It was towards the close of a glorious August, and for two months I had

been wandering in Rhine-land. Not after the fashion of deluded Cockneys,

who fancy they have seen the Rhine when they have careered from Cologne

to Mannheim astride of a steam-engine, gaping at objects passed as soon

as perceived; drinking and paying for indifferent vinegar as

Steinberger-Cabinet, eating vile dinners on the decks of steamers, and

excellent ones in the capital hotels which British cash and patronage

have raised upon the banks of the flower of German streams. On the

contrary, I had early dispensed with the aid of steam, to wander on

foot, with the occasional assistance of a lazy country diligence or

rickety _einspanner_, through the many beautiful districts that lie upon

either bank of the river; pedestrianising in Rhenish Bavaria, losing

myself in the Odenwald, and pausing, when occasion offered, to pick a

trout out of the numerous streamlets that dash and meander through dell

and ravine, on their way to swell the waters of old Father Rhine. At

last, weary of solitude--scarcely broken by an occasional gossip with a

heavy German boor, village priest, or strolling student,--I thirsted

after the haunts of civilisation, and found myself, within a day of the

appearance of the symptom, installed in a luxurious hotel in the free

city of Frankfort on the Maine. But Frankfort at that season is

deserted, save by passing tourists, who escape as fast as possible from

its lifeless streets and sun-baked pavements; so, after glancing over an

English newspaper at the Casino, taking one stroll in the beautiful

garden surrounding the city, and another through the Jew-quarter--always

interesting and curious, although any thing but savoury at that warm

season,--I gathered together my baggage and was off to Homburg. There I

could not complain of solitude, of deserted streets and shuttered

windows. It seemed impossible that the multitude of gaily dressed belles

and cavaliers, English, French, German, and Russ, who, from six in the

morning until sunset, lounged and flirted on the walks, watered

themselves at the fountains, and perilled their complexions in the

golden sunbeams, could ever bestow themselves in the two or three

middling hotels and few score shabby lodging-houses composing the town

of Homburg. Manage it they did, however; crept into their narrow cells

at night, to emerge next morning, like butterflies from the chrysalis,

gay, bright, and brilliant, and to recommence the never-varying but

pleasant round of eating, sauntering, love-making, and gambling. Homburg

was not then what it has since become. That great house of cards, the

new Cursaal, had not yet arisen; and its table-d'hote, reading-room, and

profane mysteries of roulette and rouge-et-noir, found temporary

domicile in a narrow, disreputable-looking den in the main street, where

accommodation of all kinds, but especially for dinner, was scanty in the

extreme. The public tables at the hotels were consequently thronged, and

there acquaintances were soon made. The day of my arrival at Homburg I

was seated next to Van Haubitz; his manner was off hand and frank, we

entered into conversation, took our after-dinner cigar and evening

stroll together, and by bed-time had knocked up that sort of intimacy

easily contracted at a watering-place, which lasts one's time of

residence, and is extinguished and forgotten on departure. Van Haubitz,

like many Continentals and very few Englishmen, was one of those

free-and-easy communicative persons who are as familiar after twelve

hours' acquaintance as if they had known you twelve years, and who do

not hesitate to confide to a three days' acquaintance the history of

their lives, their pursuits, position, and prospects. I was soon made

acquainted, to a very considerable extent, at least, with those of my

friend Van Haubitz, late lieutenant of artillery in the service of his

majesty the King of Holland. He was the youngest of four sons, and

having shown, at a very early age, a wild and intractable disposition,

and precocious addiction to dissipation, his father pronounced him

unsuited to business, and decided on placing him in the army. To this

the _Junker_, (he claimed nobility, and displayed above his arms a

species of coronet, bearing considerable resemblance to a fragment of

chevaux-de-frise, which he might have been puzzled to prop with a

parchment,) had no particular objection, and might have made a good

enough officer, but for his reckless, spendthrift manner of life, which

entailed negligence of duty and frequent reprimands. Extravagant beyond

measure, unable to deny himself any gratification, squandering money as

though millions were at his command, he was constantly overwhelmed with

debts and a martyr to duns. At last his father, after thrice clearing

him with his creditors, consented to do so a fourth time only on

condition of his getting transferred to a regiment stationed in the

Dutch East Indies, and remaining there until his return had the paternal

sanction. To avoid a prison, and perhaps not altogether sorry to leave a

country where his credit was bad and his reputation worse, he embarked

for Batavia. But any pleasant day-dreams he may have cherished of

tropical luxuries, of the indulgence of a _farniente_ life in a grass

hammock, gently balanced by Javan houris beneath banana shades, of

spice-laden breezes and cool sherbets, and other attributes of a

Mahomedan paradise, were speedily dissipated by the odious realities of

filth and vermin, marsh-fever and mosquitoes. He wrote to his father,

describing the horrors of the place, and begging to be released from his

pledge and allowed to return to Holland. His obdurate progenitor replied

by a letter of reproach, and swore that if he left Batavia he might live

on his pay, and never expect a stiver from the paternal strong-box,

either as gift or bequest. To live upon his pay would have been no easy

matter, even for a more prudent and economical person than Van Haubitz.

He grumbled immoderately, blasphemed like a pagan, but remained where he

was. A year passed and he could hold out no longer. Disregarding the

paternal menaces and displeasure, and reckless of consequences, he

applied to the chief military authority of the colony for leave of

absence. He was asked his plea, and alleged ill health. The general

thought he looked pretty well, and requested the sight of a medical

certificate of his invalid state. Van Haubitz assumed a doleful

countenance and betook him to the surgeons. They agreed with the

general that he looked pretty healthy; asked for symptoms; could

discover none more alarming than regularity of pulse, sleep, appetite,

and digestion, laughed in his face and refused the certificate. The

sickly cannonier, who had the constitution of a rhinoceros, and had

never had a day's illness since he got over the measles at the age of

four years, waited a little, and tried the second "dodge," usually

resorted to in such cases. "Urgent private affairs" were now the

pretext. The general expressed his regret that urgent public affairs

rendered it impossible for him to dispense with the valuable services of

Lieutenant Van Haubitz. Whereupon Lieutenant Van Haubitz passed half an

hour in heaping maledictions on the head of his disobliging commander,

and then sat down and wrote an application for an exchange to the

authorities in Holland. The reply was equally unsatisfactory, the fact

being that Haubitz senior, like an implacable old savage as he was, had

made interest at the war-office for the refusal of all such requests on

the part of his scapegrace offspring. Haubitz junior took patience for

another year, and then, in a moment of extreme disgust and ennui, threw

up his commission and returned to Europe, trusting, he told me, that

after five years' absence, the governor's bowels would yearn towards his

youngest-born. In this he was entirely mistaken; he greatly underrated

the toughness of paternal viscera. Far from killing the fatted calf on

the prodigal's return, the incensed old Hollander refused him the

smallest cutlet, and shutting the door in his face, consigned him, with

more energy than affection, to the custody of the evil one. Van Haubitz

found himself in an awkward fix. Credit was dead, none of his relatives

would notice or assist him; his whole fortune consisted of a dozen gold

Wilhelms. At this critical moment an eccentric maiden aunt, to whom, a

year or two previously, he had sent a propitiatory offering of a

ring-tailed monkey and a leash of pea-green parrots, and who had never

condescended even to acknowledge the present, departed this life,

bequeathing him ten thousand florins as a return for the addition to her

menagerie. A man of common prudence, and who had seen himself so near

destitution, would have endeavoured to employ this sum, moderate as it

was, in some trade or business, or, at any rate, would have lived

sparingly till he found other resources. But Haubitz had not yet sown

all his wild-oats; he had a soul above barter, a glorious disregard of

the future, the present being provided for. He left Holland, shaking the

dust from his boots, dashed across Belgium, and was soon plunged in the

gaieties of a Paris carnival. Breakfasts at the Rocher, dinners at the

Cafe, balls at the opera, and the concomitant _petits soupers_ and

ecarte parties with the fair denizens of the Quartier Lorette, soon

operated a prodigious chasm in the monkey-money, as Van Haubitz

irreverently styled his venerable aunt's bequest. Spring having arrived,

he beat a retreat from Paris, and established himself at Homburg, where

he was quietly completing the consumption of the ten thousand florins,

at rather a slower pace than he would have done at that head-quarters of

pleasant iniquity, the capital of France. From hints he had let fall, I

suspected a short time would suffice to see the last of the legacy. On

this head, however, he had been less confidential than on most other

matters, and certainly his manner of living would have led no one to

suppose he was low in the locker. Nothing was too good for him; he drank

the most expensive wines, got up parties and pic-nics for the ladies,

and had a special addiction to the purchase of costly trinkets, which he

generally gave away before they had been a day in his possession. He did

not gamble; he had done so, he told me, once since he was at Homburg,

and had won, but he had no faith in his luck, or taste for that kind of

excitement, and should play no more. He was playing another game just

now, which apparently interested him greatly. A few days before myself,

a young actress, who, within a very short time, had acquired

considerable celebrity, had arrived at Homburg, escorted by her mother.

