“Oh, Crescenz! choose some other time and some better occasion for timidity,” cried Hildegarde, impatiently. “If you cannot jump, make a long step,” said Madame Rosenberg, laughing, while she put her advice in practice by extending towards the ground nearly a yard of formless bone, and with Hamilton’s assistance, and a slight totter, reached the road. A tremendous clatter of swords in the garden seemed to alarm Crescenz; she threw herself completely upon Hamilton; and while he was endeavouring to place her steadily on her feet, the sound of wheels made him look around. A dark-green open carriage was at the moment turning round, and in the corner of it, vainly endeavouring to suppress a fit of laughter, sat A. Z. Hamilton coloured violently as he approached her, and expressed his astonishment at seeing her at Munich. “Herrmann called on you a couple of hours ago,” she replied, “but you were not at home; and as we only remain a few days here, and I may not see you again, I must not forget to renew my invitation to Hohenfels. You must not, however, expect to see an English country-house, a park, or anything of that kind—prepare yourself for one of the simplest of German establishments, if you do not wish to be horribly disappointed. I should like you to see Hohenfels before the snow comes on, or after it is gone. When will you come to us?” “In spring, if you please,” said Hamilton, “I have at present so many engagements——” “I need not ask you to drive back with me,” she said, looking after the Rosenbergs, “but I can take those children and leave them at home—it is a great distance for them to walk.” Hamilton was the bearer of a message to Madame Rosenberg, who no sooner heard of the proposal than she turned, back, approached the carriage, and commenced such a torrent of exaggerated thanks and apologies, accompanied by curtsies and bows, that Hamilton, who had lately begun to feel a sincere regard for her, was vexed, and looked at A. Z. as if to deprecate her mirth, while he silently lifted the two boys into the carriage. It was unnecessary. A. Z. seemed to find nothing unusual in Madame Rosenberg’s manner; and when the latter raised her finger threateningly, and told the children, “For their life to keep quiet, and not soil the baroness’s beautiful silk dress,” she replied, quietly, that “she was well accustomed to such youthful company to be in the least inconvenienced by a pair of dusty little shoes more or less.” “An exceedingly civil person,” observed Madame Rosenberg, as the carriage drew off, “an exceedingly civil person is your countrywoman. I am sorry we did not get better acquainted at Seon, for I liked her a great deal better than those Zedwitzes, who were uncommonly grand, and seemed to think their son demeaned himself when he spoke to our girls. I did not court his company, I am sure, and I let him see it.”