“What is the matter?” asked the duke, as Goethe was engaged in a lively conversation with the duchess. “Is the dear countess dangerously ill?” “Oh, no,” answered Goechhausen, “not very ill, only in love with genius, a malady which has attacked us all more or less since that mad fellow Wolfgang Goethe has raged in Weimar, and made it a place of torment to honorable people. Oh, Goethe--oh, Wolf! with what lamb-like innocence we wandered in comfortable sheep’s clothing until you came and fleeced us, and infected us with your ‘Sturm und Dranger’ malady, and made us fall in love with your works!” “Goechhausen, hold your malicious tongue, and do not hide your own joy beneath jest and mockery,” cried the duchess. “Acknowledge that you are rejoiced to see your favorite, and that you will hasten to write to Madam Aja, ‘Our dear duke has returned, and my angel, my idol, Wolfgang, also.’ I assure you, Goethe, Thusnelda loves you, and was exceedingly melancholy during your absence. If asked the cause of her sadness, she wept like--” “Like a crocodile,” said the duke. “Oh, I know those tears of Fraulein Goechhausen; I could relate stories of her crocodile nature. Mother, how can you have such a monster in your society? Why not make the cornes, that the little devils may fly away?” “Very good,” cried the little, crooked lady. “I see your highness has not changed by this journey. Where have you been, dear duke? Oh, I remember; you flew over the Rhine, and have flown home again quite unchanged.” All laughed, the duke louder than any one. “Goechhausen, you are a glorious creature, and the Arminius is to be envied who appropriates this Thusnelda. Oh, I see the charming youth before me, who has the courage to make this German wife his own!” “I will scratch his eyes out?” cried Goechhausen, “and then the Countess Werther can play Antigone, and lead him around as Oedipus. Why shut your eyes, Einsiedel? I do not scratch quite yet.” “I was not thinking of that,” said the baron, astonished. “You never think that every one knows; but did you not do it so soon as you understood the Countess Werther should lead blind Oedipus as Antigone?” Before the count could answer, the court lady turned again to the duke. “What did your highness bring me? I hope you have not forgotten that you promised me a handsome present.” “No, I have not forgotten it; I have brought my Thusnelda a souvenir--such a gift!” “What is it, your highness?” “A surprise which, if Thusnelda is clever, she must think about all night.--But, Goethe, is it not time to leave the ladies?”