Wurzburg,' he said; 'and the other night I saw her face. That is all I
know, friend Engelman, and that is enough for me.' With those sour words,
he walked out of the room. What lamentable prejudice! What an unchristian
way of thinking! The name of Madame Fontaine will never be mentioned
between us again. When that much-injured lady honors me with another
visit, I can only receive her where she will be protected from insult, in
a house of my own."

"Surely you are not going to separate yourself from Mr. Keller?" I said.

"Not for the present. I will wait till your aunt comes here, and brings
that restless reforming spirit of hers into the business. Changes are
sure to follow--and my change of residence may pass as one of them."

He got up to leave the room, and stopped at the door.

"I wish you would come with me, David, to Madame Fontaine's. She is very
anxious to see you." Feeling no such anxiety on my side, I attempted to
excuse myself; but he went on without giving me time to speak--"Nice
little Miss Minna is very dull, poor child. She has no friend of her own
age here at Frankfort, excepting yourself. And she has asked me more than
once when Mr. David would return from Hanau."

My excuses failed me when I heard this. Mr. Engelman and I left the house
together.

As we approached the door of Madame Fontaine's lodgings, it was opened
from within by the landlady, and a stranger stepped out into the street.
He was sufficiently well dressed to pass for a gentleman--but there were
obstacles in his face and manner to a successful personation of the