companied him to the
gate. At the corner of the street he hailed a droshky and was driven to
his hotel.

The landlord came up smiling. He trusted that the Herr had greatly
enjoyed himself at the Schloss. It was a distinguished honor--in fact,
quite unprecedented. Hoffman, while he determined not to commit himself,
nor his late fair companion, was nevertheless anxious to learn something
more of her relations to the Schloss. So pretty, so characteristic, and
marked a figure must be well known to sightseers. Indeed, once or twice
the idea had crossed his mind with a slightly jealous twinge that left
him more conscious of the impression she had made on him than he had
deemed possible. He asked if the model farm and dairy were always shown
by the same attendants.

"ACH GOTT! no doubt, yes; His Royal Highness had quite a retinue when he
was in residence."

"And were these attendants in costume?"

"There was undoubtedly a livery for the servants."

Hoffman felt a slight republican irritation at the epithet--he knew not
why. But this costume was rather a historical one; surely it was not
entrusted to everyday menials--and he briefly described it.

His host's blank curiosity suddenly changed to a look of mysterious and
arch intelligence.

"ACH GOTT! yes!" He remembered now (with his finger on his nose) that
when there was a fest at the Schloss the farm and dairy were filled with
shepherdesses, in quaint costume worn by the ladies of the Grand Duke's
own theatrical company, who assumed the characters with great vivacity.
Surely it was the same, and the Grand Duke had treated the Herr to this
special courtesy. Yes--there was one pretty, blonde young lady--the
Fraulein Wimpfenbuttel, a most popular soubrette, who would play it to
the life! And the description fitted her to a hair! Ah, there was no
doubt of it; many persons, indeed, had been so deceived.

But happily, now that he had given him the wink, the Herr could
corroborate it himself by going to the theater tonight. Ah, it would be
a great joke--quite colossal! if he took a front seat where she could
see him. And the good man rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation.

Hoffman had listened to him with a slow repugnance that was only equal
to his gradual conviction that the explanation was a true one, and
that he himself had been ridiculously deceived. The mystery of his fair
companion's costume, which he had accepted as part of the "show"; the
inconsistency of her m