deceive--one is at your right hand, the other at your left. The former
is fair-haired; the glance of his eyes is deep and constant. It is he, I
think--But no! His image is fading, and you are turning your back upon
him. You do it intentionally. No, no, you two are not destined for each
other. You think of the one with the waving black hair and beard--of him
alone. He is growing more and more distinct--a handsome man, and how his
brow shines! Yet his glance--it sees more than that of many others, but,
like the rest of his nature, it lacks steadfastness."

Here she paused, raised her shaking head, looked at Ledscha's flushed
face, and in a grave, warning tone, said: "Many signs of happiness, but
also many dark shadows and black spots. If he is the one, child, you
must be on your guard."

"He is," murmured the girl softly, as if speaking to herself.

But the deaf old crone had read the words from her lips, and while gazing
intently at the wine, went on impatiently: "If the picture would only
grow more distinct! As it was, so it has remained. And now! The image
of the fair man with the deep-blue eyes melts away entirely, and a gray
cloud flutters between you and the other one with the black beard. If it
would only scatter! But we shall never make any progress in this way.
Now pay attention, girl."

The words had an imperious tone, and with outstretched head and throbbing
heart Ledscha awaited the old woman's further commands.

They came at once and ordered her to confess, as freely and openly as
though she was talking to herself, where she had met the man whom she
loved, how he had succeeded in snaring her heart, and how he repaid her