At this moment Berkley entered, with a Swiss cottage, which he had just bought as a present for somebody's child in England; and a cane with a chamois-horn on the end of it, which he had just bought for himself. This was the first time, that Flemming had been sorry to see the good-natured man. His presence interrupted the delightful conversation he was carrying on "under four eyes," with Mary Ashburton. He reallythought Berkley a bore, and wondered it had never occurred to him before. Mrs. Ashburton, too, must needs lay down her book; and the conversation became general. Strange to say, the Swiss dinner-hour of one o'clock, did not come a moment too soon for Flemming. It did not even occur to him that it was early; for he was seated beside Mary Ashburton, and at dinner one can say so much, without being overheard. CHAPTER VI. AFTER DINNER, AND AFTER THE MANNER OF THE BEST CRITICS. When the learned Thomas Diafoirus wooed the fair Angélique, he drew from his pocket a medical thesis, and presented it to her, as the first-fruits of his genius; and at the same time, invited her, with her father's permission, to attend the dissection of a woman, upon whom he was to lecture. Paul Flemming did nearly the same thing; and so often, that it had become a habit. He was continually drawing, from his pocket or his memory, some scrap of song or story; and inviting some fair Angélique, either with her father's permission or without, to attend the dissection of anauthor, upon whom he was to discourse. He soon gave proofs of this to Mary Ashburton. "What books have we here for afternoon reading?" said Flemming, taking a volume from the parlour table, when they had returned from the dining-room. "O, it is Uhland's Poems. Have you read any thing of his? He and Tieck are the best living poets of Germany. They dispute the palm of superiority. Let me give you a lesson in German, this afternoon, Miss Ashburton; so that no one may accuse you of 'omitting the sweet benefit of time, to clothe your age with angel-like perfection.' I have opened at random upon the ballad of the Black Knight. You repeat the German after me, and I will translate to you. Pfingsten war, das Fest der Freude!" "I should never persuade my unwilling lips to pronounce such sounds. So I beg you not to perplex me with your German, but read me the ballad in English." "Well, then, listen. I will improvise a translation for your own particular benefit. "'T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, When woods and fields put off all sadness. Thus began the King and spake; 'So from the halls Of ancient Hofburg's walls, A luxuriant Spring shall break.' "Drums and trumpets echo loudly, Wave the crimson banners proudly. From balcony the King looked on; In the play of spears, Fell all the cavaliers, Before the monarch's stalwart son. "To the barrier of the fight, Rode at last a sable Knight. 'Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!' 'Should I speak it here,