of character, a scientifically exhaustive comparison of tastes,
ideas and opinions; a profound study of their respective chins, noses,
eyes, hands, heights, complexions, moles and freckles, with some account
of their several friends.

In this occupation, which was profitably varied by the confession of
what they had each thought and felt and dreamt concerning the other at
every instant since they met, they passed rapidly the days which the
persistent anxiety of General Triscoe interposed before the date of
their leaving Weimar for Paris, where it was arranged that they should
spend a month before sailing for New York. Burnamy had a notion, which
Agatha approved, of trying for something there on the New York-Paris
Chronicle; and if he got it they might not go home at once. His gains
from that paper had eked out his copyright from his book, and had almost
paid his expenses in getting the material which he had contributed
to it. They were not so great, however, but that his gold reserve was
reduced to less than a hundred dollars, counting the silver coinages
which had remained to him in crossing and recrossing frontiers. He was
at times dimly conscious of his finances, but he buoyantly disregarded
the facts, as incompatible with his status as Agatha's betrothed, if not
unworthy of his character as a lover in the abstract.

The afternoon before they were to leave Weimar, they spent mostly in the
garden before the Grand-Ducal Museum, in a conference so important that
when it came on to rain, at one moment, they put up Burnamy's umbrella,
and continued to sit under it rather than interrupt the proceedings even
to let Agatha go back to the hotel and look after her father's packing.
Her own had been finished before dinner, so as to leave her the whole
afternoon for their conference, and to allow her father to remain in
undisturbed possession of his room as long as possible.

What chiefly remained to be put into the general's trunk were his coats
and trousers, hanging in the closet, and August took these down, and
carefully folded and packed them. Then, to make sure that nothing had
been forgotten, Agatha put a chair into the closet when she came in, and
stood on it to examine the shelf which stretched above the hooks.

There seemed at first to be nothing on it, and then there seemed to be
something in the further corner, which when it was tiptoed for, proved
to be a bouquet of flowers, not so faded as to seem very old; the bl