"Prefers ARTHUR ROBERTS to SALVINI!" exclaims the Countess, and throws up her hands and eyes to the ceiling as if imploring Heaven not to visit on her the awful heresy of her child. Here I interpose. SALVINI, I say, is a great _Artiste_, no doubt of it, a marvellous Tragedian; and ARTHUR ROBERTS is not, in the true dramatic sense of the word, a genuine Comedian; but he is, in another sense a true Comedian, though of the Music-Hall school. "What a school!" murmurs the Countess, and with a pained expression of countenance as though she were suffering agonies. The METTERBRUNS see the difference. Madame remembers a fat comic man in Berlin, at some garden, who used to wear a big hat and carry a large pipe, and make her laugh very much when she was a girl. Certainly, in his way, he was an artist. Is this ARTHUR ROBERTS anything like MAX SPLUeTTERWESSEL? At this point, as we have finished coffee, and the Countess finds the room hot, I propose adjourning the debate to the Restaurant in the garden, as we are too late for the band at the Casino Samie. The party is broken up in order to walk down to our rendezvous. PULLER, whose idea of making things pleasant, and, as he expresses it, "sweetening everyone all round," is to order "drinks" for everybody, insists upon the party taking "_consommations_"--he loves saying this word--at his expense. The Countess at first objects, as also does Madame METTERBRUN; but, on PULLER'S explaining that he belongs to "The Two-with-you Society," they accept this explanation as utterly unintelligible but perfectly satisfactory; and so, accepting PULLER'S _al fresco_ hospitality, we form a cheerful group round two tables put together for our accommodation. PULLER'S hospitality has taken the form of grenadines, chartreuses, and "sherry-gobblers,"--he loves this word too,--for us all round, and he has ordered for himself a strange mixture, which perfumes the night air as if some nauseous draught had been brought out of a chemist's shop, and which looks like green stagnant water in a big glass. It is called by PULLER, with great glee, an "Absinthe gummy." Anything nastier to look at or to smell I am not acquainted with in the way of drinks. However, he is our host, and I have a grenadine before me of his ordering, and between my lips an excellent cigar which is his gift. I can only say mildly, "It looks nasty;" and Cousin JANE expresses herself to the same effect, remarking also as she looks significantly towards me, that it is late, and that I am not keeping Royat hours. I promise to come away in ten minutes. PULLER is in the highest possible spirits: surrounded by this company, all drinking his drinks, he as it were takes the chair and presides. He knocks on the table, which brings the waiter, to whom he says, holding up a couple of fingers "Two with you,"--whereat the waiter only smiles upon the eccentric Englishman, shakes his head, and wisely retires.