Doctor Claudius, A True Story, Page 2

  CHAPTER II.

  When Claudius awoke at daybreak he had a strong impression that he hadbeen dreaming. His first action was to open his iron box and read thewill over again. That being done, he reflected that his determination tokeep his fortune a secret was a wise one, and that for the present hewould abide by it. So he went out and got a notary to attest hissignature to the letter, and posted it to Messrs. Screw and Scratch, andreturned to his books. But the weather was intensely hot, and the sunbeat down fiercely on the roof over his head, so that after two or threehours he gave it up and sallied forth to seek coolness abroad. His stepsturned naturally upwards towards the overhanging castle where he wassure of a breeze and plenty of shade; and as he passed the famous old"Wirthshaus zum faulen Pelz" on the ascent, he turned in and took adrink of the cool clear ale and a pretzel, an operation termed inGermany the "Fruehschoppen," or "early glass," and as universal apractice as the early tea in the tropics before the sun is up, or the"vermouth" of the Italian before the evening meal. Having offered thiscustomary libation to the summer deities, the Doctor leisurely climbedthe hill and entered the precincts of the Schloss. Sure enough, therewas a breeze here among the ruins, and shade in abundance wherein tolie and read all through the summer day, with an occasional shift ofposition as the sun rose and sank in the blazing sky.

  Claudius stretched himself out near the great ruined tower under a bitof wall, and, pulling out a book, began to read. But the book did notinterest him, and before long he let it drop and fell to thinking. Thelight wind stirred the broad green foliage over him, and the sun struckfiercely down beyond the border of shade; but then, again, beyond therewere more trees and more shade. The nameless little crickets and fliesand all manner of humming things panted musically in the warm air; thesmall birds chirped lazily now and then in desultory conversation, toohot to hop or fly; and a small lizard lay along the wall dazed andstupid in the noontide heat. The _genius loci_ was doubtless coolinghimself in the retirement of some luxurious hole among the ruins, andthe dwarf Perkeo, famous in song and toast, had the best of it that daydown in the cellar by the great tun.

  But Claudius was of a tough nature, and minded neither heat nor cold;only when a large bluebottle fly buzzed round his nose he whisked hisbroad hat to drive the tormentor away, and said to himself that summerhad its drawbacks even in Germany, though there were certainly moreflies and mosquitoes and evil beasts on the wing in Sweden during thetwo months' heat there. On the whole, he was pretty comfortable amongthe ruins on this June day, though he ought to begin considering wherehis summer foot tour was to take him this year. It might be as well,certainly. Where could he go? There was the Black Forest, but he knewthat thoroughly; Bohemia--he had been there; Switzerland; theEngadine--yes, he would go back to Pontresina and see what it had growninto since he was there six years ago. It used to be a delightful placethen, as different from St. Moritz as anything could well be. Onlystudents and artists and an occasional sturdy English climber used to goto Pontresina, while all Europe congregated at St. Moritz half a dozenmiles away. He would go there as he went everywhere, with a knapsack anda thick stick and a few guldens in his pocket, and be happy, if so bethat he had any capacity for enjoyment left in him.

  "It is absurd," said Claudius to himself, argumentatively. "I am barelythirty years old, as strong as an ox, and I have just inherited moremoney than I know what to do with, and I feel like an old cripple ofninety, who has nothing left to live for. It must be morbid imaginationor liver complaint, or something."

  But it was neither liver nor imagination, for it was perfectly genuine.Tired of writing, tired of reading, of seeing, of hearing, and speaking;and yet blessed with a constitution that bid fair to carry him throughanother sixty years of life. He tried to argue about it. Was it possiblethat it came of living in a foreign country with whose people he had buta fancied sympathy? There are no folk like our own folk, after all; andthere is truly a great gulf between Scandinavians and every other kindof people. But it seemed to Claudius that he loved the Germans and theirways--and indeed he did; but does not everyday experience show that thepeople we admire, and even love, the most are not necessarily those withwhom we are most in sympathy or with whom it is best for us to live? Hewould have been better among his own Northern people; but that did notstrike him, and he determined he would go to the Engadine to-morrow ornext day.

