people call me Lizzie, only Lizzie; do not forget that!"

"People here call her 'beautiful Lizzie,'" said the officer in a low
voice, casting an admiring glance on the young girl.

"That does not concern you, sir," she replied, blushing like a
crimson rose; "you do not belong to the people here, and you must
not call me anything but Lizzie, do you hear? I think the notions
which city folks entertain about beauty are different from those of
peasants like us. We consider the daisy and the Alpine rose
beautiful; though they are but small flowers, yet they suit us.
However, the city folks laugh at our taste, and step recklessly on
our flowers. They consider only the proud white lilies and the large
gorgeous roses beautiful flowers. I do not belong to them, I am only
a daisy; but my Elza likes this daisy and fastens me to her bosom,
and I rest there so soft and sweetly."

She encircled Elza's neck with her arms, leaned her head against her
breast, and looked tenderly up to her with her hazel gazelle eyes.

Elza bent over her and kissed her eyes and white forehead. Ulrich
von Hohenberg looked at them both with a tender, ardent glance; then
he averted his head to conceal the crimson glow suffusing his
cheeks.

At this moment the door opened, and the castellan's overseer entered
with an air of hurry and self-importance.

"Miss Elza," he said, "the wood-cutters have brought wood and are
waiting for a receipt. Besides, the head dairy-woman wishes to see