these papers, which I here return to you; but if curiosity be undignified, as I am free to own, falsehood is both cowardly and cruel. I opened your roll; and what did I find -- what did I find about my wife; Lies!' he broke out. `They are lies! There are not, so help me God! four words of truth in your intolerable libel! You are a man; you are old, and might be the girl's father; you are a gentleman; you are a scholar, and have learned refinement; and you rake together all this vulgar scandal, and propose to print it in a public book! Such is your chivalry! But, thank God, sir, she has still a husband. You say, sir, in that paper in your hand, that I am a bad fencer; I have to request from you a lesson in the art. The park is close behind; yonder is the Pheasant House, where you will find your carriage; should I fall, you know, sir -- you have written it in your paper -- how little my movements are regarded; I am in the custom of disappearing; it will be one more disappearance; and long before it has awakened a remark, you may be safe across the border.'

`You will observe,' said Sir John, `that what you ask is impossible.'

`And if I struck you?' cried the Prince, with a sudden menacing flash.

`It would be a cowardly blow,' returned the Baronet, unmoved, `for it would make no change. I cannot draw upon a reigning sovereign.'

`And it is this man, to whom you dare not offer satisfaction, that you choose to insult!' cried Otto.

`Pardon me,' said the traveller, `you are unjust. It is because you are a reigning sovereign that I cannot fight with you; and it is for the same reason that I have a right to criticise your action and your wife. You are in everything a public creature; you belong to the public, body and bone. You have with you the law, the muskets of the army, and the eyes of spies. We, on our side, have but one weapon -- truth.'

`Truth!' echoed the Prince, with a gesture.

There was another silence.

`Your Highness,' said Sir John at last, `you must not expect grapes from a thistle. I am old and a cynic. Nobody cares a rush for me; and on the whole, after the present interview, I scarce know anybody that I like better than yourself. You see, I have changed my mind, and have the uncommon virtue to avow the change. I tear up this stuff before you, here in your own garden; I ask your pardon, I ask the pardon of the Princess; and I give you my word of honour as a gentleman and an old man, that when my book of travels shall appear it shall not contain so much as the name of Grünewald. And yet it was a racy chapter! But had your Highness only read about the other courts! I am a carrion crow; but it is not my fault, after all, that the world is such a nauseous kennel.'

`Sir,' said Otto, `is the eye not jaundiced?'

`Nay,' cried the traveller, `very likely. I am one who goes sniffing; I am no poet. I believe in a better future for the world; or, at all accounts, I do most potently disbelieve in the present. Rotten eggs is the burthen of my song. But indeed, your Highness, when I meet with any merit, I do not think that I am slow to recognise it. This is a day that I shall still recall with gratitude, for I have found a sovereign with some manly virtues; and for once -- old courtier and old radical as I am -- it is from the heart and quite sincerely that I can request the honour of kissing your Highness's hand?'

`Nay, sir,' said Otto, `to my heart!'

And the Englishman, taken at unawares, was clasped for a moment in the Prince's arms.

`And now, sir,' added Otto, `there is the Pheasant House; close behind it you will find my carriage, which I pray you to accept. God speed you to Vienna!'