mask.

Desiree was glad to see them go. There was a sense of uneasiness, a
vague unrest in the air. There was something amiss. The wedding
party had been a failure. All had gone well and merrily up to a
certain point--at the corner of the Pfaffengasse, when the dusty
travelling carriage passed across their path. From that moment
there had been a change. A shadow seemed to have fallen across the
sunny nature of the proceedings; for never had bride and bridegroom
set forth together with lighter hearts than those carried by Charles
and Desiree Darragon down the steps of the Marienkirche.

During its progress across the whole width of Germany, the carriage
had left unrest behind it. Men had travelled night and day to stand
sleepless by the roadside and see it pass. Whole cities had been
kept astir till morning by the mere rumour that its flying wheels
would be heard in the streets before dawn. Hatred and adoration,
fear and that dread tightening of the heart-strings which is caused
by the shadow of the superhuman, had sprung into being at the mere
sound of its approach.

When therefore it passed across the Frauengasse, throwing its dust
upon Desiree's wedding-dress, it was only fulfilling a mission.
When it broke in upon the lives of these few persons seeking dimly
for their happiness--as the heathen grope for an unknown God--and
threw down carefully constructed plans, swept aside the strongest
will and crushed the stoutest heart, it was only working out its
destiny. The dust sprinkled on Desiree's hair had fallen on the
faces of thousands of dead. The unrest that entered into the quiet
little house on the left-hand side of the Frauengasse had made its