I offered the use of my carriage, but Angelica was bent upon trying her Andalusian horses for the first time. Indeed, it hardly seemed safe to trust ourselves with the suspicious animals, and there was something unpleasantly strange in the idea of being driven by a poodle-dog; but Angelica desired it, her mother coincided in her wishes, and I, as cavalier-servante, must obey. However, I quietly calculated the chances of the venture, and seized an opportunity, when Angelica and her mother were looking another way, to put my little cap upon my head, under my hat, and then felt prepared for any emergency. Should the horses run away, I had only to seize upon the princess and wish myself, with her, upon the parade ground in Berlin, or any other place I might choose—and we should be at once safe and concealed. In the meanwhile, I observed the coachman narrowly. Our glances met, and he regarded me with a fierce, penetrating expression. He wore a beard of enormous growth, and his moustaches were large in proportion. His fiery eyes, his flat nose, and his broad mouth, which was always showing his glistening teeth, gave one the vivid idea of a snarling, rascally poodle. “You can do me no harm,” I said to myself, as I entered the coach, “for I can remove myself from your rascally neighborhood at any moment that I think best.” The ponies flew through the streets. Ladies and gentlemen crowded to the balconies and windows to see us pass. The devil certainly drove magnificently, never deviating a hair’s breadth from the right line, and avoiding obstructions in the most skillful manner, though so narrowly, that it was enough to make my flesh creep with horror. The gates of the city now lay behind us. The duchess commanded him to drive more slowly, that we might enjoy the beauty of a charming South American landscape. And now, through my forgetfulness, and all absorbing love for the beautiful Angelica, an accident occurred, which well-nigh destroyed my credit with the duchess and her lovely daughter. We were speaking of all imaginable things—of the Carnival of Venice, of St. Peter’s, in Rome, and of Mahomet’s tomb, at Medina. I was describing the wonderful manner in which the Prophet’s coffin hung suspended between heaven and earth, and expressed my astonishment at the incredible circumstance. “Indeed, that must be very wonderful!” said Angelica, with child-like sympathy; “I should so like to be there.”