er" had
appeared, was the fashion--tight-fitting boots, reaching to the knee,
with yellow tops; white breeches, over which fell the long-bodied green
vest; a gray frock with long pointed tails and large metal buttons,
well-powdered cue, tied with little ribbons, surmounted with a low,
wide-brimmed hat. Only one of the gentlemen wore the gray frock,
according to the faultless Werther costume, a young man of scarcely
thirty years, of fine figure, and proud bearing; a face expressive
and sympathetic, reminding one of the glorious portraits of men which
antiquity has bequeathed to us. It seemed like the head of a god
descended to earth, noble in every feature, full of grace and beauty;
the slightly Roman nose well marked yet delicate; the broad, thoughtful
brow; the cheeks flushed with the hue of youth and power; the
well-defined chin and red lips, expressive of goodness, benevolence,
roguery, and haughtiness; large, expressive eyes, flashing with the
fire which the gods had enkindled. His companion was perhaps eight years
younger, less well-proportioned, still of graceful appearance, in his
youthful freshness, with frank, cheerful mien, clever, good-natured,
sparkling eyes, and red, pouting lips, which never liked to cease
chatting.

"See, Wolff! I beg," said the young man, "see that old waddling duck,
Mollendorf. I know the old fellow, he is from Gotha; he imagines himself
of the greatest importance, and thinks Prussia begets fame and honor
from his grace. He trumpets forth his own glories at a dinner, and
abuses his king. He makes Frederick the Great an insignificant little
being, that he may look over him."

"Unimportant men always do that," answered the other. "They would make
great men small, and think by placing themselves on high pedestals they
become great. The clown striding through the crowd on his stilts may
even look over an emperor. But fortunately there comes a time when
the dear clown must come down from his stilts, and then it is clear
to others, if not to himself, what little, earth-born snips the men of
yesterday are."

"Only look, Wolff, there is just such a moment coming to that stiltsman
Mollendorf. How the great man stoops, and how small he looks on his gray
horse, for a greater springs past! Look at him well, Wolff--we shall
dine with him, and he does not like to be stared at in the face."

"Is that, then, Prince Henry passing?" asked Wolff, with animation;
"That little general, who just gallope