“I have been waiting for you, Sabina,” said Gustav, approaching briskly in the midst of Heinrich’s observations. He held a new full glass of wine in his hand.

“Hello, Gustav,” she said politely.

“Come,” he said, laying his free hand on her arm and attempting to lead her away. “I have been saving my dancing feet just for you!”

“I only just arrived, Gustav,” Sabina objected, glancing at her mother with an imploring expression.

“All the more reason not to delay! Come, Sabina. I have a surprise for you I am saving for later. But now, I want you to dance with me.”

From his vantage point with his father, Matthew had seen the Dortmanns arrive. While he stood taking in the changes in Sabina, he watched Gustav walk abruptly away from Brigitte, observed the exchange, and then saw Gustav lead her toward the music at the far end of the hall, where many of the guests were already waltzing to the sounds of Johann Strauss.

He was still staring after them when a voice sounded beside him and a hand laid itself on his arm.

“Perhaps today I might be able to interest you in conversation, Mr. McCallum,” said Brigitte, flashing him a smile even he could not refuse.

Matthew turned, smiling a somewhat awkward greeting.

“Without my cousin here, surely you could find some time for me,” she added.

“I honestly didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Just that you found farm talk more interesting than me,” she said, turning on her pout.

Matthew laughed. “I’m sorry, it really wasn’t that at all.”

They continued to chat lightly, but even as they did, Matthew’s eyes were following Sabina’s movements with Gustav.

He was surprised to see that she had hardly changed at all.

And yet, as he continued to observe her, he realized she had changed tremendously.

What a fascinating face she had! One moment she looked like the fun-loving child he had ridden with on horseback the next moment she was a grown woman. The long dress of pale green was highlighted with fresh flowers at her waist and also in her light hair. It was one only a woman of poise and sophistication could wear. At the same time her face was so lively with expression.

Meanwhile, Otto had seen his brother and now approached. The two shook hands and visited amiably for a while.

Seeing Otto with the man he assumed to be his brother, Emil Korsch excused himself from Göring and slowly approached.

“Otto, my friend,” he said with a wide smile, “this must be your brother you were telling me about.”

“Yes, it is, Herr Korsch,” replied Otto, a bit more nervously than he could hide. “Meet Baron Heinrich von Dortmann. Heinrich, may I present Herr… uh, Herr Emil Korsch, who is with—”