Fraulein Emilie Sendel was a lively lady of four-and-twenty or

thereabouts, possessing a smart figure and pretty face, the latter

somewhat wanting in refinement. Her blue eyes although rather too

prominent, had a merry sparkle; her cheeks had not yet been entirely

despoiled by envious rouge of their natural healthful tinge; her hair,

of that peculiar tint of red auburn which the French call a _blond

hasarde_, was more remarkable for abundance and flexibility than for

fineness of texture. As regarded her qualities and accomplishments, she

was good-humoured and tolerably unaffected, but wilful and capricious as

a spoiled child; she spoke her own language pretty well, with an

occasional slight vulgarism or bit of green-room slang; had a smattering

of French, and played the piano sufficiently to accompany the ballads

and vaudeville airs which she sang with spirit and considerable freedom

of style. I had met German actresses who were far more lady-like off the

stage, but there was nothing glaringly or repulsively vulgar about

Emilie, and as a neighbour at a public dinner-table, she was amusing and

quite above par. As if to vindicate her nationality, she would

occasionally look sentimental, but the mood sat ill upon her, and never

lasted long; comedy was evidently her natural line. Against her

reputation, rumour, always an inquisitive censor, often a mean libeller,

of ladies of her profession, had as yet, so far as I could learn, found

nothing to allege. Her mother, a dingy old dowager, with bad teeth,

dowdy gowns, a profusion of artificial flowers, and a strong addiction

to tea and knitting, perfectly understood the duties of duennaship, and

did propriety by her daughter's side at dinner-table and promenade. To

the heart of the daughter, Van Haubitz, almost from the first hour he

had seen her, had laid persevering and determined siege.

During our after-dinner tete-a-tete on the day now referred to, my

friend the cannonier had shown himself exceedingly unreserved, and,

without any attempt on my part to draw him out, he had elucidated, with

a frankness that must have satisfied the most inquisitive, whatever

small points of his recent history and present position he had

previously left in obscurity. The conversation began, so soon as the

cloth was removed and the guests had departed, by a jesting allusion on

my part to his flirtation with the actress, and to her gracious

reception of his attentions.

"It is no mere flirtation," said Van, gravely. "My intentions are

serious. You may depend Mademoiselle Sendel understands them as such."

"Serious! you don't mean that you want to marry her?"

"Unquestionably I do. It is my only chance."

"Your only chance!" I repeated, considerably puzzled. "Are you about to

turn actor, and do you trust to her for instruction in histrionics?"

"Not exactly. I will explain. La Sendel, you must know, has just

terminated her last engagement, which was at a salary of ten thousand

florins. She has already received and accepted an offer of a new one, at

fifteen thousand, from the Vienna theatre. Vienna is a very pleasant

place. Fifteen thousand florins are thirty-two thousand francs, or

twelve hundred of your English pounds sterling. Upon that stun two

persons can live excellently well--in Germany at least."

Unable to contradict any of these assertions, I held my tongue. The

Dutchman resumed.

"You know the history of my past life; I will tell you my present

position. It is critical enough, but I shall improve it, for here," and

he touched his forehead, "is what never fails me. This letter," he

produced an epistle of mercantile aspect, bearing the Amsterdam

post-mark, "I received last week from my eldest brother. The shabby

_schelm_ declares he will reply to no more of mine, that his efforts to

arrange matters with my father have been fruitless, and that the old

gentleman has strictly forbidden him and his brothers to hold any

communication with me, a command they seem willing enough to obey. So

much for that. And now for the finances."

He took out his pocket-book, opened and shook it, a flimsy crumpled bit

of paper fell out. It was a note of the bank of France, for one thousand

francs.

"My last," said he. "That gone, I am a beggar. But it won't come to

that, either, thanks to Fraulein Emilie."

"Surely," said I, "you are too reckless of money, too extravagant and

unreflecting. Six months ago, you told me, you had twenty such notes."

"Ay, twenty-two exactly, at the end of January, when I left Amsterdam.

But whither was I bound? To Paris; and who can economize there? I've had

my money's worth, and could have had no more, had I dribbled the dirty

ten thousand florins over three years, instead of three months. I take

great credit for making it last so long. Such suppers, and balls, and

orgies, with the pleasantest fellows and prettiest actresses in Paris.

But the louis-d'or roll rapidly in that sort of society. One must be a

Russian prince, or French _feuilletoniste_, to keep it up. I never

flinched at any thing so long as the money lasted. Then, when I found

myself reduced to the last note, I got into the Frankfort mail, and came

to rusticate at this rural roulette table. My next change will be to

conjugation and Vienna."

"But if you had only a thousand francs on leaving Paris, and have got

them still, how have you lived since?"

"You don't suppose these are the same? There are not many ways of

getting through money here, unless one gambles, which I do not; but coin

has somehow or other a peculiar aptitude to slip through my fingers, and

the thousand francs soon evaporated. Meanwhile, I had written dozens of

letters to my brothers, who seldom answered, and to my father, who never

did. I promised reform and a respectable life, if they would either get

me a snug place with little to do and good pay, or make me a reasonable

yearly allowance, something better than the paltry three thousand

florins they doled out to me when I was in the artillery, and on which,

as I could not live, I was obliged to get in debt. They paid no

attention to my request, reasonable as it was. The best offer they made

me was five francs a-day, paid weekly, to live in a Silesian village.

This was adding insult to injury, and I left off writing to them. A few

days afterwards, taking out my purse to pay for cigars, a dollar dropped

out. It was my last. I paid it away, walked home, lay down upon my bed,

smoked and reflected. My position was gloomy enough, and the more I

looked at it, the blacker it seemed. From my undutiful relatives there

was no hope; the abominable Silesian project was evidently their

ultimatum. I had no friend to turn to, no resource left. I might

certainly have obtained the mere necessaries of life at this hotel,

where my credit was excellent, and have vegetated for a month or two, as

a man must vegetate, without ready money. But I had no fancy for such an

expedient, a mere protraction of the agony. I lay ruminating for two

hours, two such hours as I should be sorry to pass again, and then my

mind was made up. I had a brace of small travelling pistols amongst my

baggage; these I loaded and put in my pocket, and then, leaving the

hotel and the town, I struck across the country for some distance and

plunged into a wood. There I sat down upon a grass bank, my back against

an old beech. It was evening, and the solitary little glade before me

was striped with the last sunbeams darting between the tree-trunks. I

have difficulty in defining my sensations at that moment. I was quite

resolved, did not waver an instant in my purpose, but my head was dizzy,

and I had a sickly sensation about the heart. Determined that the

physical shrinking from death should not have time to weaken my moral

determination, I hastily opened my waistcoat, felt for the pulsations of

my heart, placed the muzzle of a pistol where they were strongest,

steadying it on that spot with my left hand. Then I looked straight

before me and pulled the trigger. There was the click of the lock, but

no report; the cap was bad, and had been crushed without exploding. That

was a horrible moment. I snatched up another pistol, which lay cocked to

my hand, and thrust the muzzle into my mouth. As before, the sharp noise

of the hammer upon the nipple was the sole result. The caps had been

some time in my possession, and had become worthless through age or

damp."

I looked at Van Haubitz, doubtful whether he was not hoaxing me. But

hitherto I had observed in him no addiction to the Munchausen vein, and

now his countenance and voice were serious; there was a slight flush on

his cheek, and he was evidently excited at the recollection of his

abortive attempt at suicide,--perhaps a little ashamed of it. I was

convinced he told the truth.

"I do not know," he continued, "whether, had I had surer weapons with

me, I should have had courage to make a third attempt upon my life.

Honestly, I think not; the self-preservative instinct was rapidly

gaining strength. I walked slowly back to the town, my brain still

confused from the agitating moments I had passed. I was unable quite to

collect my thoughts, and felt as if I had just awakened from a long

heavy sleep. It was now dark; lights streamed from the open windows of

the gambling-rooms; the voices of the croupiers, the stir and hum of the

players and jingling of money were distinctly heard in the street

without. I have already told you I am no gambler, not from scruple, but

choice. Nevertheless, I used often to stroll up to the Cursaal for an

hour of in evening, when the play was at the highest, to look on and

chat with any acquaintances I met. Mechanically, I now ascended the

stairs. On the landing-place, I found myself face to face with a man

with whom I was slightly intimate, and who, a few evenings before, had

borrowed forty francs of me. I had not seen him since, and he now

returned me the piece of gold. 'Try your luck with it,' said he; 'there

is a run against the bank tonight, every body wins, and M. Blanc looks

blue.' And he pointed to one of the proprietors of the tables, who,

however, wore a tolerably tranquil air, knowing well that what was

carried away one night, would come back with compound interest the next.

