vivacity. The margravine led
me up to her in the very saloon where Temple, my father, and I had sat
after the finale of the statue scene, saying--

'Our sea-lieutenant.'

'It delights me to hear he has turned University student,' she said; and
in English: 'You have made friends of your books?'

She was dressed in blue velvet to the throat; the hair was brushed from
the temples and bound in a simple knot. Her face and speech, fair and
unconstrained, had neither shadow nor beam directed specially for me. I
replied,

'At least I have been taught to despise idleness.'

'My Professor tells me it is strange for any of your countrymen to love
books.'

'We have some good scholars, princess.'

'You have your Bentley and Porson. Oh! I know many of the world's men
have grown in England. Who can deny that? What we mean is, your society
is not penetrated with learning. But my Professor shall dispute with
you. Now you are facile in our German you can defend yourself. He is a
deep scholar, broad over tongues and dialects, European, Asiatic-a lion
to me, poor little mouse! I am speaking of Herr Professor von Karsteg,
lady aunt.'

'Speak intelligibly, and don't drum on my ear with that hybrid
language,' rejoined the margravine.

'Hybrid! It is my Herr Professor's word. But English is the choice
gathering of languages, and honey is hybrid, unless you condemn the bee
to suck at a single flower.'

'Ha! you strain compliments like the poet Fretzel,' the margravine
exclaimed. 'Luckily, they're not, addressed to human creatures. You will
find the villa dull, Herr Harry Richmond. For my part, every place is
dull to me that your father does not enliven. We receive no company
in the prince's absence, so we are utterly cut off from fools; we have
simply none about us.'

'The deprivation is one we are immensely sensible of!' said the
princess.

'Laugh on! you will some day be aware of their importance in daily life,
Ottilia.'

The princess answered: 'If I could hate, it would be such persons.' A
sentence that hung in the memory of one knowing himself to be animated
by the wildest genius of folly.

We drove to the statue of Prince Albrecht Wohlgemuth, overlooking
leagues of snow-roofed branches. Again Ottilia reverted to Temple,

'That dear little friend of yours who wandered out with you to seek your
father, and is now a sailor! I cannot forget him. It strikes me as a
beautiful piece of the heroism of boys. You both crossed th