t there a
great many of his friends. After his visit to the baths he had travelled
alone for a few weeks, and saw some famous places of which he had
long heard. A poet was then sitting on the throne of Bavaria, and was
realising his dreams in the creation of an ideal capital. The Black
Forest is a land of romance. He saw Walhalla, too, crowning the Danube
with the genius of Germany, as mighty as the stream itself. Pleasant it
is to wander among the quaint cities here clustering together: Nuremberg
with all its ancient art, imperial Augsburg, and Wurzburg with its
priestly palace, beyond the splendour of many kings. A summer in Suabia
is a great joy.

But what a contrast to the Rue de la Paix, bright and vivacious, in
which he now finds himself, and the companion of the Neuchatel family!
Endymion had only returned to Paris the previous evening, and the
Neuchatels had preceded him by a week; so they had seen everybody and
could tell him everything. Lord and Lady Beaumaris were there, and
Mrs. Rodney their companion, her husband detained in London by some
mysterious business; it was thought a seat in parliament, which Mr.
Tadpole had persuaded him might be secured on a vacancy occasioned by a
successful petition. They had seen the Count of Ferroll, who was going
to dine with them that day, and Endymion was invited to meet him. It was
Adriana's first visit to Paris, and she seemed delighted with it; but
Mrs. Neuchatel preferred the gay capital when it was out of season.
Mr. Neuchatel himself was always in high spirits,--sanguine and
self-satisfied. He was an Orleanist, had always been so, and sympathised
with the apparently complete triumph of his principles--"real liberal
principles, no nonsense; there was more gold in the Bank of France than
in any similar establishment in Europe. After all, wealth is the test
of the welfare of a people, and the test of wealth is the command of
the precious metals. Eh! Mr. Member of Parliament?" And his eye flashed
fire, and he seemed to smack his lips at the very thought and mention of
these delicious circumstances.

They were in a jeweller's shop, and Mrs. Neuchatel was choosing a
trinket for a wedding present. She seemed infinitely distressed. "What
do you think of this, Adriana? It is simple and in good taste. I should
like it for myself, and yet I fear it might not be thought fine enough."

"This is pretty, mamma, and new," and she held before her mother a
bracelet of much splendo