of cousinly and auntly regard are as necessary and unavoidable as birth and death. I let the matchmakers have their way, and troubled myself very little about their advice or their plans. No cousin, no aunt-Hymen's ever-ready servants--can ever effect so much as simply a single pretty maiden, and at the right hour. But in our whole city and neighbourhood there was no pretty maiden-no, that is a calumny: it was the magic hour that had not come.

Nevertheless, this continual questioning and answering brought me to reflection; I really perceived that I was alone, and that I wanted something. My house, since my father's death, had become a wilderness. And yet, among the ten thousand young ladies whom I had ever seen, I knew no one with whom I should like to share my life and my wilderness.

My residence in Vienna, and the beautiful Tarnau, suddenly occurred to me, I know not how, for it was a long-forgotten story. Fortunately, I was alone in my room, for I believe that I grew fire-red at the remembrance. At last I suddenly sprung up from the sofa, stretched my arms far out into the air, as if to embrace the heavenly image, and sighed-no, I called aloud, with mingled rapture and pain, Josephine! Josephine!'

That was, I believe, the magic hour. To increase my disquiet, the very next night the god of dreams showed me the bean in the snow. Josephine was beautiful enough in herself, but my enamoured imagination illuminated her with unearthly beauty. Let no one laugh-I had gone to bed sober, but I arose the next morning intoxicated with love.

Now, indeed, was my house desert and waste, as the old Chaos of Creation might have been. I sought Josephine everywhere; I saw her everywhere. I thought of her as my wife, now at the pleasant window, with her little work-basket; now at the piano, and myself behind her listening; and now at my side on the sofa at a little round breakfast-table. In the tumult of my imagination, all her indescribable grace, her smile, her look, and her nightingale tones, became ever more bewitching. I was no longer master of myself; I was lost in a conflict of

emotions of all sorts; at one time I was upon the point of shouting aloud from very ecstasy, so bright were my dreams, and then, again, I was ready to weep. When I thought how Josephine, perhaps, might reject me, sometimes, I believe, I really did shout and weep, for I was like a wild dreamer, who is only at home with his ideal, and is deaf and blind to the outward world.

I

This condition was intolerable. arranged my business, ordered posthorses, and flew to Vienna.

It is true, some sober considerations now and then occurred to me on the way. How much might she have changed in sixteen months! thought I. Perhaps she loves another. Perhaps she is married. She may not be at her own disposal. She is too young, and has parents and relatives, and they have views which neither of us know of; or she may be of high rank.

I then thought over our former friendly intimacy, and consoled myself with the remembrance of her pale countenance, her suffused eyes, and her ardent, involuntary pressure of my hand when we parted. In all these things I found proof of Josephine's interest in meproofs even of love, although these circumstances might have been interpreted in a different way. But, that I might not utterly despair, I was forced to conclude on the whole that the Lady von Tarnau was not indifferent to me. Better not to live, than to live without her; better deluded and happy, than knowing the truth and miserable!

Filled with these thoughts, I again approached Vienna. But, when I saw the steeples and roofs in the distance, it occurred to me that, although I had considered all chances, I had not taken into account that a year ago Josephine was a stranger like myself in Vienna, and could hardly be in Vienna still.

How I fared in Vienna, I have already told you. The Lady von Tarnau had vanished. The hotel had passed into new hands; and so there was no one to give me any information. My acquaintances knew as little of her and her whereabouts as I. They wrote at my request to Augsburg, whence she or her aunt had brought letters of credit and introduction. But the Augsburg

correspondent had in the meantime died, and his heirs could give intelligence of no Lady von Tarnau. Enough: I was in despair. I was most heartily vexed with myself. For was it not my own fault, that, during my first stay in Vienna, I had been so unpardonably negligent as not to inform myself of her family and residence? Indeed, then I never once thought that I was going to fall in love with her a year and a-quarter afterwards.

In the midst of my trouble, what enlivened me the most, although it increased my passion, was-her room. That room I now occupied. I found the same furniture still there, the very chair on which she sat, and the table at which she wrote. The whole past lived so vividly before my eyes and around me, that I absolutely sprung up from my seat all in a flutter, upon the slightest noise at the door, thinking that it was she herself and her aunt coming in.

