"Indeed," said Wegen, while his good-natured face assumed a peculiarly kindly expression. "Marriage would not be the most stupid of all the things that you have done hitherto. A married man--that sounds so respectable, inspires such confidence! I have always thought that it would be a most fortunate move on the board. The queen would then rule over all the squares! Everything in the past is forgiven and forgotten! If an amiable young woman is not alarmed at that past, then all will probably follow her example, and even the Baroness von Fuchs will beat the retreat. I do not care much for matrimony, I shall remain a bachelor. A _fiancée_ may be an angel, but one never knows how she may cook when she is one's wife. And a constantly bad _cuisine_--I should prefer the infernal regions!" "You encourage me, old friend; it pleases me! Then--leave for four days! Perhaps they will be the most important in my life--and after that, back to the Castle!" "I will ride over to my place to-day, and will see that things are right on yours." "Thank you! And afterwards I will invite a newly-made friend to stay with me--Doctor Kuhl--he is an original fellow; but I like people to have and express new ideas." "Then I am not sufficient for you, dear friend!" replied Wegen, stroking his blonde moustache in a melancholy manner. "Certainly, I possess few new ideas! Only at a good dinner they pour in upon me; then I understand what the poets call inspiration--I am often astonished at myself." "You are good-natured," said Blanden, pressing his friend's hand, "and that is worth more than all this world's wisdom. Then we will seek Kuhl--he was abducted by two fair women." "Stop, stop!" cried Wegen, with a pathetic gesture. "I am still breathless with my business-journies and reports, and you would have this state of exhaustion continue still longer? Storm and tempest--we have fasted long enough; now for a substantial breakfast! A few glasses of sherry, to defy wind and weather, and a beefsteak as underdone as possible--in that I am an Englishman!" He beckoned to a waiter, and tied a napkin, that was lying upon the table, round his neck, brandishing his knife and fork impatiently in the air. CHAPTER IV. BATHING-PLACE PICTURES. The Samland coast is frequented but little by strangers; the list of visitors seldom contains a Russ or Pole. However, a great number of people flows from East Prussia, from distant Masure, and its lonely lakes; from the primeval forests of Lithuania, to these homely seaside places; but more especially, the ancient town Ottokars sends its officials, its professors, its students, its young merchants, to the sea, and the sacred ocean-tide often overhears very learned discourses, which are held across the bathing-rope during the pauses which ensue between each rushing wave.