inued in this vein,
and afforded much interesting information in regard to the names of
poetic characters. Lessing had acted wisely, substituting for the name
of Melchisedek--Boccaccio's Jew--that of Nathan, for the very name
reminds one of an all-embracing garment. How appropriate are the names
which Goethe has given his female characters--Gretchen, Claerchen,
Dorothea, Natalie. Even Schiller had frequently been happy in his
choice of names, as, for instance, Franz Mohr--Posa--how sonorous are
the O and the A.

Schnabelsdorf's conversation was both fluent and pleasing. How
fortunate it is to be so well informed, and to be able to impart one's
knowledge to others, without troubling one's-self about moods, broken
cups, or ill-humored people looking at illustrated papers.

As no one seemed inclined to assist Schnabelsdorf, he was obliged to
monopolize the conversation. At last Irma took pity on him and
carelessly remarked how strange it was that no proper names were
invented in our day, and that all we could do was to borrow, combine,
or abbreviate those which already existed.

This suggested various unsuccessful, but mirth-provoking, attempts to
invent new names.

The intendant told them of a peasant whom he knew and who had named the
first of his daughters Prima, the second Secunda, the third Tertia, and
so on.

The king scarcely ever looked up from the illustrated papers that lay
before him, but the queen was affable and kindly toward all who took
part in the conversation. She felt grateful to every one who spoke, for
something had happened to her which she had really not desired. She
was, even now, as ignorant of the false construction which might be put
upon her motive in selecting "Emilia Galotti," as she was of having
intended to break the cup. It was evident that the king's mind was
agitated, for he frequently passed his hand over his brows as if to
smooth them, and it was his wont to indulge in this movement whenever
he felt it necessary to repress his excitement. His first thought had
been: Is she really ignorant that the play has, for many years, been a
forbidden one? Perhaps she is, for those who measure life by their own
feelings have no sense for historic data. But suddenly a thought
occurred to him--and he again stroked his eyebrows--it is an intrigue,
and she is capable of it. She means to lay a trap _a la_ Hamlet, in
order to see what effect the play will have upon us. But no, thought he
to himself