As for Bernardine, she had to look at Robert Allitsen several times to be sure that he was the same Robert Allitsen she had known two hours ago in Petershof.

But she made no remark, and showed no surprise, but met his merriness half way.

No one could be a cheerier companion than herself when she chose.
At last they arrived at Loschwitz.

The sledge wound its way through the sloshy streets of the queer little village, and finally drew up in front of the Gasthaus.

It was a black sunburnt chalet, with green shutters, and steps leading up to a green balcony.