The dead tryst — Context and Discussion

I. TWO COUSINS II. CHARLIE PIERREPONT III. THE DREADED MEETING IV. CHARLIE IN LOVE V. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE DOM KIRCHE VI. AN ALARM VII. AMONG THE BREAKERS VIII. CHARLIE'S VISITOR IX. FOR LIFE AND DEATH X. TO THE RHINE! XI. SEPARATED XII. THE BAPTISM OF FIRE XIII. THE DREAM IN THE BIVOUAC XIV. THE LETTER OF ERNESTINE XV. WHAT THE 'EXTRA BLATT' TOLD XVI. IN FRONT OF METZ XVII. FACING A BATTERY OF MITRAILLEUSES XVIII. IN THE ENEMY'S HANDS XIX. THE CHATEAU DE CAILLÉ XX. ERNESTINE XXI. AT AIX ONCE MORE XXII. AT BURTSCHEID CONCLUSION

On an evening in summer before the late siege of Paris, three ladies--one a matron of mature years, the other two both young and handsome girls, a brunette and a blonde--were seated in one of the lofty windows of a stately room on the first _étage_ of the Grand Hotel Royal, which immediately overlooks the Rhine at Cologne.

The senior of these--Adelaide, Countess of Frankenburg, a woman grey-haired now, and with features somewhat of the heavy German type--had just received a letter, and was intent upon it, while her daughter Ernestine, and her orphan niece Herminia, watched her face with interest, and forgot the little Tauchnitz editions over which they had been idling.

'What does my brother Heinrich say?' asked Ernestine.

'That he has got extended leave of absence from Potsdam, and next week will arrive at Frankenburg, to spend some time with us. He brings with him a young English friend, Carl Pierrepont, an officer of his regiment. I trust, Herminia, you will receive my dear boy with all the affection he so justly merits.'

But Herminia made no reply, so the Countess repeated what she had said, and fixed her eyes steadily and inquiringly upon her. She only sighed, opened, and then tossed aside her Tauchnitz edition of an English novel. The Countess's ideas of propriety would not permit her to allow her girls to peruse any other light literature; but having an idea that a married woman might read works of a higher-flavoured nature, she sometimes read the works of MM. Dumas and De Kock, to 'keep up her French,' as she phrased it

The cousins--known as 'the Belles of Frankenburg'--were alike in stature and delicacy, but very dissimilar in style of beauty and in complexion. Herminia was dazzlingly fair, of a pure Saxon type, with hair of that lovely brown tint which seems shot with gold in the sunshine, and soft eyes of violet-blue, that seemed almost black at night, and though brown her tresses, and wondrously fair her skin, her eyelashes and eyebrows were dark, almost black; but her pretty little nose bordered rather on the _retroussé_.

Ernestine was a dark beauty, with black hair and clear, but thoughtful and dreamy hazel eyes, which she inherited with the blood of some Hungarian ancestor; her whole style was more classic than that of her cousin. Her nose was slightly aquiline, with dark straight eyebrows that nearly met over it, imparting a great degree of character to her face, which was suggestive of decision of mind and firmness of purpose--a little self-willed and opinionated, perhaps; for Ernestine was not without her faults. She was fond of admiration; but what pretty girl is not? She liked dress and gaiety, and would dance all night if her partners pleased her.

The Countess carefully folded her son's letter, and fixing her keen grey eyes on Herminia, said, somewhat sententiously:

'Though an old man now, the father of my Heinrich was as brave a soldier as ever trod the soil of Germany, and his name is yet venerated among the Uhlans of the Archduke; and I am proud to say, Herminia, that his son is worthy of such a father.'

'Were my cousin the Archduke himself,' said Herminia, wearily, for she was pretty well used to hear these encomiums, 'he would be totally indifferent to me.'

'Totally, I repeat. Pardon me, dear Aunt Adelaide; but he has no particular claim on my regard.'

'He is your cousin, your own blood relation--near almost as a brother!' said the Countess, impatiently.

'But still, mamma, as I have said a hundred times before, he can have no claim upon her hand,' urged Ernestine, who had not yet spoken on the subject.

'Do you, Grafine, wish to abet Herminia in her strange contumacy?' asked the Countess, severely.

'I speak but my thoughts, dearest mamma.'