antiquated architecture. The street was blocked with equipages;
carriages one after the other drew up in front of the brilliantly
illuminated doorway. At one moment there stepped out onto the pavement
the well-shaped little foot of some young beauty, at another the heavy
boot of a cavalry officer, and then the silk stockings and shoes of a
member of the diplomatic world. Fur and cloaks passed in rapid
succession before the gigantic porter at the entrance. Hermann
stopped. "Whose house is this?" he asked of the watchman at the
corner.

"The Countess A----'s," replied the watchman.

Hermann started. The strange story of the three cards again presented
itself to his imagination. He began walking up and down before the
house, thinking of its owner and her strange secret. Returning late to
his modest lodging, he could not go to sleep for a long time, and when
at last he did doze off, he could dream of nothing but cards, green
tables, piles of banknotes, and heaps of ducats. He played one card
after the other, winning uninterruptedly, and then he gathered up the
gold and filled his pockets with the notes. When he woke up late the
next morning, he sighed over the loss of his imaginary wealth, and
then sallying out into the town, he found himself once more in front
of the Countess's residence. Some unknown power seemed to have
attracted him thither. He stopped and looked up at the windows. At one
of these he saw a head with luxuriant black hair, which was bent down,
probably over some book or an embroidery frame. The head was raised.
Hermann saw a fresh complexion, and a pair of dark eyes. That moment
decided his fate.