancestors, Miss von Laudeck."

"Neither does my brother. I think we are both more like my father. Though I have my mother's dark eyes. My brother's eyes are a sort of bluish-grey."

"Do you miss your family, Miss von Laudeck?"

"Sometimes I do, yes," Theresia said, sadly. "But my mother promised to come to Vienna this year, or next year, at the latest. -- If this portrait is any good," she continued with a mischievous grin, "what about sending it to my mother? I sometimes dream I come back home and she does not recognise me. Certainly she might want to know what I look like by now?"

Mr. Hardegg, who had just been helping Marie with getting a colour right, looked at Theresia. "I believe that is a good idea," he said. "Though you might be certain that she would not lock the picture into the cellars," he added, smilingly.

This discussion of her family made Theresia think. Who could tell if she would ever see them again? What if she married someone in Vienna? Would she never get back home? She sat there silently, pondering, and watched Marie and Mr. Hardegg working on the picture.

******

It took Marie about a week to finish the picture. During those days, Theresia had enough time to watch Mr. Hardegg's behaviour towards her cousin, and formed her own opinion of their friendship. In the first two weeks of his stay at Hertenberg, Mr. Hardegg had been like another brother to Marie, but something had changed lately. Theresia was not sure in how far Marie had realised that, but to her it seemed as if Mr. Hardegg wanted to be more than just a friend. The signs were unmistakable. There was a smile here, a gentle touch of Marie's hand there, and any criticism of her painting was softened by a smile. Even when they were not working on the portrait, he sought Marie's company whenever that was possible, and any smile of hers was received with a gratitude that was quite moving.

In a way, this made Theresia feel envious. Not really jealous, because there was no reason for her to be so, but she felt as if there ought to be someone for her as well. At those moments when she saw Alexander Hardegg and Marie together, him being so obviously engaged in trying to win her, Theresia envied them their chance for happiness while she was separated from the man she loved. She had sorted out her feelings for Mr. Capellari by now, and though she tried not to give way to them, she hoped that he returned her love for him. She missed him more than anything, and looked forward to the day when they both would be in Vienna again and could continue their friendship from what it had been in spring, before they had been separated.

There was no one with whom she could talk about her feelings, though. Marie would have listened to her, no doubt, and would have tried to cheer her up, but it would also have disturbed her to no end. Aunt Hertenberg would have advised her to keep her feelings to herself. Carl would treat the whole thing as a joke, and even if he had not, Theresia did not think it wise to share her secrets with him. What did he know of love?

The more Theresia thought of it, the more she longed for her mother, who had always listened to everything she had told her, and who would be able to solve her problem. Hopefully Baroness von Laudeck would be able to come to Vienna this year.

Part X

It was early August, and the heat was unbearable for both man and animal. The residents of the Great House in Hertenberg therefore spent most of their days in the house, with the exception of Carl, who took his duty of overseeing the workers on the fields very seriously, and Horvàth, who was never averse to a cross-country ride in good company.

The Baroness felt that the heat was a strain on her health, and spent most of her days in the drawing room, with the blinds tightly shut to keep out the sun. Theresia and Marie usually went out for walks early in the morning when the heat had not quite set in, and then returned to the house to keep the Baroness company. Alexander Hardegg often accompanied them on their walks, and Theresia made a point of either walking ahead or staying behind him and Marie, to give them a chance to talk in private. She was most ready to be of assistance in any of Alexander Hardegg's plans -- she liked him, and thought he was a good match for Marie.

On that particular morning, however, the girls were staying with the Baroness while Alexander Hardegg had gone out to draw some sketches of the countryside, and were trying to pass their time in some way or another. Marie had fetched one of her father's books from the library and had settled down by the window to read, and Theresia was writing one of her weekly letters to her mother. They were not likely to be disturbed by any of the gentlemen soon -- Carl and Horvàth had ridden out immediately after breakfast and would not be back before noon, and Count Hardegg had departed into the direction of Vienna to attend to some business, and would stay there for two days at least.

