"THE Golden Star," Homburg, was a humble hotel, not used by gay gamblers, but by modest travelers.
    At two o'clock, one fine day in June, there were two strangers in the _salle a' manger,_ seated at small tables a long way apart, and wholly absorbed in their own business.
    One was a lady about twenty-four years old, who, in the present repose of her features, looked comely, sedate, and womanly, but not the remarkable person she really was. Her forehead high and white, but a little broader than sculptors affect; her long hair, coiled tight, in a great many smooth snakes, upon her snowy nape, was almost flaxen, yet her eyebrows and long lashes not pale but a reddish brown; her gray eyes large and profound;