"I am not staying here at all. I am going back to Lorbeerstadt to sleep, and to-morrow to Altenweg, and then to many places for many days." "Oh! I thought you would have supped with me, and I could have a little initiated you. But if you are really returning to Lorbeerstadt, pray use my carriage, which is waiting in the yard." "You are only too amiable, my dear André. We shall use it with the greatest pleasure." Oh! how black did André look when Seraphael laid that small, delicate stress upon the "we;" for I knew the invitation intended his colleague, and included no one else. But the other evidently took it all for granted; and again thanking him with exquisite gayety, ran out into the court-yard, and cried to me to come and see the carriage. "I have a little coach myself," he said to me and also to André, who was lounging behind along with us; "but it is a toy compared with yours, and I wonder I did not put it into my pocket, it is so small,--only large enough for thee and me, Carlomein." "Why, Seraphael, you are dreaming. There are no such equipages in all Vienna as your father's and mother's." "They are not mine, you see; and if I drove such, I should look like a sparrow in a hencoop. Oh, Carlomein, what quantities of sparrows there are in London! Do they live upon the smuts?" At this instant the carriage, whose driver André had beckoned to draw up, approached; and then we both ran to fetch Aronach, who came out very grumbling, for the entry in the long book was scarcely dry; and he saluted nobody, but marched after us like a person suddenly wound up, putting himself heavily into the carriage, which he did not notice in the least. It was an open carriage, Paris-built (as I now know), and so luxuriously lined as not to be very fit for an expedition in any but halcyon weather. As for Seraphael, he flung himself upon the seat as a cowslip ball upon the grass, and scarcely shook the light springs; and as I followed him, he made a profound bow to the owner of the equipage, who, disconsolately enough, still stood within the porch. "Now, I do enjoy this, Carlomein! I cannot help loving to be saucy to André,--good, excellent, and wonderful as he is." I looked to find whether he was in earnest. But I could not tell, for his eyes were grave, and the lips at rest. But Aronach gave a growl, though mildly,--as the lion might growl in the day when a little child shall lead him. "You have not conquered that weakness yet, and, I prophesy, never will." "What weakness, master?" But he faltered, even as a little child. "To excuse fools and fondle slaves." "Oh, my master, do not scold me!" and he covered his eyes with his little blue-veined hands. "It is so sad to be a fool or a slave that we should do all for such we can do, especially if we are not so ourselves. I think myself right there."