  The Doctor, having made up his mind, shifted his position and sat up,pulling a pipe from his pocket, which he proceeded to fill and to light.The flame of the match was white and transparent in the mid-day glare,and the smoke hung lazily about as he puffed at the ungainly instrumentof enjoyment.

  Before he had half finished his pipe he heard footsteps on the path. Helooked up idly and saw a lady--_two_ ladies--coming leisurely towardshim. Beyond the fact that it was an unusual hour for strangers to visitthe Schloss--and they evidently were strangers--there was nothingunusual in the apparition; and Claudius merely rose to his feet andmoved slowly on, not from any desire to get out of the way, but merelybecause he was too well bred to remain seated by the path while a ladypassed, and having risen, he could not very well stand still. So hemoved on till he stood by the broken tower, and seeing that by climbingdown he could reach a more secure resting-place, with the advantage of aview, he let himself drop easily on to a projecting ledge of masonry andresumed his pipe with philosophic indifference. Before long he heardvoices above him, or more properly a voice, for one of the partiesconfined her conversation strictly to yea and nay, while the other spokeenthusiastically, and almost as if soliloquising, about the scene.

  It was a deep-strung voice, that would have been masculine if it hadbeen the least harsh; but it was not--it was only strong and large andsmooth, a woman's voice with the gift of resonance that lends interestwhere there might otherwise seem to be none. There is a certain kind ofvoice in woman that seems to vibrate in a way especially its own.Whether it be that under certain conditions of the vocal organsharmonic sounds are produced as they may be upon a stringed instrumentor upon an organ pipe; or whether, again, the secret lies deeper,depending on the subtile folding and unfolding of new-shaped waves ofsound to which our ordinary ears are not used--who can tell? And yetthere are voices that from the first produce upon us a strangeimpression unlike anything else in the world. Not that we necessarilybecome interested in the possessor of the voice, who may remain for everutterly indifferent to us, for the magic lies in the tone merely, whichseems to have a power of perpetuating itself and rebounding among theechoes of our recollections. Barely, very rarely, singers possess it,and even though their powers be limited there comes a strange thrillinto their singing which fixes it indelibly on the memory.

  Such a voice it was that Claudius heard as he lay on his ledge ofmasonry some ten feet below, and listened to the poetic flow of thestrange lady's thoughts on Heidelberg and the scene at her feet. He didnot move, for he was sure she had not seen him; and he supposed shewould go away in a few minutes. He was destined to be seen, however. Shestopped talking, and was apparently lost in thought; but in a momentthere was a small cry.

  "O mon Dieu!" and a dainty lace-covered parasol fell over the edge, and,striking the platform where Claudius was lying, went straight to thebottom of the ruin, some twenty feet farther.

  "What a nuisance," said the thrilling voice from above, "I can never getit back now; and there are no gardeners or people about."

  "Permit me, Madam," said Claudius, stepping as far out as he dared, andlooking up to catch a glimpse of a beautiful woman in black and whitestaring down at the unlucky parasol in a rather helpless fashion. "Donot be disturbed, Madam; I will get it for you in a moment." And hebegan to descend.