The play was heavy at the Rouge-et-noir table; a Russian and two

Frenchmen--the latter of whom, judging from their appearance, and from

the complicated array of calculations on the table before them, were

professional gamblers--extracted, at nearly every _coup_, notes or

rouleaus of gold from the grated boxes in front of the bankers. I drank

a glass of water, for my lips and mouth were dry and hot, and placing

myself as near the table as the crowd of players and spectators

permitted, watched the game. My hand was in my pocket, the forty-franc

piece still between its fingers. But in spite of the advice of him who

had paid it me, I felt no disposition to risk the coin; not that I

feared to lose it, for as my only one it was useless, but because, as I

tell you, I never had the slightest love of gambling or expectation to

win.

"A pause occurred in the game. The cards had run out, and the bankers

were subjecting them to those complicated and ostentatious shufflings

intended to convince the players of the fairness of their dealings.

During this operation, the previous silence was exchanged for eager

gossip. The game, it appeared, had come out that night in a peculiar

manner, very favourable to those who had had _nous_ and nerve to avail

themselves of it. There had been alternate long runs upon red and black.

"'_Mille noms de Dieu_!' exclaimed a hoarse cracked voice just below me.

'What a series of black! Twenty-two, and only three red! And to be

unable to take advantage of it!'

"I looked down, and recognised the gray mustache, wrinkled features, and

snuffy black coat with a ribbon of the Legion of Honour, of an old

French colonel whom you may have seen limping in and out of the Cursaal,

and who ranks amongst the antiquities of Homburg. He served under

Napoleon, was shelved at the peace, and has lived since then on a

moderate annuity, of which one-fifth procures him the barest necessaries

of existence, whilst the other four parts are annually absorbed in the

vortex of rouge-et-noir. When gambling-houses were legal at Paris, _le

colonel rape_, the threadbare colonel, as he was called, was one of the

most punctual attendants at Frascati's and the Palais Royal. When they

were abolished, he commenced a wandering existence amongst the German

baths, and finally settled down at Homburg, giving it the preference, as

the only place where he could follow his darling pursuit alike in winter

and in summer. From the opening to the close of the play he is seen

seated at the table, a number of cards, ruled in red and black columns,

on the green cloth before him, in which he pricks with pins the progress

of the game. That evening he had been unfortunate, and had emptied his

pocket, but nevertheless continued puncturing cards with laudable

perseverance, of course discovering, like every penniless gambler, that,

had he money to stake, he should infallibly make a fortune; predicting

what colour would come out, and indulging, when he proved a true

prophet, in a little subdued blasphemy because he was unable to profit

by his acuteness.

"'Extraordinary run! to be sure,' repeated the veteran dicer.

'Twenty-two black, and only three red! There'll be a series of red now:

I feel there will, and when I don't play myself, I'm always right. I bet

this deal begins with seven red. Who bets a hundred francs to fifty it

does not?'

"Nobody accepted this sporting offer, or placed upon the colour which

the colonel's prophetic soul foresaw was to come out. The cards were now

shuffled and cut for dealing. The hell relapsed into silence.

"'_Faites le jeu, Messieurs!_' was repeated in the harsh business-like

tones of the presiding demon.

"'Red wins,' croaked the colonel. 'Seven times at the least.'

"Nearly all the players backed the black. By an idle impulse I threw

down my forty francs, my entire fortune, upon the red. The old soldier

looked round to see the judicious individual who followed his advice,

smiled grimly, and nodded approvingly. The next moment red won. I let

the money lie, and walked into the next room. Eighty francs were of no

more use to me than forty, and I felt very sure that another turn of the

card would carry off both stake and winnings. I took up a newspaper, but

soon threw it down again, for my head was not clear enough to read, and

I felt exhausted with the emotions of the day. I was about to leave the

house when I heard a loud buzz in the card-room, and the next instant

somebody clutched my arm. It was the French colonel, in a state of

furious excitement; grinning, panting, perspiring, and stuttering with

eagerness.

"'Seven reds!' was all he could say. 'Seven reds, Monsieur. Take up your

money.'

"I hastened to the table. By a strange caprice of fortune, the colonel's

prophecy had come true. Red had won seven times, and my forty francs had

become five thousand. I took up my winnings, the colonel looking on with

a triumphant smile. This was suddenly exchanged for a portentous frown

and fierce twist of the gray mustache.

"'_Mille millions de tonnerres!_ Not a dollar left to follow up that

splendid run!' And with a furious gesture, he upset his chair, and

dashed his cards upon the ground.

"I took the hint, whether intended or not. I could not do less in return

for the five thousand francs the old gentleman had put in my pocket.

"'If Monsieur,' I said, 'will allow me the pleasure of lending him--'

"'_Impossible, Monsieur!_' interrupted the colonel, looking as stern as

if about to charge single-handed a whole pult of Cossacks. But I knew my

man. He was the type of a class of which I have seen many.

"'_Cependant, Monsieur, entre militaires_, between brother-soldiers--'

"'_Ah! Monsieur est militaire!_' exclaimed the old gentleman, his

alarming contraction of brow and rigidity of feature instantaneously

dissolving into a smile of extreme benignity. 'That alters the case.

Certainly, between brothers in arms those little services may be offered

and accepted. Although, really, it is encroaching on Monsieur's

complaisance ... at the same time ... a hundred francs ... till

to-morrow ... quarters at some distance ... &c. &c.' which ended in his

picking up his chair, cards, and pin, and applying all his faculties to

break the bank with ten _louis_ which I lent him, and which I need

hardly say I have not seen from that day to this.

"Such a sudden stroke of good fortune would have made gamblers of nine

men out of ten, but I decidedly want the organ of gaming, for I have

never played since. My narrow escape from suicide had made some

impression on me, and now that I had five thousand francs in my pocket,

I looked back at the attempt as an exceedingly foolish proceeding. For a

month or more, I lived with what even you would admit to be great

economy, writing frequent letters to Amsterdam, and trying to come to

terms and an arrangement with my family. All in vain. They had no

confidence in my promises, proposed nothing I could accept, talked of

Silesian exile--roots and water in the wilderness--and the like

absurdities, until I plainly saw they were determined to cast me off,

and that if I was to be helped at all, it must be by myself. How to do

this was the puzzle. There are few things I can do, that could in any

way be rendered profitable. I can ride a horse, lay a gun, and put a

battery through its exercise; but such accomplishments are sufficiently

common not to be paid at a very high rate; and besides I had had enough

of garrison duty, even could I have got back my commission, which was

not very likely. So I put soldiering out of the question; and yet, when

I had done so, I was infernally puzzled to think of any thing better. I

had no fancy to turn rook, and rove from place to place in search of

pigeons--no uncommon resource with younger brothers of an idle turn and

exhausted means. I had fallen in with a few birds of that breed, and had

come to the conclusion that to save themselves work and trouble, they

had adopted by far the most laborious and painful of all professions. In

the midst of my doubts and uncertainties, the fair Sendel and her mother

made their appearance. The first sight of their names upon the hotel

book was a ray of light to me. Within an hour I made up my mind to

sacrifice my independence to my necessities, and become the virtuous and

domesticated spouse of the charming and well-paid Emilie. A hint and a

dollar to the waiter placed me next her at the table-d'hote, and I

immediately opened my intrenchments, and began a siege in due form."

"Which you expect will soon terminate by the capitulation of the

garrison?" said I, laughing.

"Undoubtedly. The result of the first day or two's operations was not

very satisfactory. I rattled away, and did the amiable to a furious

extent; but the divinity was shy, and the guardian of the temple (an old

gorgon whom I shall suppress before the honeymoon is out) looked askance

at me, and pulled her daughter by the sleeve whenever she seemed

disposed to listen. They evidently thought the rattle might belong to a

snake; did me the injustice to take me for an adventurer. On the third

day, however, the ice had melted. I soon found out the cause of the

thaw. The head-waiter, whom a little well-timed liberality had rendered

my devoted slave, informed me that Madame Sendel had been making minute

inquiries concerning me of the master of the hotel. The worthy man, who

adored me because I despised _vin ordinaire_ and looked only at the

sum-total of his bills, said that I was a son of Van Haubitz, the rich

banker of Amsterdam, which was perfectly true; adding, which was rather

less so, that I was a partner in the house, and a _millionaire_. The

effect of this information upon the speculative firm of Sendel _Mere et

Fille_, was perfectly electric. Medusa smoothed her horrid looks, and

came out at that day's dinner in cherry ribands and fresh artificials.

Emilie was all smiles and suavity, laughed at my worst jokes, nearly

burst her stays by holding her breath to raise a blush at my soft

speeches, and returned from that evening's promenade talking about the

moon, and leaning with tender _abandon_, on my arm."

"With such encouragement, I am surprised you did not propose at once."

