Wilhelm's cousin, Joachim, had arrived from Paris. We remember the young officer, out of whose letters Wilhelm had sent Otto a description of the struggle of the July days. As an inspired hero of liberty had he returned; struggling Poland had excited his lively interest, and he would willingly have combated in Warsaw's ranks. His mind and his eloquence made him doubly interesting. The combat of the July days, of which he had been an eye-witness, he described to them. Joachim was handsome; he had an elegant countenance with sharp features, and was certainly rather pale--one might perhaps have called him worn with dissipation, had it not been for the brightness of his eyes, which increased in conversation. The fine dark eyebrow, and even the little mustache, gave the countenance all expression which reminded one of fine English steel-engravings. His figure was small, almost slender, but the proportions were beautiful. The animation of the Frenchman expressed itself in every motion, but at the same time there was in him a certain determination which seemed to say: "I am aware of my own intellectual superiority!"

 

He interested every one: Otto also listened with pleasure when Cousin Joachim related his experiences, but when all eyes were turned toward the narrator, Otto fixed his suddenly upon Sophie, and found that she could moderate his attentions. Joachim addressed his discourse to all, but at the points of interest his glance rested alone on the pretty cousin! "She interests him!" said Otto to himself. "And Cousin Joachim?" Yes, he relates well; but had we only traveled we should not be inferior to him!"

 

"Charles X. was a Jesuit!" said Joachim; "he strove after an unrestrained despotism, and laid violent hands on the Charter. The expedition against Algiers was only a glittering fire-work arranged to flatter the national pride--all glitter and falseness! Like Peirronnet, through an embrace he would annihilate the Charter."

 

The conversation now turned from the Jesuits to the Charter and Polignac. The minute particulars, which only an eyewitness can relate, brought the struggle livingly before their eyes. They saw the last night, the extraordinary activity in the squares where the balls were showered, and in the streets where the barricades were erected. Overturned wagons and carts, barrels and stones, were heaped upon each other--even the hundred year-old trees of the Boulevards were cut down to form barricades: the struggle began, Frenchman fought against Frenchman--for liberty and country they sacrificed their life.

 

[Note:

"Ceux qui pieusement sont morts pour la patrie

Ont droit qu'a leur cerceuil la foule vienne et prie:

Entre le plus beaux noms, leur nom est le plus beau.

Toute gloire, pres d'eux, passe et tombe ephemere

Et, comme ferait une mere,

La voix d'un peuple entier les berce en leur tombeau!"

--VICTOR HUGO.]

 

 

And he described the victory and Louis Philippe, whom he admired and loved.

 

"That was a world event," said the man of business. "It electrified both king and people. They still feel the movement. Last year was an extraordinary year!"

 

"For the Copenhageners also," said Otto, "there were three colors. These things occupied the multitude with equal interest: the July Revolution, the 'Letters of a Wandering Ghost,' and Kellermann's 'Berlin Wit.'"

 

"Now you are bitter, Mr. Thostrup," said the lady of the house. "The really educated did not occupy themselves with these Berlin 'Eckensteher' which the multitude have rendered national!"

 

"But they hit the right mark!" said Otto; "they met with a reception from the citizens and people in office."

 

"That I can easily believe," remarked Joachim; "that is like the people here!"

 

"That is like the people abroad!" said the hostess. "In Paris they pass over still more easily from a revolution, in which they themselves have taken part, to a review by Jules Janin, or to a new step of Taglioni's, and from that to 'une histoire scandaleuse!'"

 

"No, my gracious lady, of the last no one takes any notice--it belongs to the order of the day!"

 

"That I can easily believe!" said Miss Sophie.

 

The man of business now inquired after the Chamber. The cousin's answer was quite satisfactory. The lady of the house wished to hear of the flower-markets, and of the sweet little inclosed gardens in the Places. Sophie wished to hear of Victor Hugo. She received a description of him, of his abode in the Place Royale, and of the whole Europe litteraire beside. Cousin Joachim was extremely interesting.

 

Otto did not pay another visit for two days.

 

"Where have you been for so long?" asked Sophie, when he came again.

 

"With my books!" replied he: there lay a gloomy expression in his eyes.

 

"O, you should have come half an hour earlier--our cousin was here! He was describing to me the Jardin des Plantes in Paris. O, quite excellently!"

 

"He is an interesting young man!" said Otto.

 

"The glorious garden!" pursued Sophie, without remarking the emphasis with which Otto had replied. "Do you not remember, Mr. Thostrup, how Barthelemi has spoken of it?

 

 

'Ou tout homme, qui reve a son pays absent,

Retrouve ses parfums et son air caressant.'

 

In it there is a whole avenue with cages, in which are wild beasts,--lions and tigers! In small court-yards, elephants and buffaloes wander about at liberty! Giraffes nibble the branches of high trees! In the middle of the garden are the courts for bears, only there is a sort of well in which the bears walk about; it is surrounded by no palisades, and you stand upon the precipitous edge! There our cousin stood!"

 

"But he did not precipitate himself down!" said Otto, with indifference.

 

"What is the matter?" asked Sophie. "Are you in your elegiac mood? You look as I imagine Victor Hugo when he has not made up his mind about the management of his tragic catastrophe!"

 

"That is my innate singularity!" replied Otto. "I should have pleasure in springing down among the bears of which you relate!"

 

"And in dying?" asked Sophie. "No, you must live.

 

 

'C'est le bonheur de vivre

Qui fait la gloire de mourir.'"

 

 

"You speak a deal of French to-day," said Otto, with a friendliness of manner intended to soften the bitterness of the tone. "Perhaps your conversation with the lieutenant was in that language?"

 

"French interests me the most!" replied she. "I will ask our cousin to speak it often with me. His accent is excellent, and he is himself a very interesting man!"

 ............