  The fair unknown protested--Monsieur must not trouble himself; Monsieurwould certainly break his neck--_enfin_, it was very obliging on thepart of Monsieur to risk himself in such a terrible gulf, etc. etc. But"Monsieur," when once he had caught sight of those dark eyes, climbedsteadily down to the bottom, and had reached the lost parasol before thes
tring of polite protestations had ceased. The ascent was quicklyaccomplished, and he stood at the summit, hat in hand, to return theobject of his search to its rightful owner. There was not a trace ofembarrassment on his face; and he looked the foreign lady boldly in theeyes as he bowed. She could not express her thanks sufficiently, andwould probably have wished to continue expressing them for some timelonger to the handsome and herculean young man, who had apparentlystarted out of space to her assistance; but when Claudius had taken agood look he simply answered--

  "Il n'y a pas de quoi, Madame," and bowing low walked off. Perhaps theleast contraction of curiosity was in his eyes; and he would have likedto know who the lady was who had the crown and the large M carved in theivory of her parasol stick. But, after all, he came to the conclusionthat he did not care, and so went strolling down the path, wonderingwhere he could hide himself if visitors were to infest the Schloss atthis time of year, and in the hottest hours of the day.

  "I will leave here to-morrow," he said, "and see if I cannot be morecomfortable in Pontresina." He reached another part of the Schloss, andsitting down resumed his pipe, which seemed destined to interruptions.

  The lady of the parasol had made an impression on Dr. Claudius, for allhis apparent indifference. It was rarely, indeed, nowadays that helooked at a woman at all; and to-day he had not only looked, but heowned to himself, now it was past, that he would like to look again. Ifhe had had any principle in avoiding women during the last few years, hewould not have admitted now that he would like to see her again--justfor one moment. But he had no principle in the matter. It was choice,and there it ended; and whenever he should take it into his head toassociate with the fair sex again, he would consider it a sign that hisyouth had returned, and he would yield without the smallest struggle.But in this ease--"Pshaw!" thought the humble _privat-docent_, "she issome great lady, I suppose. How should I make her acquaintance? Oh! Iforgot--I am a millionaire to-day; I have only to ask and it shall beopened." He smiled to himself, and, with the returning sense of thepower to do what he pleased, the little undefined longing for anotherglimpse of the fair stranger subsided for a time.

  Then he regretted it. He was sorry it was gone; for while it had beenthere he had felt a something telling him he was not old after all, butonly very young--so young that he had never been in love. As aconsequence of his wishing his little rag of sentiment back again, itcame; but artificially this time, and as if expecting to be criticised.He would contemplate for a space the fair picture that had the power torouse his weary soul, even for an instant, from the sea of indifferencein which it was plunged.

  Claudius lay back in the grass and crossed one leg over the other. Thenhe tried to recall the features of the woman who had begun to occupy histhoughts. She was certainly very beautiful. He could remember one or twopoints. Her skin was olive-tinted and dark about the eyes, and the eyesthemselves were like soft burning amber, and her hair was very black.That was all he could recollect of her--saving her voice. Ah yes! he hadseen beautiful women enough, even in his quiet life, but he had neverheard anything exactly like this woman's tones. There are some soundsone never forgets. For instance, the glorious cry of the trumpeter swansin Iceland when they pass in full flight overhead in the early morning;or the sweet musical ring of the fresh black ice on the river as itclangs again to sweep of the steel skate. Claudius tried to compare thesound of that voice to something he had heard, but with little success.

  Southern and Eastern born races fall in love at first sight in a waythat the soberer Northener cannot understand. A face in a crowd, aglance, a droop of the lashes, and all is said. The seed of passion issown and will grow in a day to all destroying proportions. But theNorthern heart is a very different affair. It will play with itsaffections as a cat plays with a mouse; only the difference is, that themouse grows larger and more formidable, like the one in the story of theEastern sage, which successively changed its shape until it became atiger, and the wise man was driven to take precautions for his ownsafety. There is never the least doubt in the mind of an Italian or anOriental when he is in love; but an Englishman will associate with awoman for ten years, and one day will wake up to the fact that he lovesher, and has loved her probably for some time past. And then his wholemanner changes immediately, and he is apt to make himself verydisagreeable unless indeed the lady loves him--and women are rarely indoubt in their inmost hearts as to whether they love or not.

