n all their minutiae, truly
_con amore_, so that the whole affair produced, and left behind it, a
most repulsive impression, which it took a long while to get over. I
was delighted when I had forgotten the horrible thing, and Cyprian
ought not to have recalled it to my memory; although I must admit that
he has acted in accordance with the principles of our patron saint
Serapion, and caused us a sufficient thrill of horror, particularly
towards the end. It made us all turn pale, particularly the narrator
himself!"

"We cannot hurry away too quickly from this gruesome picture," Ottmar
said. "And it will not serve as a dark background (as Vincenz expected
it would), because the figures of it are in too glaring colours. Allow
me, by way of a grand change of subject--a sort of sideways spring away
from the hell-broth which Cyprian has served up to us--to say a word or
two (merely to give Vincenz time to clear his throat, as I hear him
doing) concerning a certain aesthetic tea society, which was brought
to my memory by a little paper which accidentally came into my hand
to-day. Have I your permission, Vincenz?"

"Strictly speaking," said Vincenz, "it is a breach of all Serapiontic
rule to keep chattering in this sort of style; and not only that, but,
moreover, without any especial motive or inducement, the most unseemly
things about gruesome vampires, and other such matters, are brought
forward, so that I am obliged to shut my mouth just as I have got it
opened. But go on, my Ottmar. The hours are flying, and I shall have
the last word, like a quarrelsome woman, in spite of you. So go on, my
Ottmar, go on."

"Chance," began Ottmar, "or rather, a kindly-intentioned introduction,
brought me into the aesthetic tea society which I mentioned; and there
were circumstances which induced me, or rendered it incumbent on me, to
attend its meetings regularly for a time, although heaven knows they
were tedious and wearisome enough. It greatly vexed me that, on an
occasion when a really talented man read something which was full of
true wit, and admirably appropriate to the occasion, all the people
yawned, and grew impatient of it; whilst they were charmed and
delighted by the marrowless, spiritless trash of a conceited young
poetaster. This latter was all in the line of the gushing and the
exuberant, but he also thought very highly of his epigrams. As what
they were chiefly remarkable for was the absence of the sting in their
tails,