Major Stultz had suddenly become jealous and out of temper; all the efforts of Madame Rosenberg to turn “the winter of his discontent” to “glorious summer” were vain; he followed her, half whistling, with his hands clasped behind him, intending to look extremely unconcerned; while his heightened colour, as they overtook Hamilton, betrayed to all the cause of his annoyance. Crescenz seemed perfectly indifferent, or rather, half disposed to brave his anger; for as they stood by Haydn’s monument, in the St. Peter’s church, she placed herself beside Hamilton, and spoke to him in French. It is true, the conversation was about the skull of Haydn, and the black marble urn which contained it; but Major Stultz could not be aware of this circumstance; and, with increased anger, he strode down the aisle, seeming disposed to quit them, had not Hamilton, weary of these misunderstandings, and provoked by Crescenz’s coquetry, said that he would meet them at the hotel in an hour; he was going to the cavalry stables to see the horses, which, of course, would not be interesting to them, and without waiting for an answer, he walked away. Hamilton’s absence did not seem to have much improved the state of affairs, for on his return to the inn, no one but Madame Rosenberg seemed disposed to be loquacious; and when they got into the _char-à-banc_, which was to take them to Berchtesgaden, Crescenz absolutely maneuvred to avoid Major Stultz; and on being ordered by her mother to sit beside him, pouted in the most significant manner. Madame Rosenberg chose this time to take charge of her two sons herself; she thought their vicinity might interrupt the reconciliation between Major Stultz and Crescenz, which she evidently wished to promote, but which seemed less likely than ever to take place, as Crescenz chose now to appear or to be excessively offended. This line of conduct had the effect of making poor Major Stultz imagine that he had been, perhaps, too hasty—unjust—uncivil—in short, he very soon accused himself of being a savage! and as these thoughts passed through his brain, his manners and words softened; he became humble, and even entreated forgiveness for the unknown offence; but all in vain—Crescenz scarcely answered him—in fact, she had not heard him, for her whole attention was absorbed in the conversation of her sister and Hamilton, who were immediately before her; she fancied that neither had disliked the arrangement which had placed them together. The latter, especially, seemed determined to amuse and be amused, and for more than an hour and a half the conversation never flagged. Madame Rosenberg occasionally joined in it, and Major Stultz also chimed in when he found all his efforts to obtain answers from Crescenz fruitless. They had nearly reached Berchtesgaden, and Hamilton had just begun to congratulate himself on having at length discovered the possibility of talking to Hildegarde without quarrelling,