  The heart of the cold northern-born man is a strange puzzle. It can onlybe compared in its first awakening to a very backward spring. In thefirst place, the previous absence of anything like love has bred a roughand somewhat coarse scepticism about the existence of passion at all.Young Boreas scoffs at the mere mention of a serious affection, andturns up his nose at a love-match. He thinks young women no end of fun;his vanity makes him fancy himself the heartless hero of many anadventure, and if, as frequently happens, he is but an imperfectgentleman, he will not scruple to devise, imagine, and recount (to hisbosom friend, of course, in strictest secrecy) some hairbreadth escapefrom an irate husband or an avenging father, where he has nearly losthis life, he says, in the pursuit of some woman, generally a lady ofspotless reputation whom he barely knows. But put him in her society foran hour, with every opportunity of pressing his suit, and the veriestlambkin could not be more harmless. He has not yet tasted blood, thoughhe will often smack his lips and talk as if he had.

  It is generally chance that makes him fall in love the first time. He isthrown together with his fate--tall or short, dark or fair, it makes nodifference--in some country house or on some journey. For a long timeher society only amuses him and helps to pass the hours, for Boreas iseasily bored and finds time a terrible adversary. Gradually heunderstands that she is a necessity to his comfort, and there is nothinghe will not do to secure her on every possible opportunity for himself.Then perhaps he allows to himself that he really does care a little, andhe loses some of his incrustation of vanity. He feels less sure ofhimself, and his companions observe that he ceases to talk of hisalleged good fortunes. Very, very slowly his real heart wakes up, andwhatever is manly and serious and gentle in his nature comesunconsciously to the surface. Henceforth he knows he loves, and becausehis love has been slow to develop itself it is not necessarily sluggishor deficient when once it is come. But Englishmen are rarely heroiclovers except in their novels. There is generally a little bypath ofcaution, a postern gate of mercantile foresight, by which they can slipquietly out at the right moment and forget all about the whole thing.

  Claudius was not an Englishman, but a Scandinavian, and he differed fromthe imaginary young man described above in that he had a great broadreverence of woman and for woman's love. But it was all a theory, ofwhich the practice to him was as yet unknown. He had soon wearied of theclass of women he had met in his student-life--chiefly the daughters ofrespectable Heidelberg Philistines, of various degrees of south Teutonicprettiness; and the beautiful women of the world, of whom he had caughta glimpse in his travels had never seemed real enough to him to be inany way approached. He never had realised that his own personality,combined with his faultless manners, would have soon made him afavourite in what is called society, had he chosen to court it.

  After all, it was very vague this passing fancy for the dark-eyed womanof the Schloss. Perhaps Dr. Claudius watched his symptoms too narrowly,and was overmuch pleased at finding that something could still rouse ayouthful thrill in him, after the sensation of old age that had of lateoppressed him. A man, he said to himself, is not old so long as he canlove--and be loved--well, so long as he can love, say, and let the resttake care of itself. And by and by the sun went westering down the hill,and he shook himself out of his dreams, and pocketed his book and turnedhomeward. His day, he thought, had not amounted to much after all, andhe would spend the evening in sober study, and not dream any more untilbedtime. But he would be sociable this evening and eat his supper--nowhe thought about it, it would be dinner and supper combined--in thecompany of his colleagues a
t their favourite haunt. And he would goto-morrow, he would certainly go to the Engadine.

  But to-morrow came, and the Herr Doctor looked out of his window asusual, and he did not go to Pontresina or anywhere else, nor the nextday, nor the day after. Only up to the Schloss every day through the hotweek, with his book and his pipe, and there he would lie and read andsmoke, and say to himself, "To-morrow I will certainly go." There wassomething almost pathetic in Claudius, thus day after day revisiting thescene where he had experienced a momentary sensation of youth andvitality, where he had discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that he wasstill alive and full of strength and sanguine hope, when he thoughthimself so old. And lying among the ruins he called up the scene againand again, and the strange woman gradually got possession of his mind,as a cunning enchantress might, and she moulded his thoughts about hertill they clung to her and burned. He did not seriously think to meether again in the Schloss, if he thought of it at all, for he knew ofcourse that she must have been a bird of passage, only pausing aninstant on that hot day to visit some scene long familiar to her memory.And of course, like a true philosophical student, he did not attempt toexplain to himself his own conduct, nor to catalogue the reasons for andagainst a daily visit to the old castle.