"So hasty a measure--oh, most unsophisticated of Britons!" replied Van,

with a look of grave pity for my simplicity--"would have greatly

perilled the success of my scheme. Sendel Senior, having only the

innkeeper's report to rely upon, would have had her ungenerous

suspicions re-awakened by my precipitation, and have instituted further

inquiries; have written, probably, to some friend in Holland, and

learned that the pretender to her daughter's hand, although

unquestionably a son of the wealthy banker Van Haubitz, is excluded

beyond redemption from the good graces of that respectable pillar of

Dutch finance, who has further announced his irrevocable determination

to take not the slightest notice of him in his testamentary

dispositions. The excellent Herr Bratenbengel, whose succulent dinner we

are now digesting, and whose very laudable _Rudesheimer_ stands before

us, had unwittingly laid the foundation of my success; it was for me to

raise the superstructure. Now it was that I rejoiced at my economy since

the lucky hit at the gaming-table. The greater part of my winnings still

remained to me; golden grain, which I now profusely scattered, sure that

it would yield rich harvest. On one manoeuvre I particularly pride

myself. Retaining a few napoleons for immediate use, I remitted the

remainder to a friend in Amsterdam, requesting him to return it me in a

bill on Frankfort drawn by my father's bank. I took care to have the

letter containing the draft delivered to me at dinner when seated beside

the adorable Emilie, and was equally careful to lay the bill open upon

the table, whilst I took a hasty glance at the letter. Of course my

neighbour pretended not to see the draft, and equally of course she made

herself mistress of its contents, particularly noting the drawer's name,

and communicating the same to her mother at the earliest opportunity.

This had a good effect, establishing my connexion with the rich house of

Van Haubitz; and I have taken care to confirm the favourable impression

by the profuse expenditure which you, in your ignorance, have called

extravagance, by treating money as if its abundance in my coffers made

it valueless in my eyes, and by delicate generosity in the shape of

presents to mother and daughter. The trap was too cunningly set to prove

a failure; the birds are fairly snared, and tonight, when we take our

usual romantic stroll, I shall raise the fair Sendel to the seventh

heaven of happiness by asking her to become Madame Van Haubitz."

Although the tenour and tone of these confessions had by no means tended

to elevate the Dutchman in my opinion, I could not forbear smiling at

the coolness with which they were made and at the skill of his

manoeuvres. Still there was some good about the scamp; he had his own

code of honour, such as it was, and from that he would not easily have

been induced to swerve. He would have scorned to do a dirty thing, to

cheat at cards, or leave a debt of honour unpaid; but would readily have

got in debt to tradesmen and money-lenders beyond all possibility of

reimbursement. And as regarded his present conspiracy against the

celibacy and salary of Mademoiselle Sendel, a synod of sages and

logicians would have failed to convince him of its impropriety. He

looked upon it as a most justifiable stratagem, a lawful preying upon

the spoiler, praiseworthy in the sight of men, gods, and columns, and

which he would perhaps have boasted of to a considerable extent to many

besides myself, had not secrecy been essential to the welfare of his

combinations. I, of course, did not feel called upon to betray his plot,

or to put the Sendel on her guard against this snake amongst the roses.

And whilst mentally resolving rather to diminish than increase the

intimacy which the confident and confidential artilleryman had in great

measure forced upon me, and which I, through a sort of easy-going

indolence of character, had perhaps somewhat lightly accepted, I

anticipated much diversion in watching the manoeuvres of the high

contracting parties. I considered myself as a spectator, called upon to

witness an amusing comedy in real life, and admitted behind the scenes

by peculiar favour of an actor. I resolved to watch the progress of the

intrigue, and, if possible, to be present at the _denouement_.

"Are you quite certain," said I to Van, "that Mademoiselle Sendel's

pecuniary position and prospects are so very favourable? The sum you

mentioned is a large one for an actress who has been so short a time on

the stage. Public report, very apt to take liberties with the reputation

of theatrical ladies, often endeavours to compensate them by magnifying

their salaries."

Van, I may here mention, lest the reader should not have perceived it,

had a most inordinate opinion of his own abilities and acuteness. Like

certain Yankees, he "conceited" it was necessary to rise before the sun

to outwit him, and even then your chance was a poor one. He had been in

hot water all his life, never out of difficulties and scrapes, once, as

has been shown, kept from suicide by a mere accident, and was now

reduced to the alternative of beggary or of marrying for a living. None

of these circumstances, which would have taken the conceit out of most

men, at all impaired his opinion of his talent and sharpness. Replying

to my observation merely by a slight shrug and smile of pity for the man

who thus misappreciated his foresight, he again produced his

pocket-book, and extracted from its innermost recesses a fragment of a

German newspaper, reputed oracular in matters theatrical. This he handed

to me, tapping a particular paragraph significantly with his forefinger.

The paragraph was thus conceived:--

"Theatrical Intelligence.--That promising young actress, Fraulein Emilie

Sendel--whose first appearance, in the spring of last year, at once

established her in the foremost line of the dramatic genius of the

day--has concluded her twelve months' engagement at the _Hof Theater_ of

B----, where she doubtless considered, and not without reason, that her

talents and exertions were inadequately compensated by a salary of ten

thousand florins. The gay society of that _Residenz_ will sensibly feel

the loss of the accomplished and fascinating comedian, who has accepted

an engagement at Vienna, on the more suitable terms of fifteen thousand

florins, with two months' _conge_, and other advantages. Before

proceeding to ravish the eyes and cars of the pleasure-loving population

of the _Kaiser-Stadt, la belle_ Sendel is off to the baths, under the

protecting wing of the watchful guardian who has presided at all her

theatrical triumphs."

"Clear enough, I think," said Van, when I raised my eyes from the

protracted periods of the penny-a-liner.

I had nothing to say against the lucidity of the paragraph, nor any

thing to urge, at all likely to avail, against the prosecution of Van's

designs upon the lady's hand and fifteen thousand florins, with "two

months' _conge_ and other advantages." No possible sophistry, to which I

was equal, could prove the marriage to be against his interest; and as

to trying him on the tack of delicacy--"imposition on an unprotected

woman,--degrading dependence on her exertions," and so forth--I knew the

thick skin and indomitable self-conceit of the cannonier would repel

such feather-shafts without feeling them, or that the utmost effect I

could expect to produce would be to get myself into a quarrel with the

redoubtable native of the Netherlands, a predicament in which, as a man

of peace, I was by no means anxious to find myself. So after hazarding

the fruitless hint with which the reader was made acquainted at the

commencement of this narrative, I abstained from all further

intermeddling, and retired to my apartment, leaving Van Haubitz to con

the declaration with which he was that evening to rejoice the ears of

the fair and too-confiding Sendel.

I went to bed early that night and, saw nothing more of the Hollander

till the next morning, when I was roused from a balmy slumber at the

untimely hour of seven, by his bursting into my room with more

impetuosity than ceremony, with the gestures of a maniac and shouts of

victory. Before my eyes were half open, he was more than half through

the history of his proceedings on the previous evening. His success had

been complete. Emilie had faltered, with downcast eyes, a sweet assent.

The friendly gloom of eve, and the overarching foliage, beneath whose

shade the momentous question was put, saved her the necessity of

practising upon her lungs to produce a blush. Mamma Sendel had bestowed

her blessing upon the happy pair, and in the ardour of her maternal

accolades had nearly extinguished her future son-in-law's left ogle with

the wire stalk of an artificial passion-flower. The first burst of

benevolence over, and the effervescence of feeling a little subsided,

the bridegroom elect, who could not afford delays, pressed for an early

day. Thereupon Emilie was, of course, horror-stricken, but her maternal

relative, nothing loath to land the fish thus satisfactorily hooked, and

well aware of the impediments that sometimes arise between cup and lip,

ranged herself upon the side of the eager lover, and their combined

forces bore down all opposition. Madame Sendel at first showed an

evident hankering after a preliminary jaunt to Amsterdam and a gay

wedding, graced by the presence of the bridegroom's numerous and wealthy

family. She also testified some anxiety as to the view Van Haubitz

Senior might take of his son's matrimonial project, and as to how far he

might approve of a hasty and unceremonious wedding. But the gallant

artilleryman had an answer to every thing. He pledged himself, which he

was perfectly safe in doing, that his father would not attempt in the

slightest degree to control his inclinations or interfere with his

projects, extolled the delights of an autumnal tour with his wife and

mother-in-law before returning to Holland; in short, was so plausible in

his arguments, so specious and pressing, pleading so eloquently the

violence of his love and inutility of delay, and overruling objections

with such cogent reasoning, that he achieved a complete triumph, and it

was agreed that in one week Van Haubitz should lead his adored Emilie to

the hymeneal altar. In the interval, he would have abundant time to

obtain his father's consent and the necessary papers from Amsterdam--all

of which he doubted not he should most satisfactorily procure by the

kind aid of the accommodating friend who had made him returns for his

remittance.

"There will be a small matter to arrange with respect to Emilie," said

Madame Sendel in her blandest tones, and with affectation of

embarrassment. "She has an engagement at the Vienna theatre, which must

of course now be broken off. There is a forfeit to pay, no very heavy

sum," added she--

"Not a word about that," interrupted Van, whose blood curdled in his

veins, at the mere idea of cancelling the engagement on which his hopes

were built. "There is no hurry for a few days. Let me once call Emilie

mine, and I take charge of all those matters."

Emilie smiled angelically; Madame patted her considerate son-in-law on

the shoulders, and applied to her snuff-box to conceal her emotion; and

all matters of business being thus satisfactorily settled, the evening

closed in harmony and bliss.

