"Take your spoon out of your cup, and I will fill it immediately," said Sabine, laughing, as she rose to greet her old acquaintance. Meanwhile, Anton amused himself by listening to the remarks made on his party by the passers-by. "That is Herr von Fink," whispered a young lady to her companion. "A pretty face; a capital figure," drawled a lieutenant. "What is one among so many?" muttered another idler. "Hush! those are the Schröters," said a clerk to his brother. Then two tall handsome forms came slowly by--Dame Ehrenthal and Rosalie. Rosalie passed next to the table: a deep flush suffused her face. She threw a troubled glance at Fink, who, in spite of the lively conversation he was carrying on with Sabine, had eyes for every thing that was going on. Anton rose to bow; and the imperturbable Fink coolly took off his hat, and looked at the two ladies with as much unconcern as though he had never admired the bracelets on Rosalie's white arm. Anton's bow, Rosalie's striking beauty, and, perhaps, some peculiarity in their dress, had attracted Sabine's attention.
Ehrenthal's daughter did not heed the bow, but fixed her dark eyes on Sabine, whom she took for her fortunate rival, with such a flashing glance of anger and hatred that Sabine shrank as though to avoid the spring of a beast of prey.
Fink's lip curled, and he slightly shrugged his shoulders. When the ladies had passed by, Sabine asked who they were.
"Some acquaintances of Anton's," said he, satirically.
Anton named them as the mother and sister of the young student of whom he had lately told her.
Sabine was silent, and leaned back on the bench; her gay spirits were over. The conversation flagged; and when her brother returned from a visit to the next table, she rose and invited the party to come and see her garden. Again the nebula followed her, but Fink was no longer at her side. That burning glance had withered the green tendrils that had been drawing them together. Sabine turned to Anton, and tried to be cheerful, but he saw the effort it cost her.
This large garden, with its hot-houses and conservatories, was one of Sabine's favorite resorts, both in summer and winter. While the merchant carried off Fink to look at a plot of neighboring ground which he thought of buying, the clerks besieged Sabine with questions as to the names and peculiarities of the different plants. She showed them a great palm-tree that her brother had given her, tropical ferns, gorgeous cactuses, and told them that she often drank coffee under these large leaves on sunny winter days. Just then the gardener came up to her with crumbs of bread and bird-seed on a plate. "Even when I have not so large a party with me as to-day, I am not quite alone," said she.