of the Danube, and we sat engrossed--I in the charm of the scene, and
Frederick in that of individual beauties who passed to and fro.

Suddenly I noticed that he was staring intently upon the ground a few
yards in front of him. I asked him what was the matter.

"Perceive," he replied in a very serious tone, "a small beetle of the
order of Coleoptera making its way across the pavement?"

"I do perceive it," I replied; "but what about it?"

"Does it not occur to you," he continued, "that it is a very
remarkable thing that that beetle should have already travelled six
feet across the most crowded promenade in Buda-Pesth without having
been trodden on?"

Being used to Frederick I do not take him too seriously and made no
reply, intending to brush the incident aside, but I found my gaze
continually returning to Coleopteron, conscious of that peculiar
fascination which attracts one to impending tragedy. It was evident
that he had just left the café and was hurrying across the promenade
to catch the little steamer which was due to leave in ten minutes for
Ofen. It was also evident to any thinking individual that there must
be some extraordinarily urgent reason for his wishing to catch the
boat which justified him in taking the awful risks which he was
incurring. The position was full of human interest and I became as
intrigued as Frederick.

It seemed that Coleopteron was under some divine protection which
enabled him to elude so large a crowd. One lady stepped right on him,