or in the garden, where each evening the students resorted to sup, and listen to the music of the Jâger band. Eisendecker and Mühry were names that no one ever heard separated, and when one appeared the other was never more than a few yards off. Such was their friendship, when an unhappy incident occurred to trouble its even course, and sow dissension between these who never had known a passing difference in their lives. The sub-rector of Göttingen was in the habit of giving little receptions every week, to which many of the students were invited, and to which Eisendecker and Mühry were frequently asked, as they both belonged to the professor’s class. In the quiet world of a little University town, these soirées were great occasions; and the invited plumed themselves not a little on the distinction of a card which gave the privilege of bowing in the Herr professor’s drawing-room, and kissing the hand of his fair daughter the Frederica von Ettenheim, the belle of Göttingen. Frederica was the prettiest German girl I ever saw; for this reason, that having been partly educated at Paris, French _espièglerie_ relieved what had been otherwise the too regular monotony of her Saxon features, and imparted a character of sauciness--or _fierté_ is a better word--to that quietude which is too tame to give the varied expression so charming in female beauty. The _esprit_, that delicious ingredient which has been so lamentably omitted in German character, she had imbibed from her French education; and in lieu of that plodding interchange of flat commonplaces which constitute the ordinary staple of conversation between the young of opposite sexes beyond the Rhine, she had imported the light, delicate tone of Parisian raillery--the easy and familiar gaiety of French society, so inexpressibly charming in France, and such a boon from heaven when one meets it by accident elsewhere. Oh, confess it, ye who, in the dull round of this world’s so-called pleasure, in the Eryboean darkness of the dinners and evening parties of your fashionable friends, sit nights long, speaking and answering, half at random, without one thought to amuse, without one idea to interest you--what pleasure have you felt when some chance expression, some remark--a mere word, perhaps--of your neighbour beside you, reveals that she has attained that wondrous charm, that most fascinating of all possessions--the art to converse; that neither fearful of being deemed pedantic on the one hand, or uninformed on the other, she launches forth freely on the topic of the moment, gracefully illustrating her meaning by womanly touches of sensibility and delicacy, as though to say, these lighter weapons were her own peculiar arms, while men might wield the more massive ones of sense and judgment. Then with what lightness she flits along from theme to theme, half affecting to infer that she dares not venture deep, yet showing every instant traits of thoughtfulness and reflection!