I
had no expectation or even desire of making new acquaintances among
the gay company who took their afternoon coffee under the noble
linden trees on the terrace; but, within the first hour of my
after-dinner leisure, I was greeted by an old friend, an author,
from Coburg, and carried away, in my own despite, to a group of his
associates. My friend and his friends had already been at the
place a fortnight, and knew the very tint and texture of its
gossip. While I sipped my coffee, I listened to them with one ear,
and to Wagner's overture to "Lohengrin" with the other; and I
should soon have been wholly occupied with the fine orchestra had
I not been caught and startled by an unexpected name.
"Have you noticed," some one asked, "how much attention the Baron
von Herisau is paying her?"
I whirled round and exclaimed, in a breath, "The Baron von
Herisau!"
"Yes," said my friend; "do you know him?"
I was glad that three crashing, tremendous chords came from the
orchestra just then, giving me time to collect myself before I
replied: "I am not sure whether it is the same person: I knew a
Baron von Herisau long ago: how old is the gentleman here?"
"About thirty-five, I should think," my friend answered.
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