“No such thing! My advice to them would have been enforced by a little delegated parental authority, not to mention the probability of their having, from hearsay, very exalted ideas of my wisdom.” “I doubt if their ideas on that subject could possibly be more exalted than mine.” “Very appropriately answered—you really are an extremely promising young man.” Hamilton bit his lip and blushed; there was something in her manner so mocking, so unequivocally ironical, that he felt mortified—his silent irritation betraying itself in spite of all his endeavours at concealment. “You are offended,” she observed, quietly, after a pause, “and offended without any cause. I have, all my life, had a particular antipathy to very young men—it is quite impossible to talk to them without making remarks which they consider derogatory to their dignity. I did not mean to annoy you, and recall my words; instead of a _promising_, I now think you an _irritable_ young man. Does that please you better?” “Infinitely better,” he answered, laughing; “if not the words, certainly the manner is preferable. I can bear anything but being turned into ridicule.” “What you now call ridicule will a few years hence take the name of badinage; but let us talk of something else, or still better—suppose we read. Here is the _Allgemeine Zeitung_, or _Blackwood’s Magazine_.” “Do you take _Blackwood’s_?” inquired Hamilton. “I get it and any books I wish for from the royal library. No one can be more magnificently liberal than the King of Bavaria, in this respect. When you go to Munich, your banker can sign papers making himself answerable for any books which may be lost or injured while in your possession; and this is the only formality necessary to insure you the unlimited use of a library containing upwards of eight hundred thousand volumes.” “But you do not mean to say that I, a foreigner, may take the books home with me?” “Your ideas are too English to comprehend such liberality, and so were mine when I first came to Munich; but the fact is, you may take the books to your own apartment and read them at your leisure. Of course you must be careful not to injure them in any way.” “But if many people enjoy this privilege, the books must be spoiled in time.” “You think, perhaps, it would be wiser if the eight hundred thousand volumes were put into glass book-cases, and merely exhibited to strangers, instead of being placed at their disposition? As far as I can judge, however, from personal observation, the books are not either spoiled or even soiled; at least, none I have ever required; and, you see,” she said, removing a paper cover from one of them, “they are very nicely bound.” “Do you read a great deal?” he asked.