"Upon my word and honor," said Oldenburg. "The thing is simply this:--I made in Cairo the acquaintance of an English family, whom I met frequently on the Nile; I was lucky enough to render them some service. The family consisted of father, mother, and daughter--but what a daughter! _mon cher_, I tell you----" "Ah, yes, I understand!" said Cloten, "thoroughbred! These English misses, divine--beautiful--saw one in Baden Baden--never forget her in all my life." "Just so was my Mary," said Oldenburg. "Not possible?" "You may rely upon it. All English misses look alike, as one lily looks like another. _Eh bien!_ The girl falls in love with the man who has saved her life. The father likes me; the mother consents. I am not a millionaire, like Mr. Brown; but then he was only a retired dealer in iron, and I an old German baron. Enough, we ratify the bargain. Then Mary says one evening--it seems as if it had been yesterday--we were sitting in the moonlight on the terrace of the temple at Philæ, and looked dreamily at the quiet river, and emptied drop by drop the full cup of love. Then she says, coming close up to me,--oh! I hear her voice still so distinctly,--Adalbert, says she--What, sweet one?--Adalbert, pray, dearest love, cut off your horrible beard--it's so vulgar." "Ah, yes! divine, divine--these English misses.--But what did she mean?" "She meant to say: My boy, beards are vulgar in England. Cut it off!" "Why, that was too bad!" "That is exactly what I told her. She begged, she besought me; at last she fell on her knees. I remained firm like the Colossus before us. Then she sprang up, and arming herself with all the pride of England, and raising her hand to the starry heavens, she exclaimed: 'Sir, either you cut off your beard or I must cut your acquaintance.'" "Then cut my acquaintance," said I. "Famous!" said Cloten. "What did she do?" "Oh, nothing! Apropos, who is that young man with whom you were talking just now? There he is, standing near the door, with old Grenwitz." "Well, guess?" "How can I guess? I suppose it is his nephew, Felix." "That is what I thought. And now just think, _cher baron_, the man is a fellow of low birth, not noble at all; his name is Stein, Doctor Stein, I believe, and he is--well, guess again!" "From the horror in your face I should conclude that he was the son of the executioner of Bergen." "Executioner! _Quelle idée!_ What strange notions you and Frau von Berkow always have! No--tutor at Grenwitz. Is not that wonderful?" "I do not see anything wonderful in that. There must be tutors in the world, as there must be laborers in the arsenic mines, although I should not like to be the one or the other." "But the fellow looks almost genteel?" "Almost genteel? My dear friend, he looks not only almost genteel, but extremely genteel, more so than any gentleman in the whole company, you and myself not excepted." "Ah, baron, you are again in your divine humor to-day."