“His being an Englishman does not, in my opinion, alter the case, or make him a less dangerous companion for your daughters. I do not presume to dictate. I merely offer advice, which you do not seem disposed to take; and nothing now remains for me but to beg of you to hurry as much as possible the preparations for Crescenz’s marriage. A few scenes such as we have had to-day would soon cure me of all fancy for her. You told me she was good-tempered, and I have found her so sullen since we left Salzburg, that it is impossible to obtain a word from her.” “My dear Major, you may depend upon my reprimanding her severely for such conduct——” “By no means, madame; I don’t wish her to be reprimanded. I shall speak to her myself, and tell her that I have a comfortable home to offer her; that I am supposed to be an indulgent husband, but that I am too old to play lover, and altogether decline entering into competition with such a rival as that tall Englishman, who, however, I can also tell her, has no more idea of marriage than the man in the moon!” “But, my dear Major, I really must beg of you not to mention the Englishman to her. It will only put an idea into her head which I am convinced has never entered it. You forget what a mere child she is—not yet sixteen!” Major Stultz turned round suddenly to look at his betrothed; the moment was unpropitious for removing jealous doubts. She was walking alone with Hamilton, and speaking with an earnestness totally foreign to her character, while the expression of her upturned eyes denoted anything but childishness. “This will never do!” exclaimed Major Stultz, angrily. “You wrong her most assuredly,” cried Madame Rosenberg, with a sort of blind reliance on Crescenz’s childishness, which this time, however, did not deceive her: “You wrong her, and I will prove it by asking her what she is talking about. Crescenz, my love, we wish to know the subject of your discourse—it seems to be interesting.” Crescenz answered without hesitation, “I am defending Hildegarde; Mr. Hamilton and she have quarrelled about the _Ballad of the Glove_. He says she was rude; and I think he was rude; for he said if he had been a knight he would not have chosen her for his lady-love. I do not think of being angry, and he did not choose me either,” she added, glancing half reproachfully. On another occasion Madame Rosenberg would have inquired further, and given, perhaps, an edifying lecture on politeness and propriety of language; she was now too well satisfied with Crescenz’s answer to think of anything of the kind, and turning triumphantly to Major Stultz, she whispered, “You see I was right. I cannot answer for Hildegarde. Rosenberg says I do not understand her; but Crescenz _is_ a good girl—almost too good and docile. You can make whatever you please of her.” They all walked together to the inn, and _The Glove_ seemed to be quite forgotten. ---------------------