the bookshop windows _Unter den Linden_. Charlotte's family
nearly fainted when it had to walk _Unter den Linden_. The Radical
papers, which were only read by Charlotte's family when nobody was
looking and were never allowed openly to darken their doors, took her
under their wing and wrote articles in her praise. It was, they said,
surprising and refreshing to find views and intelligence of the sort
emerging from the suffocating ancestral atmosphere that hangs about the
_Landadel_. The paralysing effect of too many ancestors was not as a
rule to be lightly shaken off, especially by the female descendants.
When it did get shaken off, as in this instance, it should be the
subject of rejoicing to every person who had the advancement of
civilisation at heart. The civilisation of a state could never be great
so long as its women, etc. etc.

My uncle and aunt nearly died of this praise. Her brothers and sisters
stayed in the country and refused invitations. Only the professor seemed
as pleased as ever. 'Charlotte is my cousin,' I said to him at a party
in Berlin where he was being lionised. 'How proud you must be of such a
clever wife!' I had not met him before, and a more pleasant, rosy, nice
little old man I have never seen.

He beamed at me through his spectacles. Almost could I see the narrow
line that separated me from a chin-chucking. 'Yes, yes,' he said, 'so
they all tell me. The little Lotte is making a noise. Empty vessels do.
But I daresay what she tells them is a very pretty little nonsense. One
must not be too critical in these cases.' And, seizing upon the
cousinship, he began to call me _Du_.

I inquired how it was she was wandering about the world alone. He said
he could not imagine. I asked him what he thought of the pamphlets. He
said he had no time for light reading. I was so unfortunate as to
remark, no doubt with enthusiasm, that I had read some of his simpler
works to my great benefit and unbounded admiration. He looked more
benign than ever, and said he had had no idea that anything of his was
taught in elementary schools.

In a word, I was routed by the professor. I withdrew, feeling crushed,
and wondering if I had deserved it. He came after me, called me his
_liebe kleine Cousine_, and sitting down beside me patted my hand and
inquired with solicitude how it was he had never seen me before. Renewed
attempts on my part to feed like a bee on the honey of his learning were
met only by pats. He would p