He succeeded—the thoughtful visionary only thrust his hand into his pocket, and threw a piece of money without even looking at him.
After dinner, numbers of new faces appeared; but not a single person spoke to poor Frank, who began to grow impatient. His attention was still fixed upon every respectable passenger; strange, he thought, that no one addressed him—that all should pass him without the least notice; very few even deigning to return his salutation.
Towards evening, the bridge became once more deserted, the beggars one after another returning homewards, leaving our hero to his own melancholy thoughts, with hopes deceived; and the happy prospect, that had shone upon him in the morning, vanished with the parting day. He felt a great inclination to throw himself into the river, and it was only the idea of Mela, and a desire of seeing her before he committed the fatal deed, which prevented him. He determined, then, to be on the watch for her on the ensuing day, as she went to mass, to gaze on her beauty with rapture, and then bury his passion for ever in the waves of the Weser.
As he was leaving the bridge, he met the old soldier, who had been, meanwhile, busily guessing at the motive of the poor young fellow, in watching on the bridge the whole day. He waited longer than usual, to see whether he would take his depar-