"Are you for Frankfort, to-day?" said Van Haubitz, when he had concluded

his exulting narrative, and without giving me time for congratulations,

which I should have been at a loss to offer. "I am off, after breakfast,

to get some diamond earrings and other small matters for my adorable. I

shall be glad of your taste and opinion."

"Diamonds!" I exclaimed. "Farewell, then, to the thousand franc note--"

"Pooh! Nonsense! You don't suppose I throw away my last cash that way.

The Frankfort jewellers know me well, or think they do, which is the

same thing. They have seen enough of my coin since I have been at

Homburg. For them, as for my excellent mother-in-law, I am the wealthy

partner in the undoubted good firm of Van Haubitz, Krummwinkel, & Co. I

never told them so; if they choose to imagine it I am not to blame. My

credit is good. The diamonds shall be paid for--if paid for they must

be--out of Madame Van Haubitz's first quarter's salary."

I was meditating an excuse for not accompanying my pertinacious and

unscrupulous acquaintance on his cruise against the Frankfort

Israelites, when he resumed--

"By the bye," he said, "you will come to church with us. I have arranged

it all. Quite private, for reasons good. Nobody but yourself, Madame

Sendel, and Emilie. You shall act as father, and give away the bride."

The start I gave, at this alarming announcement, nearly broke the bed.

This was carrying things rather too far. Not satisfied with rendering

me, by his intrusive and unsolicited confidence, a sort of tacit

accomplice in his manoeuvres, this Dutch Gil Blas would fain make me an

active participator in the swindle he was practising on the actress and

her mother. I drew at sight on my imagination, quickened by the peril,

for a letter received the previous evening from a dear and near

relative who lay dangerously ill at Baden-Baden, and to whose sick-bed

it was absolutely necessary I should immediately repair; and, jumping

up, I began to dress in all haste, rang furiously for the bill and a

carriage, and requested Van Haubitz to present my excuses to the ladies,

my unexpected departure at that early hour depriving me of the pleasure

of taking leave of them. The Dutchman swore all manner of

_donderwetters_ and _sacraments_ that he was grieved at my departure,

trusted I should find my friend better, and be able to return to

Frankfort in time for the marriage, but did not press me to do so, and

in reality was too exhilarated by the success of his machinations to

care a straw about the matter. And saying he must go and write to

Amsterdam, he shook me by the hand and left the room, whistling in loud

and joyous key the burthen of a Dutch march. In less than an hour I was

on the road to Frankfort, and that evening I reached Heidelberg, where

some friends of mine had passed the summer. I expected to find them

still there, but they had left for Baden-Baden. Thither I pursued them,

and--as if it were a judgment on me for my white lie to the

Dutchman--arrived there the morrow of their departure. Baden was

thinning, and they had gone down stream: I must have passed them on the

Rhine. Having strong reasons to see them before they left Germany, I

followed upon their trail. But their movements were rapid and eccentric,

and after tracking them to one or two of the minor baths, the chase led

me back to Frankfort. Here I made sure to catch them, or resolved to

give up the hunt.

A week had been consumed in thus travelling to and fro. I had no great

fancy for returning to Frankfort, lest my friend the Dutchman should

still be there, and press his society upon me, of which, after his

recent revelations, I was any thing but ambitious. Upon the whole,

however, I thought it likely he would have departed. I knew he would

accelerate his marriage as much as possible; I had been nine days

absent, which gave him ample time to get over the ceremony and leave the

neighbourhood. By way of precaution I resolved to keep pretty close in

my hotel during the period of my stay, which was not to exceed one or

two days.

On arriving at the "White Swan," I found my friends were staying there,

but had driven over to Homburg. Unwilling to follow them, and risk

meeting my bug-bear, I awaited their return, which was to take place to

a late dinner. As usual, there was much bustle at the "Swan;" many

goings and comings, several carriages in the court-yard, others in the

street packing for departure, a throng of greedy _lohn-kutschers_, warm

waiters, and bearded couriers, hanging about the door, and running up

and down stairs. I entered the public room. It was past noon, and the

tables were laid for dinner, but there were only two persons in the

apartment, a gentleman and a lady. They stood at a window, outside of

which a handsome Vienna-made berline, with a count's coronet on the

panels, was getting ready for a journey. As I walked up the room, the

lady turned her head, and I was instantly struck by her resemblance to

Emilie Sendel. So strong was it that I for a moment thought I had fallen

in with the very persons I wished to avoid. A second glance convinced me

of error. The likeness was certainly startling, but there were many

points of difference. Age and stature were the same, so were the hair

and complexion, save that the former was less ruddy, the latter paler

than in the case of the buxom Emilie. And there were grace and

refinement about this person, far beyond any to which the Dutchman's

lady-love could pretend. The expression of the interesting features was

rather pensive than gay, and there was something classical in the arch

of the eyebrow and outline of the face. The lady was plainly but richly

attired in an elegant travelling dress, and had her hand upon the arm of

a tall and very handsome man, about forty years of age, of singularly

aristocratic but somewhat dissipated appearance. They were talking as I

entered, and a sentence or two of their conversation reached my ear.

They spoke French, with a scarcely perceptible foreign accent.

Curious to know who these persons were, I returned to the court of the

hotel, intending to question a waiter. It was first necessary to catch

one, not easy at that busy time of day; and after several fruitless

efforts to detain the jacketed gentry, I gave the attempt, and took my

station at the gateway. Scarcely had I done so, when a carriage drove up

at a rattling pace, a small spit of a boy in a smart green suit, and

with an ambiguous sort of coronet embroidered in silver on the front of

his cap, jumped off and opened the door, and there emerged from the

vehicle, to my infinite dismay, the inevitable Van Haubitz. Retreat was

impossible, for he saw me directly; and after handing out Madame Sendel

and her daughter, seized me vehemently by both hands.

"Delighted to see you!" he cried; "I wish you had been a day sooner. We

were married yesterday," he added in a hurried voice, drawing me aside.

"Have left Homburg, paid every thing _there_, and leave this to-morrow

for Heaven knows where. Explanations must come first, (here he made a

grimace) for my purse is low, and my mother-in-law makes projects that

would ruin Rothschild. Lucky you are here to back me. Come in."

I was fairly caught, and in a pretty dilemma. My first thought was to

knock down the Dutchman, and run for it, but reflection checked the

impulse. Stammering a confused congratulation to the bride and her

mother, and meditating an escape at all hazards, I allowed Madame Sendel

to hook herself on my arm, and lead me into the hotel in the wake of the

newly wedded pair, who made at once for the public room. A magnificent

courier, in a Hungarian dress, with beard, belt, and hunting-knife,

strode past us into the apartment.

"_Herr Graf_," said the man, addressing the distinguished looking

stranger, who had attracted my attention, "the horses are ready."

The Count and his companion turned at the announcement, and found

themselves face to face with our party. There was a general start and

exclamation from the three women. The strange lady turned very pale and

visibly trembled; Madame Van Haubitz gave a slight scream; her mother

flushed as red as the poppies in her head-dress, and hung like a log

upon my arm, glaring angrily at the strangers. For one moment all stood

still; Van Haubitz and I looked at each other in bewilderment. He was

evidently struck by the extraordinary resemblance I had noticed, and

which became more manifest, now the two ladies were seen together.

"Come, Ameline," said the Count, who alone preserved complete

self-possession. And he hurried his companion from the room. Madame

Sendel released my arm, and letting herself fall upon a chair with an

hysterical giggle, closed her eyes and seemed preparing for a

comfortable swoon. Her daughter hastened to her assistance and untied

her bonnet; Van Haubitz grasped a decanter of water and made an alarming

demonstration of emptying it upon the full-moon countenance of his

respectable mother-in-law. I was curious to see him do it, for I had

always had my doubts whether the dowager's colours were what is

technically termed "fast." My curiosity was not gratified. Whether from

apprehension of the remedy or from some other cause, I cannot say, but

Madame Sendel abandoned her faint, and after two or three grotesque

contortions of countenance, and a certain amount of winking and

blinking, was sufficiently recovered to take a huge pinch of snuff, and

ascend the stairs to a private room, with her daughter and son-in-law

for supporters, and half a score waiters and chamber-maids, whom her

hysterical symptoms had assembled, by way of a tail. Seeing her so well

guarded, I thought it unnecessary to add to the escort. As she left the

room, there was a clatter of hoofs outside, and looking through the

window, I saw the coroneted berline whirled rapidly away by four

vigorous posters. Just then the dinner-bell rang, and the obsequious

head-waiter, who with profound bows had assisted at the departure of the

travellers, bustled into the room.

"Who is the gentleman who has just left?" I inquired.

"His Excellency, Count J----," replied the man. It was the name of a

Hungarian nobleman of great wealth, and of reputation almost European

as one of the most fashionable and successful Lotharios of the

dissipated Austrian capital.

"And his companion?"

"The celebrated actress, Fraulein Sendel."

