into
it and promised the driver a double fare, if he would overtake the
carriage and not lose sight of it.

They drove through the gate, down Unter den Linden, turned to the right
into Friedrichstrasse, and then to the left into the Jaegerstrasse,
where the equipage stopped before a pretty new house. The little
servant climbed down from the box like a monkey, opened the door, and
followed the lady, who had sprung lightly out, into the house, the
carriage driving off at once.

Edwin dismissed his droschky at the corner of the street, and now with
a throbbing heart walked past the house several times on the opposite
side of the street, gazing at the open windows to see whether the
charming face would not appear at one of them. But there was nothing to
be seen, except in one of the rooms on the second story a flower-stand
containing magnificent palms and other broad-leaved plants, and at the
window near by a large bird-cage with glittering gilded wires. Here,
then, was where she lived. He had in his pocket the best possible
excuse for introducing himself, and yet for a long time he could not
summon up courage to enter the house and mount the stairs.

When he at last nerved himself to this, he lingered a few moments at
the door, trying to recall his somewhat rusty French, in case she
really should not understand German. Then he felt ashamed of his boyish
timidity and pulled the bell so vigorously, that it pealed loudly
through the silent house.

The door was instantly opened, the striped waistcoat appeared, and its
owner stared at the noisy visitor, with a disapproving expression in
his round, watery blue eyes.

"Be kind enough, my little fellow," said Edwin, "to inform your
mistress that some one desires to speak to her, and to return something
she has lost."

"Whom have I the honor--?" asked the well-trained dwarf.

"The name is of no consequence. Do as I have told you."

The boy disappeared, but returned in a short time, during which Edwin
heard no French spoken, and said: "The young lady begs you to walk in
here a moment."

As he spoke he opened the door of a small ante-room, furnished only
with a few elegant cane chairs and a dainty marble table, on which lay
a book and fan.

"What is your name, my boy?" Edwin asked the little fellow, as he
seated himself with much apparent self-possession.

"My real name is Hans Jacob, but my mistress calls me Jean."

"Isn't this your first place, little Jean Jacques