Moments like this sometimes made Theresia regret that she was a woman, and that there were so few chances for a young woman to enjoy herself that were really proper. If her aunt were not quite so bent on propriety, at least...it was not easy to employ oneself if one was always interrupted by questions like, "Do you really mean to do this? Have you considered what impression it would make on others?" It was not as if Theresia wanted to do so very improper things, not at all -- only a little bit of fun would have been welcome, sometimes, and there was not much fun to be had here, in the country. Life was unbearably dull, and it was even worse now, as no one could go outside. One day Theresia had, out of mere boredom, suggested that she would go and help the haymakers in the fields. She had often done so when she had been a little girl back in Laudeck, she had been friends with many of her father's farmhands, but Aunt Hertenberg had been horrified at the mere notion, and Carl had declared Theresia's idea to be the best joke of the century.

"Just imagine what people would say if they saw you," Baroness von Hertenberg had exclaimed. "And the sunburn you would get! Really, Theresia, you do astonish me sometimes!"

So Theresia had given up uttering such strange wishes, and was now sitting in the drawing room with her aunt, feeling bored, and hoping that some rain would soon cool the air and make it possible for her to go out more often. In the meantime, she had to content herself with working on her embroidery, practising her piano playing, and reading, although unfortunately the Hertenberg library was not up to date -- the newer sets of books were in Vienna, and Theresia did not fancy reading an encyclopaedia published in 1734. While she was still contemplating on what to do when she had finished her letter, the door opened and Carl and Captain Horvàth returned, much earlier than they had planned.

"Has something happened," the Baroness asked her son anxiously. Carl shook his head, and took some letters out of his pocket.

"I just happened to be in the village when the post arrived, and thought I would take the letters here myself," he said. "Besides, Horvàth has to leave us -- he has had a letter, too, and has returned to get packing. He has to be back in Vienna by tomorrow."

"Thank you, von Hertenberg, for letting me have my say," Captain Horvàth said with a grin. "It is such a comfort to know that once my ability to speak fails me, you will be there to take over."

Theresia laughed, though she did not really feel like it. If Captain Horvàth left, one more chance for amusement would be gone. He would be sorely missed.

"Do you really have to leave already," Marie asked him. It seemed as if she shared Theresia's opinion on this subject.

"I have already stayed here for longer than I had expected at first, Miss von Hertenberg," Captain Horvàth replied. "I knew my stay would not be long."

"Are your uncle and aunt still in Vienna," the Baroness asked.

"I believe they are," Captain Horvàth said, with a sigh that the Baroness ignored but which both Carl and Theresia could clearly discern. "I will not see much of them, though. My presence at the barracks will be necessary at all times, just in case any of the higher ranks wishes to send a message to Posony."

Probably only Carl knew what this meant to Horvàth. He would be in Vienna and would have an excuse for staying away from those family meetings he detested. He would not have to spend the evenings watching his sister and Bàthory. Only another military man could estimate the significance of such an action, or what a man must really suffer at home to prefer barracks life.

Horvàth left them in order to pack his things, and Carl sat down with the ladies, who were, by that time, already waiting to open their letters. The Baroness had had another letter from Lady Macmillan, her sister, a fact that Carl acknowledged with a sense of dread -- another letter-reading and commenting on Aunt Macmillan's wisdom was enough to make him long for the comparative amusement of sentry duty.

Theresia's letter was from her mother, which pleased her very much. She would be able to add her answer to this letter to her weekly correspondence, and her mother would not have to wait for so long until she heard the latest news from her daughter. The news Baroness von Laudeck's letter contained, however, was most alarming. She wrote that she had been seized by an illness, and that it would therefore be impossible for her to keep her promise and come to Vienna this year.

