When she reached the grass-plot station that had once so enchanted Anton, she stood still, and pointed to the gravel-walk, saying, "That way leads to the lake, and this to the garden again." Bernhard looked up in amazement at the castle and its turrets, its balcony and creeping plants, and exclaimed, "I have seen all this before, and yet I have never been here." "And certainly," said Lenore, "the castle has never been to the town; there may be others like it." "No," replied Bernhard, trying to collect his ideas, "no; I have seen a drawing of it in a friend's room.

He must know you," cried he, with delight; "and yet he never told me so." "What is your friend's name ?" "Anton Wohlfart." The lady turned round at once with sudden animation.

"Wohlfart?
a clerk in T.O.Schroeter's house?
Is it he?
And this gentleman is your friend?
How did you become acquainted with him ?" And she stood before Bernhard with her hands behind her back, like a severe schoolmistress cross-examining a little thief about a stolen apple.
Bernhard told her how he had learned to know and love Anton; and in doing so, he lost some of his embarrassment, while the young lady lost some of her haughty indifference.
She asked him many questions about his friend, and Bernhard grew eloquent as he replied.
Then she led him through the park, as once she had led Anton.

Bernhard was a son of the city.

It was not the lofty, wide-spreading trees, nor the gay flower-beds, nor the turreted castle which made an impression on him; his eyes were riveted on Lenore alone.