One of the two young diplomats who accompanied her, a young Count, belonging to a well-known family in North Germany, and who was a perfect gentleman in the highest sense of the word, was looked upon as her adorer, while the other, who was his most intimate friend, yet, in spite of his ancient name and his position as attache to a foreign legation, gave people that distinct impression that he was an adventurer, which makes the police keep such a careful eye on some persons, and he had the reputation of being an unscrupulous and dangerous duellist.  Short, thin, with a yellow complexion, with strongly-marked but engaging features, an aquiline nose and bright, dark eyes, he was the typical picture of a man who seduces women and kills men.

The handsome woman appeared to be in love with the Count, and to take an interest in his friend; at least, that was the construction that the others in the dining-room put upon the situation, as far as it could be made out from the behavior and looks of the people concerned, and especially from their looks, for it was strange how devotedly and ardently the beautiful woman’s blue eyes rested on the Count, and with what wild, diabolical sympathy she gazed at the Italian from time to time, and it was hard to guess whether there was most love or hatred in that glance.  None of the four, however, who were then dining and chatting so gaily together, had any presentiment at the time that they were amusing themselves over a mine, which might explode at any moment, and bury them all.

It was the husband of the beautiful woman who provided the tinder.  One day he told her that she must make up her mind to the most rigid retrenchment, give up her box at the opera, and sell her carriage and horses, if she did not wish to risk her whole position in society.  Her creditors had lost all patience, and were threatening to distrain on her property, and even to put her in prison.  She made no reply to this revelation, but during dinner she said to the Count, in a whisper, that she must speak to him later, and would, therefore, come to see him at his house.  When it was dark, she came thickly veiled, and after she had responded to his demonstrations of affection for some time, with more patience than amiableness, she began.  Their conversation is extracted from his diary.

“You are so unconcerned and happy, while misery and disgrace are threatening me!” “Please explain what you mean!” “I have incurred some debts.”  “Again?” he said reproachfully, “why do you not come to me at once, for you must do it in the end, and then at least you would avoid any exposure?” “Please do not take me to task,” she replied; “you know it only makes me angry.  I want some money; can you give me some?” “How much do you want?” She hesitated, for she had not the courage to name the real amount, but at last she said, in a low voice:  “Five thousand florins."[5] It was evidently only a small portion of what she really required, so he replied:  “I am sure you want more than that!” “No.”  “Really not?” “Do not make me angry.”