aight-forward, well! I should have
been inclined to say that--in your Conrad--you had wished to be
ironical over those wondrous characters who, in many of our modern
novels, play leading parts--a sort of hash-up of loutishness,
'_galanterie_,' barbarism, and sentimentality who call themselves
'chivalrous,' but of whom, I fancy, there never was a prototype, any
more than of those 'blusterers' whom Veit Weber and his followers used
to portray, knocking everybody into minced meat, right and left, on
every occasion."

Vincent said: "You have brought in the 'Berseker fury' certainly, with
admirable effect. But it is unpardonable in you to have allowed a
nobleman's back to be blued and blacked by the hoop of a cask, without
the blue and blacked aristocrat having broken the head of the dealer of
the blow. He might have begged his pardon politely afterwards, or
applied an Arcanum which would have mended his head in a moment; after
which he would have been aware of a distinct increase in his wisdom.
The only gentleman whom you can quote as a prototype is the valiant
knight Don Quixote, who got many a sound licking, notwithstanding his
magnanimity, braggery, and chivalry."

"Blame as much as you please," said Sylvester, laughing. "I leave
myself entirely in your hands; but let me say that where I find
consolation is in the verdicts of those charming ladies to whom I read
my 'Master Martin,' and who expressed thorough delight with the whole
affair, and overwhelmed me with praise."

"Praise of that sort, from beautiful lips," said Ottmar, "certainly is
wholly irresistible, and capable of leading many a romancer into
wondrous follies, and scriptorial capers of every kind; but, if I am
not mistaken, Lothair promised to finish this evening of ours with one
of the productions of his fantastic dreamery."

"Yes," answered Lothair. "Recollect that I undertook to write a second
story for my sister's children, and to be less wild, and more peaceable
and 'childlike,' than I was in 'Nutcracker and the King of Mice.' The
story is here, and you shall hear it."

Lothair then read:--

THE STRANGER CHILD.

BARON VON BRAKEL OF BRAKELHEIM.

There was once a noble gentleman named The Baron Thaddeus von Brakel,
who lived in the little village of Brakelheim, which he had inherited
from his deceased father, the old Baron von Brakel, and which,
consequently, was his property. The four rustics,