In the room itself nothing remained unsearched, for I still hoped to discover some trace of her. Twenty times did I examine the walls from the floor to the ceiling, to find, among the signatures of travellers there, her name, or something that would lead to the discovery of her home. All in vain!

Odd, but trifling enough, the very first day I went into the room, I found in the drawer of the writing-table-let no one laugh a beautiful, shining, brown bean. You know what a sacred symbol this vegetable had become to me, and now I had found it in Josephine's room! I took up the bean with the greatest care. And as I now gave up the fond hope of ever finding the loveliest being upon earth, I took the bean to a jeweller, and had it set in gold, in order to wear it continually by a silken guard round my neck, as a memento of the loveliest of her sex and of my sad romance.

I then left Vienna. I was unhappy | and comfortless. I resolved never to marry. Ah, one resolves many things in his haste!

I returned to my native city like a widower. All young ladies appeared to me intolerable, stale, common; I buried myself in business; I diverted my mind by engaging in large specu

lations; saw no company, made no visits. Josephine's image hovered continually around me like a guardian angel, and the bean upon my breast was as precious a possession as if it had been bestowed by her own hand. Let no one grudge the unhappy his dreams! I even at last imagined that the beautiful Tarnau had herself placed the bean in the drawer of the writing-table. A happy fancy is in the end as good as any philosophy by which one would fain console himself.

My outward man, indeed, was not indicative of this wonderful happiness; for all thought me melancholy, sick, and like to die. Aunts and cousins beset me with entreaties, invitations, and plans of pleasure; even physicians were sent to my house. I would have nothing to do with them.

To free myself from my tormentors, and to show that I was still like other men, I went now and then to some of the evening parties at the houses of my friends.

One evening I accepted an invitation to Councillor Hildebrande's. Now you shall hear the catastrophe of my story.

I went to the councillor's. The company were all known to me, with the exception of one person, who was introduced to me as a lieutenant-colonel in the Russian service, and who had lately come into possession of an estate about a league and a-half from the city. To this, however, I did not pay much attention at the moment. I bowed silently, laid aside my hat, and took my seat. Conversation was lively;-so much the better for me; I had no especial desire to talk.

The Russian officer, a large, stout man, of an agreeable and dignified figure, already past sixty, still full of animation, chiefly engaged my attention. He had a riband at his buttonhole, and a couple of scars on his forehead and cheek. His voice was loud and authoritative; it was easy to see in him a commanding officer. The conversation turned now upon Persia, and now upon Moldau, where the lieutenant-colonel had made campaigns. The company listened to him with pleasure, and he told his stories well.

After supper the conversation grew still more lively. The old officer told

of a battle, in which, wounded in the breast, he had fallen from his horse, and been taken prisoner by the Turks. When in the excitement of his narrative he tore open his vest to show the wound, we remarked that he wore next to his heart a little golden locket fastened by a silken guard. He drew out the locket, and exclaimed, The Janissaries robbed me of everything; but this jewel, the most precious of my possessions, I saved!'

Of course, all imagined that it must be a diamond of uncommon size, or a pearl of immense value, one of his eastern spoils.

Oh, not at all,' cried he; 'it is only a bean!'

'A bean!' exclaimed every one. At these words I became, I believe, red as fire or pale as death, or both by turns, for I could not command myself for surprise. 'How comes the man by a bean which he wears set in gold like a sacred relic, just like me?' thought I. Let any one imagine himself in my situation, and he will know how I felt. I longed to learn why he wore the bean. But I was confounded; I could not bring out a syllable. I tossed off a glass of punch to get courage to ask the question. But I was saved the trouble by all present.

'I will willingly tell you,' said the old officer, and filled his pipe; 'but I am afraid the story is not sufficiently interesting. Fill your pipes, gentlemen.'

Every one obeyed, even I, although I was no smoker. But I took the cold pipe between my lips, from pure fear that the colonel should refuse to proceed, if he saw me without his favourite instrument.

Gentlemen, I was a cadet in my fifteenth year, and a lieutenant in my twentieth, said the old gentleman. But in his five-and-twentieth one is something more than a mere lieutenant. He is happy if he is in love. And that was I.

Our colonel had a daughter, the most beautiful and bewitching maiden in the whole kingdom, and I had, along with two sound eyes, an extra sound heart. This explains everything. The young Countess of Obendorf-but I love to call her to myself by her baptismal name of Sophia, for, nota bene!