  So the week passed, and another after it, and one day, late in theafternoon, Claudius descended the hill and went up as usual to hischamber above the river, to spend an hour indoors before going tosupper. It was a beautiful evening, and he left his door partly open onto the landing that the breeze might blow through the room as he sat bythe window. A book was in his hand before he had sat many moments, fromsheer force of habit; but he did not read. The sounds of the street rosepleasantly to his ear as the little boys and girls played togetheracross each other's doorsteps. To tell the truth, it all seemed very faroff, much farther than three flights of steps from the little crowdbelow to the solitary nest of learning aloft where he sat; and Dr.Claudius was, in his thoughts, incalculably far away from theshoemaker's Hans and the tinman's Gretel and their eight-year-oldflirtation. Claudius was flirting with his fancies, and drawing prettypictures in the smoke, with dark eyes and masses of black hair; and thenhe moved uneasily, and came back to his threadbare proposition that hewas old, and that it was absurd that he should be.

  "Ah! what would I not give to enjoy it all--to feel I could wish onemoment to remain!" He sighed and leaned back in the straight-backedchair. The door creaked slightly, he thought it was the evening wind. Itcreaked again; he turned his head, and his gaze remained riveted on theopening. A beautiful pair of dark eyes were fixed on him, deep andsearching, and on meeting his, a great silky black head was pushedforward into the room, and a magnificent black hound stalked slowlyacross the floor and laid his head on the Doctor's knee with a look ofevident inquiry.

  Claudius was fond of animals, and caressed the friendly beast, wonderingto whom he might belong, and speculating whether the appearance of thedog heralded the approach of a visitor. But the dog was not one of thosethat he knew by sight in the streets of Heidelberg--one of those superbfavourites of the students who are as well known as the professorsthemselves to every inhabitant of a university town in Germany. And theDoctor stroked the beautiful head and listened for steps upon thestairs. Before long he heard an ominous stumbling, as of some oneunfamiliar with the dark and narrow way, and in a moment more a youngman stood in the doorway, dazzled by the flood of the evening sunshinethat faced him.

  "Mr. Claudius live here?" interrogated the stranger in a high andmetallic, but gentlemanly voice.

  "I am Dr. Claudius," said the tenant of the old chair, rising politely."Pray be seated, sir," and he offered his one seat to his visitor, whoadvanced into the middle of the room.

  He was a young man, dressed in the extreme of the English fashion. Hewas probably excessively thin, to judge by his face and neck and hands,but he was made up admirably. He removed his hat and showed a foreheadof mediocre proportions, over which his dark hair was conscientiouslyparted in the middle. Though not in appearance robust, he wore amoustache that would not have disgraced a Cossack, his eyes were small,gray, and near together, and his complexion was bad. His feet wereminute, and his hands bony.

  He took the offered chair, and Claudius sat down upon the bed, which wasby no means so far removed in the little room as to make conversation atthat distance difficult.

  "Dr. Claudius?" the stranger repeated, and the Doctor nodded gravely."Dr. Claudius, the nephew of the late Mr. Gustavus Lindstrand of NewYork?"

  "The same, sir. May I inquire to what good fortune I am indebted--"

  "Oh! of course," interrupted the other, "I am Mr. Barker--Silas B.Barker junior of New York, and my father was your uncle's partner."

  "Indeed," said Claudius, rising and coming forward, "then we must shakehands again," and his face wore a pleasant expression. He thoughtnothing of first impressions, and was prepared to offer a hearty welcometo any friend of his uncle, even of the most unprepossessing type. Mr.Barker was not exactly unprepossessing; he was certainly not handsome,but there was a look of action about him that was not unpleasing.Claudius felt at once, however, that the American belonged to a type ofhumanity of which he knew nothing as yet. But they shook handscordially, and the Doctor resumed his seat.

