castle with pointed towers, ghosts in the cellars, and various legends
of assassinations, assaults and abductions which enlivened its history
in an interesting way. An architect, decorated with many foreign orders,
and bearing the title of "Councillor of Construction," was engaged
to modernize the mediaeval edifice without sacrificing its terrifying
aspect. The Romantica described in anticipation the receptions in the
gloomy salon, the light diffused by electricity, simulating torches,
the crackling of the emblazoned hearth with its imitation logs bristling
with flames of gas, all the splendor of modern luxury combined with the
souvenirs of an epoch of omnipotent nobility--the best, according to
her, in history. And the hunting parties, the future hunting parties!
. . . in an annex of sandy and loose soil with pine woods--in no way
comparable to the rich ground of their native ranch, but which had the
honor of being trodden centuries ago by the Princes of Brandenburg,
founders of the reigning house of Prussia. And all this advancement in a
single year! . . .

They had, of course, to compete with other oversea families who had
amassed enormous fortunes in the United States, Brazil or the Pacific
coast; but these were Germans "without lineage," coarse plebeians who
were struggling in vain to force themselves into the great world by
making donations to the imperial works. With all their millions, the
very most that they could ever hope to attain would be to marry their
daughters with ordinary soldiers. Whilst Karl! . . . The relatives of
Karl! . . . and the Romantica let her pen run on, glorifying a family in
whose bosom she fancied she had been born.

From time to time were enclosed with Elena's effusions brief, crisp
notes directed to Desnoyers. The brother-in-law continued giving an
account of his operations the same as when living on the ranch under