Frau Walter and the nephew were sitting facing each other upon an upholstered fauteuil, and amusing themselves by playing ball with a large yellow orange. The pretty woman threw it in dangerous proximity to the young man's nose and face. She was delighted with this childish play. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowed, and teasing laughter played about her lips.
I looked so persistently at this picture that at length Walter's eyes were drawn that way. When at length we took up our promenade, I observed: “You are certainly giving your nephew an excellent vacation.”
“I do not enjoy the companionship of the little wind-bag, but my wife insisted upon taking him along.” The last words he said as if to himself, and slowly.
Now we stood on the lookout bridge. The scene had changed. The fauteuils were side by side, and their two heads were bent so close together over the table, that the blond curls and brown curls touched. In front of them upon the table lay an illustrated weekly journal. They were looking at some pictures which showed the rendezvous of a
