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Then becoming narrow for a considerable track, it passes by Constantinople, and thence into the Wendel sea, or Mediterranean. The south-west end of Europe is in Ispania or Spain, where it is bounded by the ocean; but the Mediterranean almost closes at the islands called Gades, where stand the pillars of Hercules. To the westward of this same Mediterranean is Scotland .
It's all bunkum; reporters' work and exaggeration. If you like that kind of stuff, it's weird and interesting. But it hurts property. The man was undoubtedly murdered. The tale hangs over the house. It's impossible to dispose of the place." "Then why not sell it to me?" He dropped his pencil; he was a bit nervous. "A fair question, Mr. Wendel a very fair question.
But Fritz Wendel was less patient than his cunning Louise. He could no longer support this torture; and as the fourth day brought no intelligence, and no trace of Louise, he was determined to dare the worst, and, like Alexander, to cut the gordian knot which he could not untie.
The silence was profound. Suddenly stealthy footsteps could be heard, and the figure of a man appeared at the entrance of the grotto. Cautiously he stepped forward, and cast an inquiring glance through the trailing vines which overhung the grotto, to the young girl who still slumbered, reclining on the trunk of the laurel-tree. It was Fritz Wendel, the gardener of Rheinsberg.
He sat behind that portiere that led into the grand saloon; he had just left Louise, and, before going, had said to her, in a stern, commanding tone: "You will fulfil my commands accurately. You know that Fritz Wendel still lives, and that I shall be inexorable if you do not act as you have promised."
But there were four ears which heard every thing; four eyes which saw all that took place in the myrtle arbor. Louise von Schwerin and her lover, the handsome Fritz Wendel, sat arm in arm in the grotto, and listened attentively to the conversation of the prince and his bride. "How happy they are!" whispered Louise, with a sigh.
She saw that he was handsome, young, and charming, and she confessed that this rich uniform was more attractive than the plain, dark coat of the gardener-boy Fritz Wendel. She felt that the eyes of the young cavalier were as glowing and as eloquent as those of her old love. "Well," said he, laughing, "have you decided, mademoiselle?
Fritz Wendel tried to detain her, but the weak and foolish child had gathered courage from the modest words and dignified example of Laura. "If you touch me again, you have seen me for the last time! I will never again return to this grotto!" Fritz Wendel was encouraged by her words; he had not asked her to return, and she had half promised to do so.
The prince looked after them with an expression of confusion and astonishment. "Well, no matter how this riddle is solved," murmured he, after the queen had left the conservatory with her maid of honor, "Laura is safe at all events, and in a week we will flee." Three days had slowly passed by, and Fritz Wendel waited in vain for a sign or message from his beloved.
"Why do you weep, Fritz?" She took his hand, and gazed into his eyes with a most singular expression, half curious, half questioning. Fritz Wendel trembled with delight at her touch, but withdrew his hand almost with violence. "I weep because I am a miserable gardener," he murmured; "I weep because I am not great and noble, like the gentlemen at court."
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