Whereupon
somebody else appears, and with sound of trumpet and drum offers her
his heart, and wishes for hers in return. But her heart is already
bestowed upon somebody, and somebody's heart is in her possession, and
that somebody will neither take back his heart nor give back hers. All
the world exclaims--but have you never read any romances?" I shook my
head. "Well, then, at all events you have taken part in one. In brief,
there was such a jumble with the hearts that somebody--that is, I--had
to take matters in hand. I sprang on my horse one warm summer night,
mounted Fraeulein Flora as the painter Guido on another, and rode
toward the south, to conceal her in one of my lonely castles in Italy
till all the fuss about the hearts should be over. But on the way we
were tracked, and from the balcony of the Italian inn before which you
kept, sound asleep, such admirable watch, Flora suddenly caught sight
of our pursuer." "The crooked Signor, then--" "Was a spy. Therefore we
secretly took to the woods, and left you to travel post alone over
our prearranged route. That misled our pursuer, and my people in the
mountain castle besides; they were hourly expecting the disguised
Flora, and with more zeal than penetration they took you for the
Fraeulein. Even here at the castle they thought Flora was among the
mountains; they inquired about her, they wrote to her--did you not
receive a note?" In an instant I produced the note from my pocket:
"This letter, then--?" "Is addressed to me," said Fraeulein Flora,
who up to this point had seemed to be paying no attention to our
conversation.
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