--------------------- CHAPTER XII. DOMESTIC DETAILS. HAMILTON had gone out early to visit Zedwitz, and look at a horse recommended by Major Stultz. On his return, when walking towards his room, he heard some one singing so gayly in the kitchen that, as he passed the door, he could not resist the temptation to look in. Crescenz was standing opposite the hearth, a long-handled wooden spoon in her hand, her sleeves tucked up, and her round, white arms embellished with streaks of smut and flour; while a linen apron, of large dimensions, preserved the greater part of her dress from injury. Her face was flushed, partly from heat, but more from pleasure. As soon as she perceived Hamilton in the doorway, she at once ceased singing, laughed merrily, and invited him to enter. Now to this kitchen Hamilton had taken rather a fancy; he thought it by many degrees the best furnished room in the house; in fact, it was a pretty and cheerful apartment, and kept with a neatness common in Germany, where it is usual to see the female members of the burghers’ families employed in culinary offices. “I have got my first lesson in cookery to-day,” she exclaimed joyfully; “and I have assisted mamma to make a tart, and you see I am cooking these vegetables,” she added, plunging her wooden spoon into one of the pots. “Oh, yes, miss,” cried the cook, “that’s the soup, and the noodles will be all squashed if you work them up after that fashion.” “Well, this is the _sauer-kraut_,” she said, eagerly drawing one of the saucepans towards her; “this is the _sauer-kraut_.” “I could have told you that myself,” cried Hamilton, laughing; “the smell is too odious to admit of a doubt.” “But the taste is very good,” said Crescenz. “I cannot agree with you; taste and smell are horrible in the extreme.” “I never heard of anyone who did not like _sauer-kraut_,” said Crescenz, with some surprise; “do people never make it in England?” “I never saw it, excepting at the house of a friend who had been long ambassador at one of the German courts, and then it was handed about as a sort of curiosity.” “How odd! England seems to be altogether different from Germany?” she half asked, while shaking her head inquiringly. “The difference is in many things besides the eating or not eating of _sauer-kraut_,” answered Hamilton; “but as you are such a famous cook, I must beg you to give me something else to-day, for I cannot eat your _kraut_.” “Oh, yes!” cried Crescenz delightedly; “Wally, what shall we cook for Mr. Hamilton? I am sure I never thought I should have liked this cooking so much!” As she spoke, she with difficulty repressed an inclination to dance about the kitchen.