the cause of her sadness, she
wept like--"

"Like a crocodile," said the duke. "Oh, I know those tears of Fraulein
Goechhausen; I could relate stories of her crocodile nature. Mother, how
can you have such a monster in your society? Why not make the cornes,
that the little devils may fly away?"

"Very good," cried the little, crooked lady. "I see your highness has
not changed by this journey. Where have you been, dear duke? Oh, I
remember; you flew over the Rhine, and have flown home again quite
unchanged."

All laughed, the duke louder than any one. "Goechhausen, you are a
glorious creature, and the Arminius is to be envied who appropriates
this Thusnelda. Oh, I see the charming youth before me, who has the
courage to make this German wife his own!"

"I will scratch his eyes out?" cried Goechhausen, "and then the Countess
Werther can play Antigone, and lead him around as Oedipus. Why shut your
eyes, Einsiedel? I do not scratch quite yet."

"I was not thinking of that," said the baron, astonished.

"You never think that every one knows; but did you not do it so soon
as you understood the Countess Werther should lead blind Oedipus as
Antigone?"

Before the count could answer, the court lady turned again to the duke.
"What did your highness bring me? I hope you have not forgotten that you
promised me a handsome present."

"No, I have not forgotten it; I have brought my Thusnelda a
souvenir--such a gift!"

"What is it, your highness?"

"A surprise which, if Thusnelda is clever, she must think about all
night.--But, Goethe, is it not time to leave the ladies?"

"Wait, I command you both," said the Duchess Amelia, extending her hand
to her son, who pressed it to his lips most affectionately. "I
have given out invitations for a soiree, for this evening. My
daughter-in-law, the Duchess Louisa, has accepted, duke, and Frau von
Stein also, Goethe. I hope to see you at Belvedere, gentlemen. The poet
Gleim is in town, and will read his late 'Muse Almanach.' May I not
expect both of you?"

They joyfully consented, gazing after the merry society as it drove
away. "This is a good bite for the poisonous tongues of the honorable,"
cried the duke. "My mother in a farm-wagon, with Wieland's green
overcoat on, and the reigning duke, with his Goethe, entering his
capital on foot like a journeyman mechanic, after a long journey!"

"I wish we were there, my dearest friend," sighed Goethe.

"Oh, love makes you impatient! C