dinand: “We ladies,” said she, “are always curious; therefore don’t wonder that we complain when a story has no termination. It appears to me like seeing the last scene of Mozart’s Don Juan without having witnessed the preceding ones; and I am sure no one would be the better satisfied, although the last scene should possess infinite merit.”
The young man remained silent, perhaps less through conviction than politeness. Several persons were preparing to retire; and Ferdinand, who had vainly searched with all his eyes for the young lady with flaxen hair, was already at the door, when an elderly gentleman, whom he remembered to have seen in the music-room, asked him whether the friend concerning whom he had related the story was not called Count Meltheim?
“That is his name,” answered Ferdinand a little drily; “how did you guess it?—are you acquainted with his family?”
“You have advanced nothing but the simple truth,” resumed the unknown. “Where is the count at this moment?”
“He is on his travels,” replied Ferdinand. “But I am astonished”
“Do you correspond with him?” demanded the unknown.
