Part 1 (2/2)
”Ah, yes,” he replied simply; ”but a greater loss to me.”
To this I could answer nothing; and for some minutes we smoked in silence.
”I was not clever like Fritz,” he went on presently. ”When I left Heidelberg, I went into business, I am a brewer, and I live at Stuttgart. My name is Gustav Bergheim--what is yours?”
”Hamilton,” I replied; ”Chandos Hamilton.”
He repeated the name after me.
”You are an Englishman?” he said.
I nodded.
”Good. I like the English. There was an Englishman at Heidelberg--such a good fellow! his name was Smith. Do you know him?”
I explained that, in these fortunate islands, there were probably some thirty thousand persons named Smith, of whom, however, I did not know one.
”And are you a milord, and a Member of Parliament?”
I laughed, and shook my head.
”No, indeed,” I replied; ”neither. I read for the bar; but I do not practise. I am an idle man--of very little use to myself, and of none to my country.”
”You are travelling for your amus.e.m.e.nt?”
”I am. I have just been through the Tyrol and as far as the Italian lakes--on foot, as you see me. But tell me about yourself. That is far more interesting.”
”About myself?” he said smiling. ”Ah, mein Herr, there is not much to tell. I have told you that I live at Stuttgart. Well, at this time of the year, I allow myself a few weeks' holiday, and I am now on my way to Frankfort, to see my Madchen, who lives there with her parents.”
”Then I may congratulate you on the certainty of a pleasant time.”
”Indeed, yes. We love each other well, my Madchen and I. Her name is Frederika, and her father is a rich banker and wine merchant. They live in the Neue Mainzer Stra.s.se near the Taunus Gate; but the Herr Hamilton does not, perhaps, know Frankfort?”
I replied that I knew Frankfort very well, and that the Neue Mainzer Stra.s.se was, to my thinking, the pleasantest situation in the city. And then I ventured to ask if the Fraulein Frederika was pretty.
”_I_ think her so,” he said with his boyish smile; ”but then, you see, my eyes are in love. You shall judge, however, for yourself.”
And with this, he disengaged a locket from his watch-chain, opened it, and showed me the portrait of a golden-haired girl, who, without being actually handsome, had a face as pleasant to look upon as his own.
”Well?” he said anxiously. ”What do you say?”
”I say that she has a charming expression,” I replied.
”But you do not think her pretty?”
”Nay, she is better than pretty. She has the beauty of real goodness.”
<script>