peculiarities had for a long time past
afforded food for mystification. Of this, however, I was not aware;
although, in the present instance, I saw clearly that something of a
whimsical nature was upon the tapis with my friend, and that Hermann was
its especial object.

As the former proceeded in his discourse, or rather monologue I
perceived the excitement of the latter momently increasing. At length
he spoke; offering some objection to a point insisted upon by R., and
giving his reasons in detail. To these the Baron replied at length
(still maintaining his exaggerated tone of sentiment) and concluding, in
what I thought very bad taste, with a sarcasm and a sneer. The hobby
of Hermann now took the bit in his teeth. This I could discern by
the studied hair-splitting farrago of his rejoinder. His last words I
distinctly remember. "Your opinions, allow me to say, Baron von Jung,
although in the main correct, are, in many nice points, discreditable
to yourself and to the university of which you are a member. In a few
respects they are even unworthy of serious refutation. I would say more
than this, sir, were it not for the fear of giving you offence (here the
speaker smiled blandly), I would say, sir, that your opinions are not
the opinions to be expected from a gentleman."

As Hermann completed this equivocal sentence, all eyes were turned upon
the Baron. He became pale, then excessively red; then, dropping his
pocket-handkerchief, stooped to recover it, when I caught a glimpse of
his countenance, while it could be seen by no one else at the table.
It was radiant with the quizzical expression which was its natural
character, but which I had never seen it assume except when we were
alone together, and when he unbent himself freely. In an instant
afterward he stood erect, confronting Hermann; and so total an
alteration of countenance in so short a period I certainly never saw
before. For a moment I even fancied that I had misconceived him, and
that he was in sober earnest. He appeared to be stifling with passion,
and his face was cadaverously white. For a short time he remained
silent, apparently striving to master his emotion. Having at length
seemingly succeeded, he reached a decanter which stood near him, saying
as he held it firmly clenched "The language you have thought proper to
employ, Mynheer Hermann, in addressing yourself to me, is objectionable
in so many particulars, that I have neither temper nor time for
spe