speech was not very intelligible, Vaterchen's
"vulgate" ran underneath and explained the
text.

"I hope you will forgive me. I trust you
will be satisfied with my apologies, made thus
openly," said the prince, in the most courteous
of manners. "One who can behave with such
magnanimity can scarcely be wanting in another
species of generosity." And ere I could well reply,
I found myself shaking hands with every one, and
every one with me; nor was the least pleasurable
part of this recognition the satisfaction displayed
by the Rittmeister at the good issue of this event.
I had great difficulty in resisting their resolution
to carry me back with them to Bregenz.
Innumerable were the plans and projects
devised for my entertainment. Field sports, sham
fights, rifle-shooting, all were displayed
attractively before me; and it was clear, that if I
accepted their invitations, I should be treated
like the most favoured guest. But I was firm
in my refusal; and, pleading a pretended necessity
to be at a particular place by a particular
day, I started once more, taking the road with
the "vagabonds," who now seemed bound to
me by an indissoluble bond; at least so
Vaterchen assured me by the most emphatic of
declarations, and that, do with him what I
might, he was my slave till death.

"Who is ever completely happy?" says the
sage; and with too good reason is the doubt
expressed. Here, one might suppose, was a
situation abounding with the most pleasurable
incidents. To have escaped a duel, and come
out with honour and credit from the issue;
to have refound not only my missing money,
but to have my suspicions relieved as to those
whose honest name was dear to me, and whose
discredit would have darkened many a bright
hope of life,— these were no small successes; and
yet— I shame to own it— my delight in them
was dashed by an incident so small and insignificant,
that I have scarce courage to recal it.
Here it is, however. While I was taking a
kindly farewell of my military friends, handshaking
and protesting interminable friendships,
I saw, or thought I saw, the prince, with even
a more affectionate warmth, making his adieus
to Tintefleck! If he had not his arm actually
round her waist, there was certainly a white
leather cavalry glove curiously attached to her
side, and one of her cheeks was deeper coloured
than the other, and her bearing and manner
seemed confused, so that she answered, when
spoken to, at cross purposes.

"How did you come by this brooch,
Tinteileck? I never saw it before."

"Oh, is it not pretty? It is a violet; and
these leaves, though green, are all gold."

"Answer me, girl! who gave it thee?" said
I, in the voice of Othello.

"Must I tell?" murmured she, sorrowfully.

"On the spot— confess it!"

"It was one who bade me keep it till he
should bring me a prettier one."

"I do not care for what he said, or what you
promised. I want his name."

"And that I was never to forget him till
then— never."

"Do you say this to irritate and offend me,
or do you prevaricate out of shame?" said I,
angrily.

"Shame!" repeated she, haughtily.

"Ay, shame or fear."

"Or fear! Fear of what, or of whom?"

"You are very daring to ask me. And now,
for the last time, Tintefleck— for the last time,
I say, who gave you this?"

As I said these words we had just reached
the borders of a little rivulet, over which we
were to cross by stepping-stones. Vaterchen
was, as usual, some distance behind, and now
calling to us to wait for him. She turned at
his cry, and answered him, but made no reply
to me.

This continued defiance of me overcame my
temper altogether, sorely pushed as it was by a
stupid jealousy, and seizing her wrist with a
strong grasp, I said, in a slow, measured tone,
"I insist upon your answer to my question,
or——"

"Or what?"

"That we part here, and for ever."

"With all my heart. Only remember one
thing," said she, in a low, whispering voice:
"you left me once before— you quitted me, in
a moment of temper, just as you threaten it now.
Go, if you will, or if you must; but let this be
our last meeting and last parting."

"It is as such I mean it— good-by!" I
sprang on the stepping-stone as I spoke, and at
the same instant a glittering object splashed
into the stream close to me. I saw it, just as
one might see the lustre of a trout's back as it
rose to a fly. I don't know what demon sat
where my heart ought to have been, but I
pressed my hat over my eyes, and went on
without turning my head.

CHAPTER, XXXIX.

VERY conflicting and very mixed were my
feelings, as I set forth alone. I had come well,
very well, out of a trying emergency. I was
neither driven to pretend I was something other
than myself, with grand surroundings and
illustrious belongings, nor had I masqueraded
under a feigned name and a false history; but
as Potts, son of Potts the apothecary, I had
carried my head high and borne myself
creditably.

"Magna est veritas," indeed! I am not so
sure of the "praevalebit semper," but assuredly
where it does succeed, the success is wonderful.

Heaven knows into what tortuous entanglements
might my passion for the "imaginative"
— I liked this name for it— have led me, had I
given way to one of my usual temptations. In
more than one of my flights have I found myself
carried up into a region, and have had to sustain
an atmosphere very unsuited to my respiration,
and now, with the mere prudence of walking on
the terra firma, and treading the common highway
of life, I found I had reached my goal safely and
speedily. Flowers do not assume to be shrubs,