In his buttonhole he wore the decoration of the 1866 war medal, and when he saw himself in the glass he could say with perfect self-satisfaction, that he looked just as much like an officer as the men in uniform, not even excepting those of the Guard.

Since the campaign of 1866, in which Paul had served in the same company as Wilhelm, they had been firm friends, and on this evening he wished to offer his respects before the manifest possessor of her heart, to one of the greatest heiresses in Berlin, also his gratitude for his introduction to this splendid house, and his tender feelings for his comrade.

In spite of being occupied with his partners he had time to observe Wilhelm, and the sight of him standing alone in the window recess immediately cooled the nervous excitement wrought by the crowd of strangers.

These society gatherings were what he delighted in, and he thought it his duty to try to model his friend in the same way.

It was not without a struggle with himself that he let a dance go by and went over to where Wilhelm stood.
"What a great pity it is that you don't dance." "Fraulein Ellrich has just said the same thing," answered Wilhelm, smiling a little.
"And she is quite right.