I was no count-Sophia then was sixteen years old, and I, as I said before, five-and-twenty; you can easily ima gine what mischief arose therefrom. It was quite unavoidable, I assure you. You all see that plainly enough; but the colonel, who had the eye of a hawk in regimental matters, did not see it at all; but my love, nota bene! was no regimental matter: for the rest, I stood very high with him; he was as fond of me as a son. He had known my parents, who were no longer living: he stood to me as a father, and I would have given anything in the world to have been his son. But that was not to be thought of. He was a colonel, I a lieutenant; he a count, I not; he rich as Croesus, I poor as a church mouse. Now you know all. The distance between us was too great.

The Countess Sophia did not make such nice distinctions about titles and wealth as the old colonel, and yet in many things she was more prudent than he.

I remarked, indeed, that she treated me in a more friendly manner than any other of the officers; that she liked best to talk with me; liked best to dance with me; liked best to walk with me in the garden in summer, and to go sleighing with me in the winter. However, I could not conclude from all this whether she loved me. But that I loved, adored, idolised her, that I knew, and that I knew only too well.

A thousand times was I ready to declare myself, and throw myself at her feet-but, good heavens! I have since gone with my battalion to storm a battery with a lighter heart than I was able then to advance a single step towards Sophia. It will not do, said Î.

But I will not detain you longer with the history of my love and sufferings, but proceed directly to the main point.

One evening I had to carry a report to the colonel. He was not at home; that, indeed, was no great misfortune, for the Countess Sophia was sitting all alone, and she permitted me to await her father's return in her company.

How curious it was! If we met at large parties, it seemed as if there would be no end to our talk; but when we were alone, tête-à-tête, as

they say, we knew not what to say, nay, we knew well enough, but nota bene! we could not say it! Whether you ever experienced such fatalities, gentlemen, in your young days, I know

not.

On the table before the young countess lay a draughtboard, upon which a certain game was played with a number of white and brown beans.

After a long pause in our conversation-but nota bene! such pauses were anything but tedious-the countess invited me to play. She gave me the brown beans, and kept the white. They belonged to her, of course, on account of their colour-the emblem of innocence. We played. The countess won. That led to quarrelling, and I liked to quarrel with her, for then I could say many things to her that I could never muster courage to say in cold blood.

And now it was just as if we were in a large party; that is, we talked fast enough about the stakes. The Countess Sophia had spirit and wit; she laughed, and teased me, and drove me so with her sallies into a corner, that in my despair I knew not what to answer. In my vexation I took up one of my brown beans, and to punish the beautiful jester, who laughed at me so roguishly, threw it at her. The bean made a parabola, and threatened the delicate nose of my opponent, but, as she drew back her pretty head to avoid the light bomb, ah, my shot fell through the folds of her neckerchief down into her bosom! Luckily, it

was no arrow!

I was terribly frightened, and was all in a glow in my agony. Sophia blushed, and cast her eyes modestly down. Jest, play, and quarrel were now all at an end. I could not speak, and she was silent. I feared that Í had incurred her anger through my awkwardness. I looked timidly towards her; she raised her eyes, and cast upon me rather a dark look. That I could not bear. I arose, and bent my knee before the adored one, pressed her hand to my lips, and implored pardon. She answered not a syllable, yet she did not draw away her hand from me.

'O countess! O dear Sophia! don't be vexed with me. I should die,' cried I, 'if you were angry with me.

For only for you, only through you, do I live. Without you life is worthless. You are my life, my all.'

Enough; one word followed another. How much did I say to her with tears in my eyes! and with tears in her eyes how much did she listen to! I begged for an answer, and yet gave her no time for an answer, and, nota bene! the colonel stood three steps from us in the room, without either of us having seen or heard him enter. I believe he must have glided in like a ghost!

His awful voice startled us like a clap of thunder, as he poured out upon us a whole string of regimental oaths, old and new. I sprang up before him. Sophia, without losing her presence of mind, did the same. We were on the point of excusing ourselves, if there really was anything to be excused. But he would not allow us to utter a word.

'Silence!' shouted he, as if, instead of two poor sinners, he had to deal with a couple of regiments of cavalry. 'You, Sophia, depart to-morrow-and you, Mr Lieutenant, will please ask your dismissal, and quit the province, or you are a dead man.'

