being played at the ball given in honour of those who had been victorious. Often and often Anna had gazed on the mountain of Königstein, so full of mysteries and of victims.

The night was dark, but the carriage, which was preceded by two men on horseback, carrying torches, rolled swiftly on its way. She scarcely noticed when it stopped before her husband's mansion, which was situated in Pirna Street. Although the Count was expected, the servants were all asleep, and it was impossible to awake them immediately. No apartment had been prepared for the Countess, and she shuddered at the thought of being obliged to enter her husband's room.

The office of the Secretary to the Treasury adjoined the large hall, which, although richly furnished, looked gloomy and sad. On finding that her husband was from home, the Countess's astonishment increased still more, but the servants explained that this was the King's night, and that the entertainment was usually continued until daybreak. Being obliged to remain and rest, the Countess chose a room situated at the opposite side of the office, and separated from all the other apartments. In this she ordered a camp-bed to be placed, and having shut herself in with a servant as companion, she tried to sleep. But the beautiful Countess sought sleep in vain; she only dozed, waking up at the slightest sound.

The day was already bright, when, having fallen asleep for a few moments, she was aroused by hearing footsteps in the office. Thinking it was her husband, she rose and dressed.

The morning toilet she put on only made her appear the more beautiful, while fatigue, uneasiness, and fever increased her charms. She entered the office, but instead of meeting her husband as she expected, she perceived a stranger, whose bearing, combined with the expression of his features, made a deep impression on her.

The man was attired in the long, black dress of a Protestant minister. He was no longer young; he had a massive head, and deeply sunk, dark grey eyes. His mouth wore a bitter smile, in which quiet contempt for the world was curiously blended with serenity and gravity, and this gave to his face an expression so striking that it was impossible to help gazing at him attentively.

The Countess looked on him in astonishment, but he, as though alarmed at the apparition of a woman, stood silent and motionless, with widely-opened eyes, in which could be clearly seen involuntary admiration for this marvellous masterpiece of God.

Thus he stood, his lips trembling, and his arms raised in silent surprise.

The two strangers looked at each other, examining one another attentively. The man retreated slowly. The Countess looked round for her husband. She had just made up her mind to retire, when the stranger inquired,--

"Who are you?"

"It is rather I who should ask who you are, and what you are doing in my house?"

"In your house?" repeated the man in surprise. "Then are you the Count's wife?"

Anna bowed. The old man gazed on her with eyes full of pity, and two large tears rolled slowly down his dried and yellow cheeks.

On her side Anna regarded him with extreme curiosity. This unassuming man, broken by the cares and hardships of life, seemed to be animated by some unknown sentiment; he became grave and majestic. In his presence that proud lady felt almost humble. The features of the silent old man glowed with a secret inspiration. Suddenly coming to his senses, he glanced round timidly, and then advanced a step.

"Oh, you!" he exclaimed, "whom God has created for His glory, you beautiful vase of virtue, a being full of light, and like unto an angel in purity, why do you not shake from off your shoes the dust that now clings to them from their contact with this unclean Babylon? Why, oh why, do you not flee from this place of corruption? Who was so perverse as to cast such a beautiful child into this sordid world? Why are you not afraid? Are you not aware of your peril?"

Anna listened to the old man, whose voice intimidated her for the first time in her life. She was indignant at such daring on the part of the minister, but she could not feel angry with him.

Without giving her time to reply, he continued:

"Do you know where you are? Are you aware that the ground on which you stand shakes beneath your feet? Do you realize that these walls open; that people disappear if they prove an obstruction; and that here human life is a thing of nought, when it interferes with a single drop of pleasure?"

"What fearful things you are telling me," exclaimed the Countess at length, "why do you wish to terrify me?"

"Because I see that you are innocent and pure, and that you know not what you may expect here. You cannot have been here long."

"Only a few hours," replied the Countess.

"And you did not spend your childhood here, or you could not look as you do now," continued the old man.

"My childhood was spent at Holstein; I have been Count Hoym's wife for several years, but I have lived in the country."

"Then I suppose you do not know much about your husband?" said the old man, shivering. "I pity you, for you are beautiful and innocent as a lily, and now a herd of savage beasts are going to trample on you. 'Twere better had you bloomed and shed forth your perfume in God's desert."

He became silent and thoughtful. Anna moved a few steps nearer to him.

"Who are you?" she inquired.

The old man appeared not to hear her, so she repeated her question.

"Who am I?" he repeated. "I am a sinner; a wretched being, the laughing-stock of all. I am the voice crying in the wilderness. I am he who predicts downfall, annihilation, and days of misery. Who am I? I am God's messenger, sent to point out to His people the path of virtue, but to whom none will hearken. I am an outcast to the rich--I am despised--but I am true and pure in the sight of the Lord."

The last words were spoken quietly, then he became silent.

"How strange it all is!" said the Countess. "After years of tranquillity, passed in the country, I am summoned here by my husband, and here I meet you, who are to me as a voice of warning. Surely in this there must be the finger of God!"

"Yes, verily!" rejoined the old man, "and woe to those who heed not God's warning. You ask who I am. I am a poor preacher, I have spoken against powerful lords, and therefore their vengeance pursues me. My name is Schramm. Count Hoym knew me when I was a mere lad, and I have come here to ask his protection, for my life is threatened. This is the reason I am here; but who brought you hither?"

"My husband," replied Anna briefly.

"Ask him to let you go away," he whispered, looking timidly round as he spoke. "I have seen all the beauties of the court, and, taken all together, they cannot compare with you in beauty. Woe be to you if you remain here. They will entangle you in a net of intrigues; they will intoxicate you with songs; they will still your conscience with fairy-tales; they will accustom you to shame. Then one day, intoxicated, weary, feeble, you will fall over the precipice."

Anna Hoym frowned.

"Never!" she exclaimed. "I am not so feeble as you think. I am aware that I am surrounded by peril, but I have no desire for a life of luxury. No, the life of the court has no attractions for me. I despise it!"

"You must not trust in your own strength; flee, flee from this hell!"

As he spoke, he stretched out his arms, as though he would have liked to