Ilse related nothing of her short career, but she had also had some experience. True, her husband was very good about working at night, was very discreet over his wine, though on great occasions he drank his glass bravely, as became a German Professor. But as to his eating, matters were very unsatisfactory. Certainly it does not do to care too much about food, especially for a Professor, but not to be able to distinguish a duck from a goose is rather discouraging for her who has striven to procure him a dainty. As for carving he was useless. The tough Stymphalian birds which Hercules destroyed, and the ungenial Ph[oe]nix, mentioned with such respect by his Tacitus, were much better known to him than the form of a turkey. Ilse was not one of those women who delight to spend the whole day in the kitchen, but she understood cooking, and prided herself on giving a dinner worthy of her husband. But all was in vain. He sometimes tried to praise the dishes, but Ilse clearly saw that he was not sincere. Once when she set a splendid pheasant before him, he saw by her expression that she expected some remark, so he praised the cook for having secured such a fine chicken. Ilse sighed and tried to make him understand the difference, but had to be content with Gabriel's sympathizing remark: "It's all useless. I know my master; he can't tell one thing from another!" Since then, Ilse had to rest content with the compliments that the gentlemen invited to tea paid her at the table. But this was no compensation. The Doctor also was not remarkable for his acquirements in this direction. It was lamentable and humiliating to see the two gentlemen over a brace of snipes which her father had sent them from the country.