ed, said, in a whisper--

"I am completely in your power, most honoured Herr Professor. Do what
you will with my miserable body; but I most humbly beg you to spare my
immortal soul."

"Do not talk such absurd nonsense," the Goldsmith said, "but come along
with me as fast as you can." He took hold of Tussmann by the arm, and
led him away. But when they came to where the walk which leads to the
Zelten crosses at right angles, he pulled up, and said--

"Wait a moment, Tussmann. You're wet through, and look like I don't
know what. Just let me wipe your face, at all events."

The Goldsmith took a handkerchief of dazzling whiteness out of his
pocket, and wiped Tussmann's face with it.

The bright lights of the Weberschen Zelt were visible, shining brightly
through the trees. Tussmann cried out, in alarm--

"For God's sake, Herr Professor, where are you taking me? Not into
town? not to my own lodgings? not (oh, heavens!) into society, amongst
my fellow-men? Good heavens! I can't be seen. Wherever I go I give rise
to unpleasantness--create a _scandalum_."

"Tussmann," said the Goldsmith, "I cannot understand that ridiculous
shyness of yours. What do you mean by it? Don't be an ass. What you
want is a drop of something pretty strong. I should say a tumbler of
hot punch, else we shall be having you laid up with a feverish cold.
Come on!"

Tussmann kept on lamenting as to his greenness, and his Salvator Rosa
face; but the Goldsmith paid not the slightest attention to him, merely
hurrying him along with him at a rapid rate.

When they got into the brightly lighted coffee-room, Tussmann hid his
face in his handkerchief, as there were still some people there.

"What's the matter with you, Tussmann?" the Goldsmith asked. "Why do
you keep hiding that good-looking face of yours, eh?"

"Oh, dearest Herr Professor, you know all about this awful face of
mine," Tussmann answered. "You know how that terrible, passionate
painter young gentleman went and daubed it all over with green paint?"

"Nonsense," said the Goldsmith, taking the Clerk of the Privy Chancery
by the shoulders and placing him right in front of the big mirror
at the top of the room, while he threw a strong light on to him
from a branched candlestick which he had taken up. Tussmann forced
himself--much against the grain--to look. He could not restrain a loud
cry of "Gracious heavens!"

For not only had the terrible green tint of his face disappeared, but
he had