“Let me try it,” cried Madame Berger; “I am an excellent judge of soup, have learned cookery, and all that sort of thing. Let me see,” said she, playing with the spoon exactly as Hamilton had done; “let me see; the smell is excellent, but the taste?—hum! might require a little more salt, perhaps, but—but still it is eatable. After a few spoonfuls one scarcely remarks the defect—and,” she continued, raising the bowl to her mouth, “and when one swallows it quickly, it is really quite refreshing this cold afternoon.” Hamilton laughed; Hildegarde grew angry. “You may consider this a good joke, Lina,” she exclaimed, “but I find it very, very impertinent.” “Now don’t get into a passion, my dear, about a miserable bowl of soup,” said Madame Berger, laughing maliciously; “it is really not worth while. Just go to the kitchen and bring another, and I promise not even to look at it.” “But there is no more.” “Ah, bah! as if I did not know that there was soup put aside for supper.” “But not such soup as that,” cried Hildegarde, ingenuously; “mamma and Crescenz cooked it together, and I was not allowed to touch it for fear of its being spoiled.” “What an opinion they must have of her cookery,” remarked Madame Berger, looking towards Hamilton. “It is of no consequence,” he said, laughing; “I do not deserve any for having been so difficult to please.” “I can bring you a cup of beef-tea—it is better than nothing,” said Hildegarde, leaving the room. “Most careful nurse!” cried Madame Berger, smiling ironically. “Most indefatigable—most kind,” exclaimed Hamilton, warmly. “And most domineering,” added Madame Berger. “I have not found her so.” “Because you have never contradicted her, perhaps. For instance, what would you take now to refuse this cup of beef-tea when she brings it to you?” “That would be ungrateful—almost rude,” said Hamilton. “It will be bad enough to afford you an excuse, and I promise to assist you to brave her anger,” said Madame Berger, laughing. Hamilton shook his head and looked a little embarrassed. “Tell the truth, and say at once you _dare_ not do it. She rules you, I perceive, as she does her sister Crescenz, all in the way of kindness, but no thraldom can be more complete. How I shall enjoy seeing you swallow the scalding water dignified with the name of beef-tea. I dare say this time there will be salt enough in it.” “How mischievous you are,” cried Hamilton; “I do believe you want us to quarrel merely for your amusement, after having remained for three weeks the best of friends possible.” “You are more than friends if you cannot take the liberty to refuse a cup of bad soup.” Hamilton was about to reply, when the door was opened by Hans to admit Count Zedwitz. “You have played truant to-day, Zedwitz,” said Hamilton, holding out his hand; “I expected you an hour ago.” “I have been skating on the lake in the English Garden. There was a famous frost last night, and——”