He forgot the wishes of his parents, their plans for his future, and his
quiet, warm attachment for his youth's playfellow, Regine. He had eyes
no longer for the simple woodland flower, which yet bloomed young and
fresh for him; but, inhaling the fragrance of the strange and beautiful
exotic, all else sank into insignificance. In an unguarded hour he threw
himself at her feet, and told her of his love.

Strangely enough, Zalika returned his affection. Perhaps it was
according to the old adage of extremes meeting, for this man was, in
every particular, her opposite; perhaps it flattered her to see that a
word, a glance from her, could so powerfully effect this earnest, quiet
officer, who, even then, had a touch of melancholy in his disposition.
Enough, she accepted him, and with joy he clasped his affianced bride in
his arms.

The news of their betrothal aroused a storm in the family circle. From
all sides came objections and warnings. Zalika's mother and step-father
were sorely opposed to it, but resistance only increased the ardor of
the young lovers. The engagement, in spite of kinsfolk, was soon an
established fact, and six months later Falkenried took his young bride
to his own house.

But the voices which had foretold unhappiness from this marriage were
prophetic.

It was not long before the brief intoxication of joy was followed by
bitter disenchantment. It had been a fatal error to believe a woman like
Zalika Rojanow, who had grown up in the unrestrained freedom of a
disorderly, extravagant Bojar family, could accommodate herself to the