e, and the well-known savory odors of the Jewish kitchen rose to my
nose, I was seized with the same yearning which our fathers felt for the
fleshpots of Egypt--pleasant tasting memories of youth came back to me.
In imagination I saw again the carp with brown raisin sauce which my
aunt prepared so sustainingly for Friday eve; I saw once more the
steamed mutton with garlic and horseradish, which might have raised
the dead, and the soup with dreamily swimming dumplings in it--and my
soul melted like the notes of an enamored nightingale--and since then I
have been eating in the restaurant of my friend Dona Schnapper-Elle."

Meanwhile they had arrived at this highly lauded place, where
Schnapper-Elle stood at the door cordially greeting the strangers who
had come to the fair, and who, led by hunger, were now streaming in.
Behind her, sticking his head out over her shoulder, was the tall Nose
Star, anxiously and inquisitively observing them. Don Isaac with an
exaggerated air of dignity approached the landlady, who returned his
satirical reverence with endless curtsies. Thereupon he drew the glove
from his right hand, wrapped it, the hand, in the fold of his cloak, and
grasping Schnapper-Elle's hand, slowly drew it over his moustache,
saying:

"Senora! your eyes rival the brilliancy of the sun! But as eggs, the
longer they are boiled the harder they become, so _vice versa_ my heart
grows softer the longer it is cooked in the flaming flashes of your
eyes. From the yolk of my heart flies up the winged god Amor and seeks a
confiding nest in your bosom. And oh, Senora, wherewith shall I compare
that bosom? For in all the world there is no flower, no fruit, which is
like to it! It is the one thing of its kind! Though the wind tears away
the leaves from the tenderest rose, your bosom is still a winter rose
which defies all storms. Though the sour lemon, the older it grows the
yellower and more wrinkled it becomes, your bosom rivals in color and
softness the sweetest pineapple. Oh, Senora, if the city of Amsterdam be
as beautiful as you told me yesterday, and the day before, and every
day, the ground on which it rests is far lovelier still."

The cavalier spoke these last words with affected earnestness, and
squinted longingly at the large medallion which hung from
Schnapper-Elle's neck. Nose Star looked down with inquisitive eyes, and
the much-bepraised bosom heaved so that the whole city of Amsterdam
rocked from side to side.