The doctor says it is nothing alarming, my dear, or at least nothing life threatening, which will be your most urgent question on receiving my letter, I know. I am fully aware how disappointed you must be, after all we have been planning my visit for some time now, and I admit I was disappointed, too -- I longed to see you so much; it is hard to describe this feeling. All those letters from you and your kind aunt Hertenberg have convinced me that my little girl has grown into a most charming young woman, and I would have loved to show you off as MY daughter. The Lord did not want me to indulge in vanity, it seems. Do not consider my visit broken off altogether, my dear. As soon as I am feeling well enough, next spring at the latest, I will be on my way to Vienna to make up for this. In the meantime, I hope you will be content with our correspondence, which gives me so much pleasure.

This letter really was a serious disappointment. All the plans Theresia had had for the autumn crumbled from one moment to the next. There would be no meeting between her mother and Mr. Capellari, and no confiding to her mother as far as Theresia's feelings for that gentleman were concerned. Theresia would just have to go on by herself, it seemed, as well as she could. Until spring...in spring her mother would come, she had promised to do so. A delay of six months was not much, was it? With such thoughts Theresia tried to cheer herself up, but she was not really successful. She rose from her seat, walked to the French window that led out into the garden and opened it. Staying in this stuffy room with everyone around her was the last thing she wanted now. Whenever Theresia was sad, she wanted to be alone. Without a word to anyone, she went out into the garden to think about her situation.

Carl had received a letter, too, one from Joseph, who was most anxious to know everything about the goings-on in Hertenberg and quite as anxious to inform his brother as to the events of Baden. Carl smiled when he read Joseph's account of a ball that had taken place the other night. A certain Miss von Puchinger took up a lot of room in his brother's letter, and Carl felt that Joseph would finally leave his days of mourning for Miss Grant behind him. Whatever would become of Miss von Puchinger and her family after Joseph would leave Baden, his family would owe her gratitude for having brought Joseph back to life.

******

"This heat is awful," the very same young lady said to her sister the moment they left their parents' house in Baden. Mrs. von Puchinger had finally contrived to find a dwelling suitable for both her family's demands and her own wish of showing off her status.
"Do they really have to go for country walks in such weather?"

"Would you prefer walking in the rain," Maria Luise von Puchinger sweetly asked her sister. "Those gentlemen do have the strangest notions, sometimes, and if you want to pursue the Baron you will have to go for walks to meet him, in rain or shine."

Amalia gave her sister a furious look. As if she were in the least interested in this Viennese Baron. There were lots of young men of fortune in the world, probably with larger fortunes than this particular one. Amalia had to admit that he seemed to be a kind, likeable gentleman, though, which made up for a great deal. He would do, for a summer's amusement.

It was a permanent strain on Amalia's temper that both her sisters were already married, or at least engaged to be married, while she was not. Amalia was by far the prettiest of them; she knew that, so why did men prefer her sisters? There was only one way for her to show them that she was, after all, better than they were. She had to marry up, not a gentleman of their sphere. A Baronet, a real one, not one with such a recent title like her Papa, would be the least she required. Baron von Hertenberg was all that, but Amalia would not commit herself before she knew more about him. A Baron was fine enough, but what did a title mean without the means of living as this title required one to do? No, she would not attach herself yet, but on the other hand it was wise to strike the iron while it was hot, and Amalia was clever enough to have perceived that Baron von Hertenberg did like her company very much.

It was quite obvious when she met him this time. He greeted her with a radiant smile, evidently surprised and very happy to see her. Men were like children sometimes, Amalia thought. This one, at least, was -- not the least inclined to conceal his feelings from her, or probably not at all aware of how openly he was displaying them. It would be ever so easy to secure him -- if Amalia wanted to. But for the moment, Amalia kept herself back. She would go to Vienna in October, and her chances of meeting young gentlemen of equal status but even larger fortune were pretty good. There was no need throwing herself away if she could help it.

So Amalia returned Baron von Hertenberg's smile, just a little, in order to keep him interested, but not too much -- he should not have too much of encouragement.