  "And is it long since you received the news, Professor?" inquired Mr.Barker, with the ready Transatlantic use of titles.

  "I heard of my uncle's death about three weeks ago--rather less."

  "Ah yes! And the news about the will--did you hear that?"

  "Certainly," said the Doctor; "I received the intelligencesimultaneously."

  "Well," said the American, "do you propose to continue living here?"

  Claudius looked at his visitor. He was as yet unfamiliar with New Worldcuriosity, and thought the question a rather strange one. However, hereflected that Mr. Barker's father might have some moral claim to knowwhat his old partner's heir meant to do with his money; so he answeredthe question categorically.

  "I was, as perhaps you may imagine, greatly surprised at theintelligence that I had inherited a great fortune. But you will hardlyunderstand, with your tastes,"--the Doctor glanced at Mr. Barker'sfaultless costume,--"that such abundant and unexpected wealth may not beto me a wholly unalloyed blessing." Claudius proceeded to explain howlittle he cared for the things that his money might bring him, andannounced his intention of continuing his present mode of life some timelonger. Mr. Silas B. Barker junior of New York opened his small eyeswider and wider, as his host set forth his views.

  "I should think you would be bored to death!" he said simply.

  "_Ennui_, in the ordinary sense, does not exist for a man whose life isdevoted to study. What corresponds to it is a very different thing. Isometimes feel oppressed with a sense of profound dissatisfaction withwhat I am doing--"

  "I should think so," remarked Mr. Barker. Then, checking himself, headded, "I beg your pardon, don't misunderstand me. I can hardly conceiveof leading such a life as yours. I could never be a professor."

  Claudius judged the statement to be strictly true. Mr. Barker did notlook like a professor in the least. However, the Doctor wanted to becivil.

  "Have you just arrived? Have you seen our sights?"

  "Came last night from Baden-Baden. I have been here before. You hadbetter come around to my hotel, and take dinner with me. But first wewill drive somewhere and get cool."

  Claudius put on his best coat and combed his hair, apologising to Mr.Barker for the informality. Mr. Barker watched him, and thought he wouldmake a sensation in New York.

  "We might go up to the castle," said the American, when they were seatedin the carriage. So to the castle they went, and, leaving their carriageat the entrance, strolled slowly through the grounds till they reachedthe broken tower.

  "If they had used dynamite," said Mr. Barker, "they would have sent thewhole thing flying across the river."

  "It would have been less picturesque afterwards," said Claudius.

  "It would have bee
n more effective at the time."

  Claudius was thinking of the dark woman and her parasol, and how he hadclimbed down there a few weeks before. To show to himself that he didnot care, he told his companion the incident as graphically as he could.His description of the lady was so graphic that Mr. Barker screwed uphis eyes and put out his jaw, so that two great lines circled on hissallow face from just above the nostril, under his heavy moustache tohis chin.

  "I could almost fancy I had seen her somewhere," said he.

  "Where?" asked Claudius eagerly.

  "I thought he would give himself away," was the American's terse inwardreflection; but he answered coolly--

  "I don't know, I am sure. Very likely I am mistaken. It was prettyromantic though. Ask me to the wedding, Professor."

  "What wedding?"

  "Why, when you marry the fascinating creature with the parasol."

  Claudius looked at Mr. Barker with some astonishment.

  "Do you generally manage things so quickly in your country?"

  "Oh, I was only joking," returned the American. "But, of course, you canmarry anybody you like, and why not the dark lady? On the whole, though,if I were you, I would like to astonish the natives before I left. Now,you might buy the castle here and turn it into a hotel."

  "Horrible!" ejaculated Claudius.

