It always pleased him very much when his friends confidentially assured him that he had a perfect satyr-like countenance.
His wife was a young, chubby, lively lady with smiling blue eyes unacquainted with sorrow, whom her husband on the occasion of a _bal pare_ at Vienna had seen, fallen in love with, and carried off, although the girl's father, a retired Field-marshal, was quite ready to surrender her--they preferred, however, the romance of an elopement.
The countess received her lady-guest with the most effusive heartiness, called her by her Christian name on the spot, and invited her to do that same with her.

She told Henrietta she was to feel quite at home, dragged her all over the castle, and showed her in rapid succession her rare flowers, her Parisian furniture, her Japanese curiosities; played something for her on the piano, made her parrot talk to her and incontinently popped on her finger a large and beautiful opal ring, which she told her she was to keep as an eternal souvenir.
Then the countess seized the hand of the child-wife and led her into her bed-chamber.

On the wall hung a fine large battle-piece, a splendid oil painting by a Viennese master.
"A magnificent picture, is it not ?" enquired the countess with a broad smile.
"Yes," replied Henrietta absently.
"How do you like the central figure?
I mean the hero on horseback with the standard in his hand ?" "He is handsome, but it seems to me that, situated as he is, he smiles too much." The countess laughed loudly at this remark.
"That," said she, "is the portrait of a young hussar officer who for a long time paid his court to me.

I could not, of course, keep his portrait in my room, for there everyone would know all about it, so I had a battle-piece painted in all round, and nobody suspects anything.
Oh! my friend, if women were not so inventive, they would often be very unhappy.

But that, mind! is a secret; not a soul must know about it." Henrietta grew pensive.