“Shall we not then play marriage?” sounded the nightingale tones at my side, and I felt her delicate hand rest upon my arm.

“To my latest hour,” I cried, enraptured; and every thing was forgotten but the exquisite creature before me. We went to the saloon, and took our places in a quiet niche. In the centre of the apartment they were playing faro. There stood the doctor losing huge sums, and looking as if he were cursing his unlucky stars.

Oh heavens! how beautiful she was with her graceful head bent over the table, her heavenly eyes resting upon the cards, and her features composed to an expression of thoughtfulness. How could I think of the miserable game while she was sitting opposite to me? I thought of only one marriage, and that was with the fair one herself.

She played eagerly, but in her eagerness displayed the most child-like, guileless soul. When she won—and I always let her win—when my one hundred-franc pieces slipped over the green cloth toward her, and she looked at the heap of gold beside her, she clapped her hands like a child beaming with innocence and simplicity. I was blest; I looked at her, and lost with the greatest delight—for was not my purse inexhaustible?

“That is enough for to-night,” said she at last, smiling graciously as she entrusted the heap of gold to an old servant. “One must not go too far, even in their favorite enjoyments. To-morrow I hope to give you your revenge, dear marquis.”

She tripped away to her mother at the faro-table. I was intoxicated with delight—I was beside myself. She had called me dear marquis, and in a tone of voice which rung through my soul. In this blissful state I looked toward the faro-table, but Joannes was no longer there. “He must have lost all,” I said to myself, “and will trouble me no more with his Viennese chariots and Andalusian ponies.” I longed for solitude, and retired to a little room, lighted only by the tapers of the great saloon. Throwing myself upon an ottoman, I thought upon my love and my happiness. I compared my present with my former prospects. Poor Gabriel Mostert! How often hast thou been compelled to wait before great men’s doors, waiting for the permission, which was necessary, before I could venture to intrude. And now, when the Marquis della Mostarda appears, all doors are thrown open, and cringing lackeys attend everywhere to wait on him—all the treasures of the earth are spread out before him for his choice. To be sure just now the finger upon which Kate had put the forget-me-not ring pinched me a little. But why need the marquis keep a promise which the tradesman had made? The thing was not to be thought of. Spite of this reasoning, my conscience would not let me think of the burgomaster’s daughter without a twinge. But I called Angelica’s image to my aid, and little Kate vanished. “She is an angel from heaven, this duke’s daughter,” cried I aloud. Just at this moment a loud, distinct voice in an adjoining dark room enchained my attention.

“Dog, hateful monster!” I heard Doctor Joannes say, “bring me more money, or the compact which binds me to thee is null and void. Of what use is it to me if I must stand now, like a naked beggar, by the side of this Italian, who appears to possess the gold mines of Golconda, and who loses thousands to the beautiful, avaricious Angelica—and smiles all the while, as if he were playing for beans. Money! money! or I will torment thee! I will turn Christian and take thee with me to church.” Then I heard a suppressed whining. It was evident that Doctor Joannes was conversing with the dog, of whom I had already heard something in the saloon. He appeared to understand the poodle tongue, for he answered, when the dog ceased whining, in increasing rage. “Do you say I should have bargained with Moloch, if I wished for gold and jewels? That I cannot compete with the Italian in expense, for he is under some mighty influence, which has at its command all the treasures of the world? That you fear he will marry Angelica, and so destroy all my plans? Dog! cursed monster! Angelica must be mine! Do you dare to fear where I hope? Wo be to you if my forbearance comes to an end.” Then the poodle growled more angrily, and whined no more. It seemed as if the growling in his throat deepened into thunder. But again he was silent, and the doctor replied scornfully, “Your threats I despise, for you are my slave. You must serve me until the old fellow in Wiemar has completed me; it will be a long time before that happens. I shall enjoy life for many years, and you must fill up my cup of pleasure. I say again, Angelica must be mine. And money, money I must have, and that to-night. My old friend may never complete me, or I may turn Christian; and in either case you are balked of my poor soul!”