Had the cunning but unlucky Van Haubitz been a regular reader of the

_Theater Zeitung_, or Journal of the Theatres, he would have seen, in

the ensuing number to that whence he derived his information respecting

Mademoiselle Sendel's confirmed popularity and advantageous engagement

the following short but important paragraph:--

"Erratum.--In our yesterday's impression an error occurred, arising from

a similarity of names. It is Fraulein _Ameline_ Sendel who has concluded

with the Vienna theatre, an engagement equally advantageous to herself

and the manager. Her elder sister, Fraulein _Emilie_, continues the

engagement she has already held for two seasons, as a supernumerary

_soubrette_. The amount stated yesterday as her salary would still be

correct, with the abstraction of a zero. Talent does not always run in

families."

This good-natured paragraph, evidently from the pen of a sulky

sub-editor, smarting under a lashing for his blunder of the preceding

day, did not come to my knowledge till some time afterwards, so that the

waiter's reply to my question concerning Count J----'s travelling

companion perplexed me greatly, and plunged me into an ocean of

conjectures. In fact, my curiosity was so strongly roused, that instead

of availing myself of the absence of the Dutchman to escape from the

hotel, I sat down to dinner, resolved not to depart till I heard the

mystery explained. I had not long to wait. Dinner was just over, when I

received a message from Van Haubitz, who earnestly desired to see me. I

found him alone, seated at a table, his chin resting on his hand, anger,

shame, and mortification stamped upon his inflamed countenance. A

tumbler half full of water stood upon the table, beside a bottle of

smelling salts; and, upon entering, I was pretty sure I heard a sound of

sobbing from another room, which ceased, however, when I spoke. There

had evidently been a violent scene. Its cause was explained to me by Van

Haubitz, at first in rather a confused manner, for at each attempt to

detail the circumstances he interrupted himself by bursts of fury. Owing

to this, it was some time before I could arrive at a clear understanding

of the facts of the case. When I did, I could scarcely help feeling

sorry for the unfortunate schemer, although in truth he richly deserved

the disappointment he had met. Never was there a more glaring instance

of excess of cunning over-reaching itself,--for no deception had been

practised by Madame Sendel and her daughter. They doubtless gave

themselves credit for some cleverness and more good fortune in enticing

a rich banker with more ducats than brains, into their matrimonial nets;

and doubtless Fraulein Emile put on her best looks and gowns, her

sweetest smiles and most becoming bonnets, to lure the lion into the

toils. But neither mother nor daughter had for a moment imagined that

Van Haubitz took the latter for the celebrated and successful actress

whose name was known throughout Germany, whilst that of poor Emile,

whose talents were of the most humble order, had scarcely ever

penetrated beyond the wings and green-room of the theatre, where she

enacted unimportant characters for the modest remuneration of a hundred

florins a month. By no means proud of her position as all actress, which

appeared the more lowly when contrasted with her sister's brilliant

success, Emilie had seldom referred to things theatrical since her

acquaintance with Van Haubitz. On his part, the 'cute Dutchman,

conscious of his real motives and anxious to conceal them, abstained

from all direct reference to Mademoiselle Sendel's great talents and

their lucrative results, contenting himself with general compliments,

which passed current without being closely scanned. If he had never

heard either his wife or mother-in-law make mention of Ameline, it was

because they were on the worst possible terms with that young lady, who

had lived, nearly from the period of her first appearance upon the

boards, under the protection of the accomplished libertine, Count

J----, over whom she was said to exercise extraordinary influence. When

she formed this connexion, Madame Sendel, who--in spite of her suspicion

of paint and artificial floriculture--had very strict notions of

propriety, wrote her a letter of furious reproach, renounced her as her

daughter, and prohibited Emilie from holding any communication with her.

Emile, against whose virtue none had ever found aught to say,

sorrowfully obeyed; and, after two or three ineffectual attempts on the

part of Ameline to soften her mother's wrath, all communication ceased

between them. Their next meeting was that at which Van Haubitz and

myself were present. Its singularity, Madame Sendel's fainting fit, and

the resemblance between the sisters, brought on inquiries and an

explanation; and the Dutchman found, to his inexpressible disgust and

consternation, that he had encumbered himself with a wife he cared

nothing for, and a mother-in-law he detested, whose joint income was

largely stated at one hundred and fifty pounds sterling per annum. In

his first paroxysm of rage he taunted them with the mistake they had

made when they thought to secure the love-sick millionaire, proclaimed

himself in debt, disinherited, and a beggar; and, finally, by the

violence of his reproaches and maledictions, drove them trembling and

weeping from the room.

Van Haubitz had sent for me to implore my advice in his present

difficult position; but was so bewildered by passion and overwhelmed by

this sudden awakening from his dream of success and prosperity, that he

was hardly in a condition to listen to reason. His regrets were so

disgustingly selfish, his invectives against the innocent cause of his

disappointment so violent and unmerited, that I should have left him to

his fate and his own devices, had I not thought that my so doing would

make matters worse for the poor girl who had thus heedlessly linked

herself to a fortune-hunter. So I remained; after a while he became

calmer, and we talked over various plans for the future. By my

suggestion, Madame Sendel and her daughter were invited to the

conference. The old lady was sulky and frightened, and would hardly open

her lips; Emilie, on the other hand, made a more favourable impression

on me than she had ever previously done. I now saw, what I had not

before suspected, that she was really attached to Van Haubitz; hitherto,

I had taken her for a mere adventuress, speculating on his supposed

wealth. She spoke kindly and affectionately to him, smiled through the

tears brought to her eyes by his recent brutality, and evidently

trembled each time her mother spoke, lest she should vent a reproach or

refer to his heartless duplicity. She tried to speak confidently and

cheerfully of the future. They must go immediately to Vienna, she said;

there she would apply diligently to her profession; the manager had half

promised her an increase of salary after another year--she was sure she

should deserve it, and meanwhile Van Haubitz, with his abilities, could

not fail to find some lucrative employment. He must get rid of his

accent, she added with a smile, (he spoke a voluble but most execrable

jargon of mingled Dutch and German) and then he might go upon the stage,

where she was certain he would succeed. This last suggestion was made

timidly, as if she feared to hurt the pride of the scapegrace by

proposing such a plan. There was not a word or an accent of reproach in

all she said, and I heartily forgave the little coquetry, affectation,

and vulgarity I had formerly remarked in her, in consideration of the

intuitive delicacy and good feeling she now displayed. Truly, thought I,

it is humbling to us, the bearded and baser moiety of humankind, to

contrast our vile egotism with the beautiful self-devotion of woman, as

exhibited even in this poor actress.

Madame Sendel by no means acquiesced in her daughter's project. The

flesh-pots of Amsterdam had attractions for her, far superior to those

of a struggling and uncertain existence at Vienna. She evidently leaned

upon the hope of a reconciliation between Van Haubitz and his father,

and hinted pretty plainly at the effect that might be produced by a

personal interview with the obdurate banker. I could see she was

arranging matters in her queer old noddle upon the approved theatrical

principle, the penitent son and fascinating daughter-in-law throwing

themselves at the feet of the melting father, who, with handkerchief to

eyes, bestows on them a blubbering benediction and ample subsidy. To my

surprise Van Haubitz also seemed disposed to place hope in an appeal to

his father, perhaps as a drowning man clutches at a straw. He may have

thought that his marriage, imprudent as it was, would be taken as some

guarantee of future steadiness, or at least of abstinence from the

spendthrift courses which had hitherto destroyed all confidence in him.

He could hardly expect his union with a penniless actress to re-instate

him in his father's good graces; but he probably imagined he might

extract a small annuity, as a condition of living at a distance from the

friends he had disgraced. He asked me what I thought of the plan. I of

course did not dissuade him from its adoption, and upon the whole

thought it his best chance, for I really saw no other. After some

deliberation and discussion, he seemed nearly to have made up his mind,

when I was called away to my friends, who had returned from their

excursion.

I was getting into bed that night, when Van Haubitz knocked at my door,

and entered the room with a downcast and dejected air, very different

from his usual boisterous headlong manner.

"I am off to Holland," he said; "'tis my only chance, bad though it be."

"I sincerely wish you success," replied I. "In any case, do not despair;

something will turn up. You have friends in your own country, I have

heard you say. They will help you to occupation."

He shook his head.

"Good friends over a bottle and a dice-box," said he, "but useless at a

pinch like this. Pleasant fellows enough, but scamps like"--myself, he

was going to add, but did not. "I am come to say farewell," he

continued. "I must be off before day-break. I have debts in Frankfort,

and if my departure gets wind, I shall have a dozen duns on my back.

Misfortunes never come alone. As for paying, it is out of the question.

Amongst us we have only about enough money to reach Amsterdam. Once

there--_a la grace de Dieu!_ but I confess my hopes are small. Thanks

for your advice--and for your sympathy too, for I saw this morning you

were sorry for me, though you did not think I deserved pity. Well,

perhaps not. God bless you."

He was leaving the room, but returned.

"I think you said you should stay at Coblenz before returning to

England."

"I shall probably be there a few days towards the end of the month."

"Good. If I succeed, you shall hear from me. What is your address

there?"

