l
about the appointment; so that it was rumored, and rightly, that an
international importance was to be attached to the incident, and a
delicate compliment to be perceived in the selection of so popular a
link between the Anglo-Saxon and the Teutonic peoples. Accordingly "Die
Wacht am Rhein" was played by the Guards' band down the entire length
of Ebury Street, photographs of the Baroness appeared in all the leading
periodicals, and Society, after its own less demonstrative but equally
sincere fashion, prepared to welcome the distinguished visitors.

They arrived in town upon a delightful day in July, somewhat late in
the London season, to be sure, yet not too late to be inundated with a
snowstorm of cards and invitations to all the smartest functions that
remained. For the first few weeks, at least, you would suppose the Baron
to have no time for thought beyond official receptions and unofficial
dinners; yet as he looked from his drawing-room windows into the gardens
of Belgrave Square upon the second afternoon since they had settled into
this great mansion, it was not upon such functions that his fancy ran.
Nobody was more fond of gaiety, nobody more appreciative of purple and
fine linen, than the Baron von Blitzenberg; but as he mused there he
began to recall more and more vividly, and with an ever rising pleasure,
quite different memories of life in London. Then by easy stages regret
began to cloud this reminiscent satisfaction, until at last he sighed--

"Ach, my dear London! How moch should I enjoy you if I were free!"

For the benefit of those who do not know the Baron either personally or
by repute, he may briefly be described as an admirably typical Teuton.
When he first visited England (some five years previously) he stood
for Bavarian manhood in the flower; now, you behold the fruit. As
magnificently mustached, as ruddy of skin, his eye as genial, and his
impulses as hearty; he added to-day to these two more stone of Teutonic
excellences incarnate.

In his ingenuous glance, as in the more rounded contour of his
waistcoat, you could see at once that fate had dealt kindly with him.
Indeed, to hear him sigh was so unwonted an occurrence that the Baroness
looked up with an air of mild surprise.

"My dear Rudolph," said she, "you should really open the window. You are
evidently feeling the heat."

"No, not ze heat," replied the Baron.

He did not turn his head towards her, and she looked at him more
anxio