The dog replied by a tolerably distinct growling.

“Steal, steal—always steal,” replied the doctor, peevishly. “There is something so vulgar in it. Why do you not steal for me, and have it ready for me when I want it. You think stealing is something so purely human that hell itself can have no part in it. But I care not, and will be off with you again for booty. But not from the merchant’s safe or the miser’s chest shall the money come to-night; take me to the treasury of the Emperor of China; there, perhaps, I may find something worth the stealing.”

An icy shudder ran through me. It was beyond a doubt I was in the vicinity of a horrible magician and his famulus. There was a strange rustling in the room; something flew out of the open door, the windows clattered, and a violent wind blew suddenly without. Something impelled me to go into the room. The air was hot and sulphurous, the high folding-doors were open, and on the distant horizon I saw a meteor which vanished in an instant. Half-senseless, I staggered out again. Strange thoughts rushed through my mind. I seemed to have known this doctor and his dog before, and to recollect walking and rioting with them in Frankfort on the Main. But such ridiculous fancies I banished quickly from my mind. “I shall have to deal with him,” said I to myself; “but he can do me no harm, for if the worst comes to the worst, my cap can easily rescue me.”

Satisfied with this reflection, I entered the eating saloon. The trumpets had already announced that supper waited, and the duchess led the fairest of the fair to me, that I might conduct her to the table. How can I describe those moments of bliss! What were the English oysters and Steinberg wine to me? I valued them not at all; I said nothing, but gazed upon her, while in silver tones she revealed to me her whole child-like soul. The dear child was, as is the case with all innocent children—all wishes. She wished for several dresses of the finest and broadest Brabant lace, for a set of Oriental pearls, and for diamonds of larger size and purer water than those she was then wearing. Then followed a multitude of fashionable trifles, and sweetmeats, which last appeared particularly attractive to the lovely girl. I noted down every thing in my memory, and resolved that all should be presented to her at dinner the next day.

Doctor Joannes did not appear at table. It seemed to disturb the duchess, who made many inquiries concerning him, but could learn nothing satisfactory.

I thought it best to guard with diligent secrecy the fact that he had gone to China upon a light-fingered errand. In his absence I was relieved and happy. I might have been the star of the evening, and should have made many excellent observations upon men and manners, had I not infinitely preferred to listen to my gracious princess, who appeared well pleased at not being interrupted in her prattle.

Thus the moments flew by, and the hour for departure arrived. I was in no little embarrassment; richly dressed servants began to announce to the various guests the arrival of their equipages. How could I sustain the dignity of the Marquis della Mostarda? What could I do but retire to some obscure corner, and wish myself in my gloomy lodgings on the Bosphorus. But it was not so to be. A stately Moor, more brilliantly appareled than the rest, approached me, and, as my servant, announced that my vehicle was waiting. I took leave with the utmost dignity of my princely entertainers, who declared that they should certainty expect me the next day at noon, to accompany them on a drive to San Solario—the duke’s chÂteau. These, their last words, were accompanied by a heavenly smile from the princess.

In a state of perfect bliss I descended the marble steps, and saw by the torchlight a magnificent chariot and two footmen in waiting. The Moor assisted me to enter, and the horses, which might well vie with the doctor’s Andalusian ponies, flew through the streets of Rio Janeiro. We stopped before a stately mansion, my hotel, as an inward voice assured me. Footmen stood ready to receive me, and chamberlains to attend me to my sleeping apartment. In short, I should have fallen from one state of bewilderment into another, had I not been perfectly conscious of my position as fortune’s favorite. I slept under a silken coverlet, upon eider down. But my dreams were excessively stupid, not of the charming Angelica, as I had hoped, but of Van Delpt and Fleury, with their nonsensical William Benkels and Henri Quatre, and of little Kate, with her vulgar burgomaster papa.

——