At the grated gate of the park Doctor Joannes received us. He was dressed with much more care than on the preceding evening, for, although he still wore the same common black dress, and his hair hung in simple curls on either side of his pale face; in his lace jabot sparkled a diamond of the first water; his fingers were loaded with costly rings, and upon his light cane of bamboo shone in all its native splendor, a ruby as large as a billiard-ball. He did not appear to notice me, but bowed humbly to the ladies, and begged their forgiveness for intruding himself without an invitation; being driven to San Solario, as he said, by the desire to know whether they were satisfied with the Viennese chariot and Andalusian ponies. His whole manner expressed that tender sensibility which is in such favor with the ladies of the present day. They appeared delighted to see him. The lovely princess, sweet innocence, began, in her winning way, to admire the ornaments with which the doctor was adorned. She admired the diamonds and the rings; but when she saw the ruby, she broke out in most musical laughter, and declared that it must have belonged to Gulliver’s Ghlumdalclitch, for none but the queen of the giants could wear such a stone.

“O, gracious princess,” said I, casting a scornful glance upon Doctor Joannes, “these stones are never worn by ladies. They are marks of distinction among the Chinese mandarins; and I do not think such a one is to be found anywhere but in the imperial treasury at Peking.”

The doctor colored slightly, and his glance threatened me with revenge and ruin. But he soon turned quietly to the ladies, smiled himself at the great size of the stone, and confessed that it was this very peculiarity which had induced him to purchase it of a mandarin, who had left Rio Janeiro this very afternoon.

I was obliged to acknowledge that he had extricated himself from the difficulty well, and to leave him in peace for the present.

It was a magnificent afternoon, and the villa San Solario was a place of perfect enchantment. All the public gardens and squares in Gelnhaus and Heidelberg, were as common linen to cashmere, compared with San Solario. In Gelnhaus, if I chanced to hear a nightingale chirp, or a cricket sing, I fell immediately into a poetical ecstasy; and here there was a whole orchestra of woodland musicians performing overtures and symphonies on the boughs of the cedars and palms, while gorgeous birds were flitting about like animated flowers.

That rascal Joannes took his place by Angelica’s side, and, while the ladies were occupied with some sentimental love story, I gave myself up to my strange, wild, poetical dreaming. But I was wakened from my profound reverie by the sharp tones of the duchess. “Have you another attack, my lord, marquis?” said she; “you indulge in strange reveries. Why do you not listen to the exquisite story which the doctor is relating to us—it would melt a heart of stone. But you are so buried in thought, that you hear not a word of it; and if we did not pardon much to the weakness of your nerves, we should really be offended.” The doctor looked at me with the most impudent malice, and the princess Angelica smiled strangely, as if she suspected that I was not all right in my mind, or that I was an unrefined sort of person, who had yet to learn how to conduct himself toward people of rank; but I collected myself, and said, “These affecting stories have an injurious effect upon my nerves, it is true, and the physicians have forbidden me to listen to them. Even in early childhood my nurse’s tales always affected me strangely, and the story of a doctor who journeyed through the air upon a fiery dog, to visit the Emperor of China, or rather his treasury, made such an impression upon me, that it always seems to me as if it had really occurred only yesterday.”

Now, it was my time to stare maliciously at the doctor. Astonishment, rage, and curiosity were painted in his countenance. He had a hard struggle to prevent a self-betrayal; the veins in his forehead swelled fearfully, his cheeks glowed, and his eyes would have killed me if they could. But he recovered his composure again before the ladies noticed his confusion, and became just as interestingly pale as before—gentle and retiring as a young maiden, who is just entering the gay world; he coincided with them in their observations upon the beautiful country, and especially praised the situation of the villa, and the plan upon which the grounds were laid out.

This pleased the duchess—for the plans were her own.

We had now reached a spot where the whole beauty of the park and the surrounding country was spread out before us; but so oppressive were the rays of the evening sun, that it was almost impossible to remain for a moment in contemplation of the glorious landscape. The duchess declared that she would erect a public pavilion here, which should enable people to enjoy the charming scene without, undisturbed by the burning heat.

“In the meanwhile, I can assist you for the moment, with a little piece of chemical art,” said Joannes, very gently, as he detained the ladies. “It were a pity not to remain here until evening, and enjoy all the beauties of the sunset.” With these words he opened a box, which he took from his pocket. I regarded it curiously, but could discover nothing but common snuff. With a solemn air he scattered a few grains of the brown dust in a semi-circle on the ground; and, lo!—in a moment—roses and jessamines, vines and fig-trees, peach-trees and dwarf-palms sprouted up from the earth. They soon grew to a convenient height, and then arched themselves overhead in a roof, the green of which was charmingly relieved by many gay-colored flowers. But the doctor performed even more than he promised. With the arbor, there appeared also luxuriant ottomans, and an elegant table, upon which were crystal dishes, filled with the most delicious confitures, and glasses of lemonade and almond milk. The ladies appeared entirely satisfied with every thing; were not much surprised, and were very glad that the knowledge of natural magic had been carried so far, because it permitted one so easily to serve a friend in time of need.

I was vexed, and another cutting remark was upon my tongue, when an unexpected sight filled me with sweet memories of my home upon the Rhine, and excited my appetite. The arbor had borne fruits. Juicy figs and magnificent peaches were seen among the dark green leaves; but, better than all, there was the genuine fruit of Rhineland—the delicious grape. My heart leaped up within me, and I could scarcely refrain from singing—

“Does it please you, most honored friend?” asked the doctor, with extreme politeness, as he pointed to the rich, full bunches. “Pluck them yourself, while I wait upon the ladies. You will find them of the finest species, and just in the right state for eating.”

I could not withstand him. I plucked and ate—and the more I ate the greater became my hunger for them. Oh! how my spirits warmed, as I tasted the well-known Rutland grape, the Orleans, Riesling, Traminer, and the delicious, cooling Muscatel. The world around me vanished, and this fruit of the Rhine was—for the moment—life and love. A loud laugh from the ladies and the doctor awoke me from my dream of delight. Amazed, I looked up and around. Angelica pointed maliciously to the stripped vines, and I saw, to my horror, that I had eaten all the fruit, and that I was just stretching out my hand for the last grape upon the arbor. I was deeply mortified, but in the next moment my mortification was changed into dismay. What had I done? How could I have so forgotten myself as to enjoy the fruits of the witchcraft of my rival: I was—if not poisoned—at least bewitched. He gazed at me maliciously; and as he laughed contemptuously, the wicked fire that he had stolen from hell darted from his eyes.

“What is the matter, my lord?” began the duchess, who must have noticed the change in my manner and countenance. “Are you bewitched? Are you going to have another attack?”

“How bewitched? What attack?” cried I, almost beside myself. “We—all three—your gracious highness, the heavenly Angelica, and I—I, the Marquis Della Mostarda, are bewitched by the devil’s arts and a cursed dog. Doctor Joannes will lure on our poor souls into the power of his poodle, with NÜremburg gingerbread, delicious confectionary, and magic fruit. But his power reaches not to me—I am under mightier protection.”

I rushed away, and directed my steps toward the shadiest part of the garden. “What a pity that the poor man suffers from such attacks,” I heard the duchess say behind me. “What a pity,” echoed the princess, sweetly. But the doctor was well content that I had left the field clear for him.

——