"_Poste restante_ will find me," I replied, not very covetous of the

correspondence, and unwilling to give a more exact direction.

Van Haubitz nodded and left me. At breakfast the next morning I learned

that the Dutch baron, as the waiter styled him, had taken his departure

at peep of day.

The first days of October found me still at Coblenz, lingering amongst

the valleys and vineyards, and loath to exchange them for the autumnal

fogs and emptiness of London. Thither, however, I was compelled to

return; and I endeavoured to console myself for the necessity by

discovering that the green Rhine grew brown, the trees scant of leaves,

the evenings long and chilly. I had heard nothing of Van Haubitz, and

had ceased to think of him, when, walking out at dusk on the eve of the

day fixed for my departure, I suddenly encountered him. He had just

arrived by a steamboat coming up stream; his wife and mother-in-law were

with him, and they were about to enter a fifth-rate inn, which, two

months previously, he would have felt insulted if solicited to

patronise. I was shocked by the change that had taken place in all three

of them. In five weeks they had grown five years older. Emilie had lost

her freshness, her eye its sparkle; and the melancholy smile with which

she welcomed me made my heart ache. Madame Sendel's rotund checks had

collapsed, she looked cross and jaundiced, and more snuffy than ever.

Van Haubitz was thin and haggard, his hair and mustaches, formerly

glossy and well-trimmed, were ragged and neglected, his dress, once so

smart and carefully arranged, was soiled and slovenly. My imagination

furnished me with a rapid and vivid sketch of the anxieties and

disappointments and heart-burnings, which, more than any actual bodily

privations, had worked so great a change in so short a time. Van Haubitz

started on seeing me, and faltered in his pace, as if unwilling to enter

the shabby hotel in my presence. The hesitation was momentary. "Worse

quarters than we used to meet in," said he, with a bitter smile. "I will

not ask you into this dog-hole. Wait an instant, and I will walk with

you."

Badly as I thought of Van Haubitz, and indisposed as I was to keep up

any acquaintance with such an unprincipled adventurer, I had not the

heart, seeing him so miserable and down in the world, to turn my back

upon him at once. So I entered the hotel, and waited in the public room.

In a few minutes he reappeared with the two ladies, and we all four

strolled out in the direction of the Rhine. I did not ask the Dutchman

the result of his journey. It was unnecessary. His disheartened air and

general appearance told the tale of disappointment, of humiliating

petitions sternly rejected, of hopes fled and a cheerless future. He

kept silence the while we walked a hundred yards, and then, having left

his wife and mother-in-law out of ear-shot, abruptly began the tale of

his mishaps. As I conjectured, he had totally failed in his attempt to

mollify his father, who was furious at his temerity in appearing before

him, and whose rage redoubled when he heard of his ill-omened marriage.

Unfortunately for Van Haubitz, the jeweller and some other tradesmen at

Frankfort, so soon as they learned his departure, had forwarded their

accounts to the care of the Amsterdam firm; and, although his father had

not the remotest intention of paying them, he was incensed in the

extreme at the slur thus cast upon his house and name. In short, the

unlucky artilleryman at once saw he had no chance of a single kreuzer,

or of the slightest countenance from his father. His applications to his

brothers, and one or two to more distant relatives, were equally

unsuccessful. All were disgusted at his irregularities, angry at his

marriage, incredulous of his promises of reform; and, after passing a

miserable month in Amsterdam, he set out to accompany his wife to

Vienna, whither she was compelled to repair under pain of fine and

forfeiture of her engagement. Although living with rigid economy--on

bread and water, as Van Haubitz expressed it--their finances had been

utterly consumed by their stay in the expensive Dutch capital, and it

was only by disposing of every trinket and superfluity (and of

necessaries too, I feared, when I remembered the slender baggage that

came up with them from the boat) that they had procured the means of

travelling, in the cheapest and most humble manner, and with the

disheartening certainty of arriving penniless at Vienna. Van Haubitz

told me all this, and many other details, with an air of gloomy

despondency. He was hopeless, heart-broken, desperate; and certain

circumstances of his position, which by some would have been held an

alleviation, aggravated it in his eyes. He said little of his wife; but,

from what escaped him, I easily gathered that she had shown strength of

mind, good feeling and affection for him, and was willing to struggle by

his side for a scanty and hard-earned subsistence. His selfish cares and

irritable mood prevented his appreciating or returning her attachment,

and he looked upon her as a clog and an encumbrance, without which he

might again rise in the world. He had always entertained a confident

expectation of enriching himself by marriage; and this hope, which had

buoyed him up under many difficulties, was now gone. From something he

said I suspected he had sounded Emilie on the subject of a divorce, so

easily obtained in Germany, and that she had shown determined

opposition. She evidently possessed a firmness of character more than a

match for her husband's impetuosity and violence.

"I have one resource left," said Van Haubitz. "I have pondered over it

for the last two days, and have almost determined on its adoption."

"What is it?" I asked.

"If I decide upon it," he replied, "you shall shortly know. 'Tis a

desperate one enough."

We had insensibly slackened our pace, and, at this moment, the ladies

came up. Van Haubitz made a gesture, as of impatience at the

interruption.

"Wait for me here," he said, and walked away. Without speculating upon

the motive of his absence, I stood still, and entered into conversation

with the ladies. We were on the quay. The night was mild and calm, but

overcast and exceedingly dark. A few feet below us rolled the dark mass

of the Rhine, slightly swollen by recent rains. A light from an adjacent

window illuminated the spot, and cast a flickering gleam across the

water. Unwilling to refer to their misfortunes, I spoke to Emilie on

some general topic. But Madame Sendel was too full of her troubles to

tolerate any conversation that did not immediately relate to them, and

she broke in with a long history of grievances, of the hard-heartedness

of the Amsterdam relations, the cruelty of Emilie's position, her

son-in-law's helplessness, and various other matters, in a querulous

tone, and with frightful volubility. The poor daughter, I plainly saw,

winced under this infliction. I was waiting the smallest opening to

interrupt the indiscreet old lady, and revert to commonplace, when a

distant splash in the water reached my ears. The women also heard it,

and at the same instant a presentiment of evil came over us all. Madame

Sendel suddenly held her tongue and her breath; Emilie turned deadly

pale, and without saying a word, flew along the quay in the direction of

the sound. She had gone but a few yards when her strength failed her,

and she would have fallen but for my support. There was a shout, and a

noise of men running. Leaving Madame Van Haubitz to the care of her

mother, I ran swiftly along the river side, and soon reached a place

where the deep water moaned and surged against the perpendicular quay.

Here several men were assembled, talking hurriedly and pointing to the

river. Others each moment arrived, and two boats were hastily shoved off

from an adjacent landing-place.

"A man in the river," was the reply to my hasty inquiry.

It was so dark that I could not distinguish countenances close to me,

and at a very few yards even the outline of objects was scarcely to be

discerned. There were no houses close at hand, and some minutes elapsed

before lights were procured. At last several boats put off, with men

standing in the bows, holding torches and lanterns high in the air.

Meanwhile I had questioned the by-standers, but could get little

information; none as to the person to whom the accident had happened.

The man who had given the alarm, was returning from mooring his boat to

a neighbouring jetty, when he perceived a figure moving along the quay a

short distance in his front. The figure disappeared, a heavy splash

followed, and the boatman ran forward. He could see no one either on

shore or in the stream, but heard a sound as of one striking out and

struggling in the water. Having learned this much, I jumped into a boat

just then putting off, and bid the rowers pull down stream, keeping a

short distance from the quay. The current ran strong, and I doubted not

that the drowning man had been carried along by it. Two vigorous oarsmen

pulled till the blades bent, and the boat, aided by the stream, flew

through the water. A third man held a torch. I strained my eyes through

the darkness. Presently a small object floated within a few feet of the

boat, which was rapidly passing it. It shone in the torchlight. I struck

at it with a boat-hook, and brought it on board. It was a man's cap,

covered with oilskin, and I remembered Van Haubitz wore such a one.

Stripping off the cover, I beheld in officer's foraging cap, with a

grenade embroidered on its front. My doubts, slight before, were

entirely dissipated.

When the search, rendered almost hopeless by the extreme darkness and

power of the current, was at last abandoned, I hastened to the hotel,

and inquired for Madame Sendel. She came to me in a state of great

agitation. Van Haubitz had not returned, but she thought less of that

than of the state of her daughter, who, since recovering from a long

swoon, had been almost distracted with anxiety. She knew some one had

been drowned, and her mind misgave her it was her husband. The

foraging-cap, which Madame Sendel immediately recognised, removed all

uncertainty. The only hope remaining was, that Van Haubitz, although

carried rapidly away by the power of the current, had been able to

maintain himself on the surface, and had got ashore at some considerable

distance down the river, or had been picked up by a passing boat. But

this was a very feeble hope, and for my own part, and for more than one

reason, I placed no reliance on it. I left Madame Sendel to break the

painful intelligence to her daughter, and went home, promising to call

again in the morning.

