COUNTESS PAULA. (continued 2)

I got no further; for, rejoicing, he interrupted me:

“You! You! You then are willing to be that faithful, devoted companion? And to me is to be granted that rare fortune—highest of all earthly joys—to find in the wife of my soul the sharer of my views, the confidante of all, even my boldest aims; my counselor in doubt, sweetest consoler in sorrow, closest sympathizer in success? You will be to me all that? All—despite everybody?”

“It will not need to be despite everybody,” I made answer, confused by the passionate delight with which he pressed me to him. “I will entreat my dear father——”

“Your father!” he cried. And springing back, he struck his forehead like one possessed.

And I, to my great amazement, looking up, saw my father and Bernhard standing there.

“Well!” said papa; “kept your word?”

“Do not ask me. Do not ask me!” cried Schwarzburg, beside himself.

With a loud laugh, Bernhard cried:

“What, have you not succeeded in persuading her against Baron Schwarzburg? I am jolly glad!”

“I am not,” responded papa. “It is as I expected. But then, I am no idealist; I know mankind.”

Bernhard blurted out, “If he had really been such a Don Quixote as to——”

“Be still!” said my father authoritatively.

But he continued: “I would have cut him dead.”

Here a footman announced that mamma awaited the gentlemen in the small drawing room. They obeyed the summons at once; papa sending me up to my own room. Here I still am. They seem to have quite forgotten me; or else they will have no more to say to me. No one seems to trouble about me. Oh, if I had not you, my faithful Diary, in which to confide my every thought, I should indeed be greatly, greatly to be pitied.