So they gossiped on like old acquaintances.  Young and beautiful as they were, they found the deepest pleasure in one another, and the cold feeling of strangeness melted as by a charm.  They were awakened to the consciousness that half an hour earlier neither of them had an idea of the other’s existence, by the appearance of a girl in the gap in the wall, who seemed very much surprised at the sight of their evident intimacy.  The young lady stood up rather hastily and went a few steps toward the newcomer, a servant-maid, who had brought a cloak for her mistress, and took charge of her album, sunshade, and large straw hat.

“Is it so late already?” she said, with a naive surprise, which left no room for doubt even to Wilhelm’s modesty.

“Certainly, fraulein,” said the maid, pointing with her hand to the distant mountain, whose peaks were already clothed with the orange hue of twilight; then she looked alternately at her young mistress and the strange gentleman, whose handsome face she inwardly noted.

“Do you think of making any stay here?” asked the young lady of Wilhelm, who followed slowly.

“Yes, certainly,” he answered at once.

“Then we may become good friends.  My parents will be glad to make your acquaintance.  I did not tell you before that my father is Herr Ellrich.”

As Wilhelm merely bowed, without seeming to recognize the name, she said rather sharply, and slightly raising her voice: 

“I thought as you came from Berlin you would be sure to know my father’s name—­Councilor Ellrich, Vice-President of the ‘Seehandlung.’”

The name and title made very little impression on Wilhelm, but his politeness brought forth an “Ah!” which satisfied Fraulein Ellrich.  They left the ruins by an easy path which Wilhelm had not noticed before, and walked together to the entrance of the hotel, where she took leave of him by an inclination of her head.  He betook himself to his room in a dream, and while he recalled to his mind the picture of her beautiful face, and the clear ring of her voice, he thought how grateful he was to this chance, that not only had he become acquainted with the girl, but that he had avoided in such a glorious fashion the discomfort of a formal introduction.  Also Wilhelm knew himself well, and felt sure that, badly endowed as he was for forming new acquaintances, he could never have become friends with Fraulein Ellrich apart from the accident of his fall in the castle yard.

Dinner was served at separate tables where single guests might take it as they pleased, and Wilhelm was absentminded and dreamy when he sat down.  He scarcely glanced at the large, cool dining-room, ornamented with engravings of portraits of the Grand Dukes of Baden and their wives.  Six large windows looked into the valley of the Gutach with its little town of Hornberg, and the mountains lying beyond.  He hardly noticed the rather silent people at the other