As I had expected, nothing was heard of Van Haubitz, nor any vestige of

him found, save the foraging-cap I had picked up. Doubtless, the Rhine

had borne down his lifeless corpse to the country of his birth. The next

day Coblenz rang with the death of the unfortunate Dutchman. A stranger,

and unacquainted with the localities, he was supposed to have walked

over the quay by accident. I thought differently; and so I knew did

Madame Sendel and Emilie. I saw the former early the next day. She was

greatly cast down about her daughter, who had passed a sleepless night,

was very weak and suffering, but who nevertheless insisted on continuing

her journey the following morning.

"We must go," said her mother; "if we delay, Emilie loses her

engagement, and how can we both live on my poor jointure? Weeping will

not bring him back, were he worth it. To think of the misery he has

caused us!"

I ventured to hint an inquiry as to their means of prosecuting their

journey. The old lady understood the intention, and took it kindly. "But

she needed no assistance," she said; "Van Haubitz (and this confirmed

our strong suspicion of suicide) had given their little stock of money

into his wife's keeping only a few hours before his death."

That afternoon I left Coblenz for England.

* * * * *

On a certain Wednesday of the present year, after enjoying the excellent

acting of Bouffe in two of his best characters, I paused a moment to

speak to a friend in the crowded lobby of the St James's Theatre. Whilst

thus engaged, I became aware that I was an object of attention to two

persons, whom I had an indistinct notion of having seen before, but when

or where, or who they might be, I had not the remotest idea. One of them

was a comfortable-looking, middle-aged man, with a bald head, a smooth,

clean-shaven face, and an incipient ventral rotundity. His complexion

was clear and wholesome, his countenance good-humoured, his whole

appearance bespoke an existence free from care, nights of sound sleep,

and days of tranquil enjoyment. His face was too sleek to be very

expressive, but there was a shrewd, quick look in the eye, and I set him

down in my mind as a wealthy German merchant or manufacturer (some small

peculiarities of costume betrayed the foreigner) come to show London to

his wife--a well-favoured _Frau_, fat, fair, but some years short of

forty--who accompanied him, and who, as well as her better-half, seemed

to honour me with very particular notice. My confabulation over, I was

leaving the theatre, when a sleek soft hand was gently passed through my

arm. It was my friend the fat foreigner. I strained my eyes and my

memory, but in vain; I felt very puzzled, and doubtless looked so, for

he smiled, and advancing his head, whispered a name in my ear. It was

that of Van Haubitz.

I started, looked again, doubted, and was at last convinced. _Minus_

mustache and whisker, which were closely shaven, and half his hair, of

which the remainder was considerably grizzled; _plus_ a degree of

corpulence such as I should never have thought the slender lieutenant of

artillery capable of acquiring; his heated, sun-burnt complexion, and

dissipated look, exchanged for a fresh colour and benevolent placidity;

the Dutchman I had left on the Rhine stood beside me in the lobby of the

French theatre. I turned to the lady: she was less changed than her

companion, and now that I was upon the track, I recognised Emilie

Sendel. By this time we were in the street. Van Haubitz handed his wife

into a carriage.

"Come and sup with us," he said, "and I will explain."

I mechanically obeyed, and in less than three minutes, still tongue-tied

by astonishment, I alighted at the door of a fashionable hotel in a

street adjoining Piccadilly.

A few lines will convey to the reader the substance of the long

conversation which kept the resuscitated Dutchman and myself from our

beds for fully two hours after our unexpected meeting. I had been right

in supposing that he had thrown himself voluntarily into the river;

wrong in my belief that he meditated suicide. An excellent swimmer, he

had taken the water to get rid of his wife. He might certainly have

chosen a drier method, and have given her the slip in the night-time or

on the road; but she had shown, whenever he referred to the possibility

of their separation, such a determination to remain with him at all

risks and sacrifices, that he felt certain she would be after him as

soon as she discovered his absence. He had formed a wild scheme of

returning to Amsterdam, and haunting his family until, through mere

weariness and vexation, they supplied him with funds for all outfit to

Sumatra. There he trusted to redeem his fortunes, as he had heard that

others of no greater abilities or better character than himself had

already done. A more extravagant project was never formed, and indeed

all his acts, during the six weeks that followed his marriage, were more

or less eccentric and ill-judged. This he admitted, when relating them

to me, and probably would not have been sorry to place them to the score

of actual mental derangement. The only redeeming touch in his conduct,

at that, the blackest period of his life, was his leaving, as I have

already mentioned, what money he had to his wife and her mother,

reserving but a few florins for his own support.

With these in his pocket, he proposed proceeding on foot to Amsterdam.

After landing on the right bank of the Rhine, he walked the greater part

of the night, as the best means of drying his saturated garments. When

weariness at last compelled him to pause, it was not yet daylight, no

house was open, and he threw himself on some straw in a farm-yard. He

awoke in a high fever, the result of his immersion, of exposure and

fatigue, acting on a frame heated and weakened by anxiety and mental

suffering. He obtained shelter at the neighboring farm-house, whose

kind-hearted inhabitants carefully tended him for several weeks, during

which his life was more than once despaired of. His convalescence was

long, and not till the close of the year could he resume his journey

northwards, by short stages, chiefly on foot. Unfavourable as his

prospects were, his good star had not yet set. This very illness, as

occasioning a delay, was a stroke of good fortune. Had he at once

proceeded to Holland, his family, in hopes to get rid of him for ever,

would probably have given him the small sum he needed for an outfit to

the Indian Archipelago, and he would have sailed thither before the 31st

of December, on which day his father, a joyous liver, and confirmed

votary of Bacchus, eat and drank to such an extent to celebrate the exit

of the old year and commencement of the new, that he fell down, on his

way to his bed, in a thundering fit of apoplexy, and was a corpse before

morning. The day of his funeral, Van Haubitz, footsore and emaciated,

and reduced to his last pfenning, walked wearily into the city of

Amsterdam. There a great surprise awaited him.

"Your father had not disinherited you?" I exclaimed, when the Dutchman

made a momentary pause at this point of his narrative.

"He had left a will devising his entire property to my brothers, and not

even naming me. But a slight formality was omitted, which rendered the

document of no more value than the parchment it was drawn upon. The

signature was wanting. My father had the weakness, no uncommon one, of

disliking whatever reminded him of his mortality. He would have fancied

himself nearer his grave had he signed his will. And thus he had delayed

till it was too late. I found myself joint heir with my brothers. By far

the greater part of my father's large capital was embarked in his bank,

and in extensive financial operations, which it would have been

necessary to liquidate at considerable disadvantage, to operate the

partition prescribed by law. Seeing this, I proposed to my brothers to

admit me as partner in the firm, with the stipulation that I should have

no active share in its direction, until my knowledge of business and

steadiness of conduct gave them the requisite confidence in me. After

some deliberation they agreed to this; and three years later their

opinion of me had undergone such a change, that two of them retired to

estates in the country, leaving me the chief management of the concern."

"And Madame Van Haubitz; when did she rejoin you?"

"Immediately the change in my fortunes occurred. Reckless as I at that

time was, and utterly devoid of feeling as you must have thought me, I

could not remember without emotion the disinterested affection,

delicacy, and unselfishness she had exhibited on discovery of my real

circumstances. During my long illness I had had time to reflect, and

when I left my sick-bed in that rude but hospitable German farm-house,

it was as a penitent past offences, and with a strong resolution to

atone them. Within a week after my father's funeral, I was on my way to

Vienna, to fetch Emilie to the opulent home she had anticipated when she

married me. Her joy at seeing me was scarcely increased when she heard I

now really was the rich banker she had at first thought me."

"And Madame Sendel?"

"Returned to Amsterdam with us. There was good about the old lady, and

by purloining her artificials, limiting her snuff, and soaking her in

tea, she was made endurable enough. Until her death, which occurred a

couple of years ago, she passed her time alternately with us and her

younger daughter."

"She became reconciled to Mademoiselle, Ameline?"

"Ameline had been Countess J---- all the time. She was privately married.

For certain family reasons the Count had conditioned that their union

should for a while be kept secret. Seeing that her equivocal position

and her mother's displeasure preyed upon her health and spirits, he

declared his marriage. She left the stage to become a reigning beauty in

the best society of Austria, lady of half a dozen castles, and sovereign

mistress of as many thousand Hungarian boors."

Van Haubitz remained some time in London, and I saw him often. He was as

much changed in character as in personal appearance. The sharp lessons

received, about the period of our first acquaintance, had made a strong

impression on him; and the summer-tide of prosperity suddenly setting

in, had enabled him to realise good intentions and honourable resolves,

which the chill current of adversity might have frozen in the germ. Some

of those who read these lines may have occasion, when visiting the

country stigmatised by the snarling Frenchman as the land of _canards_,

_canaux_, and _canaille_, to receive cash in the busy counting-house,

and hospitality the princely mansion of one of its most respected

bankers. None, I am well assured, will discern in their amiable and

exemplary entertainer any vestige of the disreputable impulses and evil

passions that sullied the early life of "My Friend the Dutchman."

* * * * *

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._