She
sent for a hackney-coach by one of the boys playing in the court-
yard, and then drove away. But she did not order the coachman to
convey her to her godfather, Werkmeister, the merchant on Jager
Street. Driving first to Tauben Street, the carriage stopped in
front of a large, gloomy house. She alighted, and, begging the
coachman to wait for her, slipped into the house. Quickly ascending
three narrow flights of stairs, she reached a silent corridor, on
both sides of which were small doors, and on each a number had been
painted. Knocking at the door of number three, a female voice
inquired, "Who is there?"
"It is I, Leonora Prohaska!"
A loud cry of joy resounded; the door was hastily opened, and a
young soldier in full uniform appeared on the threshold. It was now
Leonora who uttered a cry, and blushing drew back. "Pardon me," she
said, timidly; "there must be a mistake. I am looking for my friend,
a young milliner, named Caroline Peters."
The young soldier laughed, but it was the fresh, ringing laughter of
a girl. "Then you really do not recognize me, Leonora?" he
exclaimed. "You really take me for what I like to be and am not--a
man?"
"Great Heaven! is it you?" exclaimed Leonora. "You--"
"Hush!" whispered the other, hastily drawing her into the room, and
carefully locking the door. "For mercy's sake, let no one hear us!
What a scandal it would be, if it should be discovered that
Volunteer Charles Petersen receives the visits of pretty girls at
his room! This hotel is entirely occupied by volunteers, and none of
them suspect that I am a woman, nor shall they ever find it out.
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