“Give me leave,” said Mr. Montenero, “to answer for the improvement of the Germans. Fifteen years ago, I remember, when I was travelling in Germany, I was stopped at a certain bridge over the Rhine, and, being a Jew, was compelled to pay rather an ignominious toll. The Jews were there classed among cloven-footed beasts, and as such paid toll. But, within these few years, sixteen German princes, enlightened and inspired by one great writer, and one good minister, have combined to abolish this disgraceful tax. You see, my dear Berenice, your hope is quickly fulfilling--prejudices are dying away fast. Hope humbly, but hope always.” The playful tone in which Mr. Montenero spoke, put me quite at my ease. The next day I was determined on an effort to make my mother acquainted with Miss Montenero. If I could but effect a meeting, a great point I thought would be gained. Mowbray undertook to manage it, and he, as usual, succeeded. He persuaded his mother to go to an auction of pictures, where he assured her she would be likely to meet with a Vandyke of one of her ancestors, of whose portrait she had long been in search. Lady de Brantefield engaged my mother to be of the party, without her having any suspicion that she would meet the Monteneros. We arrived in time to secure the best places, before the auction began. Neither Mr. nor Miss Montenero were there; but, to my utter discomfiture, a few minutes after we were seated, vulgar Mrs. Coates and all her tribe appeared. She elbowed her difficult way onward towards us, and nodding to me familiarly, seated herself and her Vandals on a line with us. Then, stretching herself across the august Lady de Brantefield, who drew back, far as space would permit, “Beg your pardon, ma’am, but I just want to say a word to this lady. A’n’t you the lady--yes--that sat beside me at the play the other night--the Merchant of Venice and the Maid of the Oaks, was not it, Izzy? I hope you caught no cold, ma’am--you look but poorly, I am sorry to notice--but what I wanted to say, ma’am, here’s an ivory fan Miss Montenero was in a pucker and quandary about.” _Pucker and quandary!_--Oh! how I groaned inwardly! “I was in such a fuss about her, you know, sir, that I never found out, till I got home, I had pocketed a strange fan--here it is, ma’am, if it is yours--it’s worth any body’s owning, I am sure.”