"Have you been shopping, Miss von Puchinger," he asked her, offering her his arm which she readily accepted.

"No, sir, we were just longing for a short walk, my sister and I," Amalia answered.

Unfortunately, the heat is too much for me -- I would love to go for a long walk, but it is so fatiguing. I sometimes wonder how my brother in his weakened state can manage."

"Your brother, Miss von Puchinger, is very fond of walking, and has a very strong will of his own, perhaps this is his secret."

"I am fond of walking too, Baron von Hertenberg," Amalia said. "Yet I would not insist on walking in this heat if I knew it would be the death of me."

Joseph gave her an inquisitive look. "Is there something I ought to know, Miss von Puchinger? You know I am the very last person in the world who would wish to do your brother any harm. If our country walks are bad for him..."

Amalia gave a deep sigh. "My brother will do as he pleases, no matter what any of us says," she said. "Let us not talk about him, it will only depress us. Have you had news from your family, sir?"

"Not much. My brother writes to me every day, but his letters contain little news about my family. They are all about business. I suppose everyone is well -- I would have heard about it if it were otherwise."

"You would, without doubt," Amalia said.

"We are going to meet soon, anyway," Baron von Hertenberg continued. "I am going to leave Baden by the end of next week."

Amalia managed to look disappointed. "So soon, sir," she asked, quietly.

"I am afraid so, Miss von Puchinger," he said, looking at her earnestly. "There are matters of business which my brother cannot settle -- Carl will have to return to his regiment by that time and will no longer be able to take care of my estate."

"Will you not be sorry to leave your friends behind, Baron von Hertenberg? My brother will be inconsolable, to be sure -- have you already told him?"

"I have told your brother, and he understands my reasons for leaving Baden very well -- just as I expected, Miss von Puchinger. He promised me to keep in contact, which makes me very glad. That way, I will never be without news from my friends, and I hope to meet some -- or all -- of them when they come to Vienna in autumn."

As they arrived back at the von Puchingers' house, Amalia once again expressed her regrets that Baron von Hertenberg was to leave them so soon. Then, Baron von Hertenberg left Amalia to the company of her brother and sister, and walked on towards his rooms.

Arthur turned to Amalia and said, sharply, "Tell me, what are you up to?"

"I do not know what you mean," Amalia said coolly.

"You know very well what I mean, Amalia. What are you up to? I would not say anything against it if you really liked von Hertenberg, but I know you well enough to know that you do not. So what do you want?"

"I do not believe it is any business of yours, Arthur," Amalia said angrily.

"It is my business," Arthur said. "He is my friend, and you are my sister. Keep your hands off him if you are not seriously interested in him, Amalia. I would not want to lose a friend just for your sake. Besides, von Hertenberg is much too good for you."

"I doubt that," Amalia said sweetly. "No man is too good for me. There is just a great deal of such who are not good enough." With these words, she went upstairs to her room, greatly annoyed with her brother and his views concerning her and his friend.

******

It had been one of those hot summer days when not even a breeze had reached the house to give a bit of refreshing coolness. Consequently, Baroness von Hertenberg was sitting in the drawing room, feeling tired and old. Days like that had this effect on her, sometimes, and much as she hated it, she had to admit that she was not twenty any more.

The door opened quietly, and Baroness von Hertenberg greeted the visitor.

"Count Hardegg! You are back already? I thought you would not be back before supper."

"I arrived an hour ago," Hardegg answered. "I hurried back to Hertenberg -- there is some important business I have to attend to here."

"Important business in Hertenberg," the Baroness asked, now seriously worried. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Nothing at all, I assure you," Hardegg answered. "No, the business I had to attend to was my son. We had a serious talk today."

"I hope your son feels comfortable here," the Baroness said. "Life can be a bit dull in the country, sometimes. I would be very sorry to hear that he is not feeling comfortable in my house."

"Believe me, Baroness, Alexander is enjoying his stay very much," Hardegg said. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something he told me. I think it is of interest for you, as well."

