"You shall judge for yourself," continued the counsellor. "My mind, harassed by grief that nothing could soften. I had conceived the sad thought of having erected in this garden the monument that you now behold, and under which I wished my heart to repose when I should be no more. Well, one day when I had come to visit the workmen, I perceived this accursed child, who was named Max, like myself, playing with this agate heart, which he used like a ball in the game of ninepins. A sombre terror froze my soul. I saw in the childish act the presage of evils that he might cause me some day, and to cut short our relations, which no longer offered anything but distrust and danger, I ordered my steward to rid me of the presence of this little rascal. I know that he is in a safe place, but I will never consent to see him again during my life."
"What hard heartedness! what foolish vengeance for an imaginary wrong!" exclaimed the lady.—"Do not vex yourself, Julia," said the counsellor, bowing, "the blows of fate are of more importance than the imprudent sensibility of your sex." At these words the privy counsellor Reutlinger offered his hand to madame Foerd, and conducted her from the garden. A short time after this there was gathered within castle Ruetlinger a brilliant company invited to a triennial feast which the counsellor called the good old times festival. All the guests were expected to present themselves in the fashionable costume of the year 1760, with wigs extravagantly cued, laced coats, hooped dresses, and bird of paradise curls. It was a kind of carnival, the sight of which was very piquant.
Two young men, Ernest and Willibald, met in a distant walk in the garden. They looked at each other from head to foot, then burst into a loud laugh, as the result of the scrutiny of their respective physiognomies, under the accoutrement which they had borrowed from the counsellor's wardrobe.
"By my faith," said Willibald, who first regained his seriousness, "this worthy Ruetlinger's idea is not entirely with-
