Soon they were in full conversation; they had met but three times in their lives, and yet had so much to say.

At last the young lady reminded him that he must now speak to others, told him to join her when the music began, and, with the majesty of a queen, crossed the room to her mother.
Anton was now hardened against all social terrors, and his embarrassment over and gone.

He joined Fink, who introduced him to a dozen gentlemen, not one of whose names he remembered, caring for them no more than for poplars along a high road.
But this audacious mood vanished when he approached the baroness.

There were the delicate features, the unspeakable refinement, which had so impressed him when he saw her first.

She at once discovered that he was unaccustomed to society, and looked at him with a curiosity not unmingled with some misgiving; but Lenore cut the interview as short as she could by saying that it was time to take their places in the dance.
"He waltzes tolerably--too much swing, perhaps," muttered Fink to himself.
"A distinguished-looking pair," cried Frau von Baldereck, as Anton and Lenore whirled past.
"She talks too much to him," said the baroness to her husband, who happened to join her.
"To him ?" asked he; "who is the young man?
I have never seen the face before." "He is one of the adherents of Herr von Fink--he is alone here--has rich relatives in Russia or America; I do not like the acquaintance for Lenore." "Why not ?" replied the baron; "he looks a good, innocent sort of youth, and is far better suited for this child's-play than the old boys that I see around.