  "No worse than making a hotel of Switzerland, which is an older and moreinteresting monument than the castle of Heidelberg."

  "Epigrammatic, but fallacious, Mr. Barker."

  "Epigrams and proverbs are generally that."

  "I think," said Claudius, "that proverbs are only fallacious when theyare carelessly applied."

  "Very likely. Life is too short to waste time over weapons that willonly go off in some singular and old-fashioned way. When I start out todo any shooting, I want to hit."

  So they went to dinner. Claudius found himself becoming gayer in thesociety of his new acquaintance than he had been for some time past. Hecould not have said whether he liked him or thought him interesting, buthe had a strong impression that there was something somewhere, he couldnot tell what, which Mr. Barker understood thoroughly, and in which hemight show to great advantage. He felt that however superficial andunartistic the American might be, he was nevertheless no fool. There wassomething keen and sharp-edged about him that proclaimed a charactercapable of influencing men, and accustomed to deal boldly and daringlywith life.

  They dined as well as could be expected in a country which is notgastronomic, and Mr. Barker produced a rare brand of cigars, withoutwhich, he informed his guest, he never travelled. They were fat brownHavanas, and Claudius enjoyed them.

  "Let us go to Baden-Baden," said Barker, sucking at his weed, whichprotruded from his immense moustache like a gun under the raisedport-hole of an old-fashioned man-of-war.

  "If I were seeking innocent recreation from my labours, that is notexactly the spot I would choose to disport myself in," replied Claudius."The scenery is good, but the people are detestable."

  "I agree with you; but it is a nice place for all that. You can alwaysgamble to pass the time."

  "I never play games of chance, and there is no play in Baden now."

  "Principle or taste, Professor?"

  "I suppose I must allow that it is principle. I used to play a littlewhen I was a student; but I do not believe in leaving anything tofortune. I would not do it in anything else."

  "Well, I suppose you are right; but you miss a great deal of healthyexcitement. You have never known the joys of being short of a thousandN.P. or Wabash on a rising market."

  "I fear I do not understand the illustration, Mr. Barker."

  "No? Well, it is not to be wondered at. Perhaps if you ever come to NewYork you will take an interest in the stock market."

  "Ah--you were referring to stocks? Yes, I have read a little about yourmethods of business, but that kind of study is not much in my line. Whydo you say Baden, though, instead of some quiet place?"

  "I suppose I like a crowd. Besides, there are some people I know there.But I want you to go with me, and if you would rather not go toBaden-Baden, we can go somewhere else. I really think we ought to becomebetter acquainted, and I may prevail on you to go with me to New York."

  Claudius was silent, and he blew a great cloud of smoke. What sort of atravelling companion would Mr. Barker be for him? Could there be agreater contrast to his own nature? And yet he felt that he would liketo observe Mr. Barker. He felt drawn to him without knowing why, and hehad a presentiment that the American would drag him out of his quietlife into a very different existence. Mr. Barker, on the other hand,possessed the showman's instinct. He had found a creature who, he wassure, had the elements of a tremendous lion about town; and having foundhim, he meant to capture him and exhibit him in society, and take tohimself ever after the credit of having unearthed the handsome, rich,and talented Dr. Claudius from a garret in Heidelberg. What a story thatwould be to tell next year, when Claudius, clothed and clipped, shouldbe marrying the girl of the season, or tooling his coach down theNewport avenue, or doing any of the other fashionable and merry thingsthat Americans love to do in spring and summer!

  So Mr. Barker insisted on driving Claudius back to his lodging, thoughit was only five minutes' walk, and exacted a promise that the Doctorshould take him on the morrow to a real German breakfast at the FaulerPelz, and that they would "start off somewhere" in the afternoon.

  Claudius said he had enjoyed a very pleasant evening, and went up to hisroom, where he read an elaborate article on the vortex theory byProfessor Helmholtz, with which, having dipped into transcendentalgeometry, he was inclined to find fault; and then he went calmly to bed.