With this he turned upon his heel, and left the room. I must confess, the prudence of the man in the midst of his fury was worthy of admiration; for I hold it was very prudent in him that he left us alone; we had still much to say to each other.

The Countess Sophia stood there in the middle of the room, with her pretty head sunk upon her breast, and her hands negligently folded before her, like a statue.

'O Sophia!' said I, and rushed towards her, and folding her in my arms, pressed her fervently to my heart -Sophia, now I lose you for ever.'

'No, she replied, firmly, 'not for ever; so long as I breathe shall your image live in my heart;' and this was said in a tone-oh, with a voice that thrilled every nerve in me.

'Am I really dear to you, Sophia?' I whispered, and pressed my burning lips to her rosy mouth.

She did not say yes, she did not say no, but she returned my kiss, and the earth went from under my feet; my soul was no longer in the body; I touched the stars.

She wept; her sobs recalled me to myself.

O Sophia,' cried I, sinking at her feet and embracing her knees, 'I am yours alone, as long as I breathe, and wherever my fate shall bear me !'

A death-like silence ensued. Our souls were silently swearing eternal fidelity. Suddenly something fell upon the floor. It was the unfortunate bean, to which we owed all our wretchedness. I took it up, arose, and held it out to Sophia, saying, "This is the work of Providence! will keep it as a remembrancer of this evening.'

'Yes, it is a Providence!' whispered she, and turned and went into the next room.

The following morning, or rather in the night, she travelled off. The colonel treated me on parade with the most scornful coldness. I applied for iny dismissal, received it, and went off. Whither, I cared not. Friends gave me letters to Petersburg, and supplied me with travelling money.

'It is a Providence!' thought I, and started for the rough north. Sophia was lost to me for ever; nothing remained to me but the painful remembrance and the bean. This I had set in gold, and I have now faithfully worn it next my heart for two-andforty years.

My letters soon obtained for me a lieutenant's commission. I was somewhat indifferent to life, and so was somewhat brave. I fought in Asia and Europe, got booty, honour, orders, and whatever else a soldier desires. After some twenty years I got to be a lieutenant-colonel. I had grown old; my early history was, indeed, forgotten, but, nota bene! the bean was still dear to me.

When I was taken prisoner by the Janissaries at the battle of Hinburn, in the year '88-we had a hot day of it, the Prince of Nassau made his cause good, by the way they stripped me of everything; but the sacred bean they did not find; it was completely soaked in my blood. I expected nothing but death. For two days I was dragged about by the infidels; but, incessantly pursued by our cavalry, they at last left me, lying half dead. So our people found me. They took pity on me, and carried me to the hospital,

and, to complete my restoration, I was sent at the head of a transport back to Moscow. The repose pleased me. I had to live, and therefore life became dear to me. After twenty years' service and seven honourable wounds, I could reasonably look for an honourable dismission. I received it, with a pension; that was all very well, but nota bene! I was not long contented. Moscow is an agreeable city, but for one of us, who are no merchants, rather dull. Petersburg is a beautiful place, but all its splendour was not enough to make me forget the little town where I had been in garrison twenty years before with Colonel von Obendorf, and nota bene! with Sophia.

There was nothing to delay me. Do you not wish once more to see the little town, and, perhaps, also the beloved of thy youth, who is now either a grandmamma, or is-dead? How much she must have changed in the meantime!' thought I.

I received my passports, and departed. I looked about me in all the cities through which I passed, for I had nothing to hasten me, and so I approached our former garrison town.

How my heart beat when I saw the black-pointed church-spire with its golden ball rise behind the numerous gardens and orchards! but nota bene! it was not the spire; but I thought of Sophia, and that her grave might not be far from the spire.

No one in the town knew me. It is very true, a quarter-of-a-century is a long time. The regiment to which I formerly belonged was no longer there, and the station was occupied by dragoons; Colonel von Obendorf had died many years before, and his daughter had removed to her estates in Moravia, that is, not far from Brunn. Whether she were still living, no one knew.

Shall I go there, too? thought I: and if she be lying in her grave, then go to her grave and take from it some earth, and have it enclosed in gold, and wear it instead of the bean?

In Brunn I learned with joyful surprise that she was still alive, and resided five leagues from the city on a beautiful estate, and was still called the Countess von Obendorf.

Instantly I was up and away. They