The Baroness doubted this. What business between father and son Hardegg could be her business as well...unless, of course, Count Hardegg had renewed the foolish notion he had once indulged in, the notion that had made him leave Vienna.

While the Baroness was still contemplating the wording of her refusal, which would have to be unmistakable and yet polite, Count Hardegg continued, "Alexander had a confession to make, though I admit that I had suspected something of that sort already. He is in love with your daughter, and his fondest wish at the moment is to marry her."

Fine. So it was not the father who was considering marriage, but the son. Marie the future Countess Hardegg? Well, why not? She could certainly do worse.

"Does your son know you are telling me about his plans," she asked, calmly.

"I told him I would do so, yes. I had to, in order to make him refrain from declaring himself right now. It would be utter foolishness to marry so young -- for both of them. In two or three years, perhaps...it would not be such a bad idea, would it? As it is, I finally convinced him to wait, at least until he can be sure as to how Marie feels for him. What do you think?"

"I think this was a wise decision," Baroness von Hertenberg answered. "I sometimes get the feeling that Marie is not yet ready for such a thing as marriage. She is too young, indeed, and I am afraid she has not the least suspicion as to your son's feelings for her. What is more, I do believe she is far from returning them."

"You believe Marie does not like Alexander? This would be quite contrary to my impression," Count Hardegg exclaimed.

"I did not say she does not like him," Baroness von Hertenberg said. "What I meant is that she is far from being in love with him. She likes him, the way she likes most people. I am sure she would not want to risk her friendship with him, but that is exactly the point -- she wishes to be his friend, but nothing more."

"Do you not think that could change?"

"Oh, things may be different one day, no doubt," the Baroness said. "But I am quite sure that nothing would get Marie to consent to a marriage without actually being in love. A proposal of marriage -- at this moment -- would most certainly be refused."

"You think Marie would refuse him?"

"I am pretty certain that she would, yes. I cannot vouch for her decision if your son were to ask her in a year or two, of course. The only advice I can give him is to make himself agreeable and to watch Marie closely. I know that, once she has lost her heart to someone, she will let him know, in a way."

Count Hardegg laughed. "How do you know?"

"She is my daughter, sir. We must have something in common."

"I can distinctly remember one day when a certain Joseph von Hertenberg, captain in Her Majesty's guards, came to my quarters in despair because a certain Miss Bradbury did not care for him. I quote: "If she did, she would show it." So where exactly does the likeness come in?"

"I did not care for him, on that particular day. He had flirted with one of my friends the whole previous evening, he needed to be punished," Baroness von Hertenberg said, laughingly. "Had he not run to you to cry on your shoulder, he might have found out that my acting as if I did not care actually meant that I did love him. Very much, even." She became serious again. "I still do."
Something in Count Hardegg's countenance showed her that this was not quite what he had wanted to hear. Had he returned to Vienna because of her? If so, the Baroness pitied him. She still considered herself married, even though her husband had been dead for nearly three years. There would never be room in her heart for another.

She got up and went to the window, looking out. "It looks as if there is a storm coming up," she said. If you know nothing suitable to say, talk about the weather, her mother had told her when she had been a young girl, and it had been one good piece of advice.

"About time," Count Hardegg said. "We could do with a bit of rain."

He seemed to know the time-honoured rule as well. Getting up, he told her that he would go and tell his son what she had advised him to do, and then left the room. Baroness von Hertenberg sighed. Whoever had said that worries grew up just the way children did had been right. The older her children got, the more she worried about them. There was Joseph, who was doing well on the whole, but had turned into an insecure young man, yearning for love but not expecting it. There was Carl, the soldier, who was like his father in so many ways -- and like his father he could be killed by his profession any time. There was Marie, her shy little girl who had grown into a promising young lady, and who needed a loving, caring husband. Alexander Hardegg was the one, certainly. Hopefully Marie would, one day, see him like that.

© 2002, 2003 Copyright held by the author.

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