rolled, was trying to exhale itself between his lips.

"What a genius for conversation you have to-day, my Flemming! This
hour I have rocked back and forth in bed, trying to understand your
observations or to cover my ears and go to rest. Your tongue has been
like the tongue of a monastery-bell summoning all hands to penance."
But I had hardly spoken ten consecutive words. The ears of the baron
were this morning quite muffled, I think, with the abundance of his
hair, which he had evidently been dressing with an avalanche of soap
and water, for the topknot was as harsh and tight as a felt. He had
lemon-blossoms on his lappel and lemon kids on his fists.

It was then I remembered that my bags were all in the steamer, where
I had left them when surprised by Charles's indisposition. My tin box
would possibly yield me a button-nosegay, but otherwise I might beat
my breast, like the wedding-guest in the _Ancient Mariner_, for I
heard the summons and was unable to attend in right attire. "We two
must take you out in the street and dress you," said Hohenfels.

Although I had never been dressed in the street, I yielded. It was a
grand public holiday, and the sounds of festivity, which had floated
into my chamber with the entrance of Hohenfels, were in full cadence
outside. Everybody was pouring out to the city-gate, or returning from
thence, where, in honor of some visit from the king of the Belgians
and count and countess of Flanders, a festival was going on in
imitation or rehearsal of the grand annual _kermesse_. These
festivals, retained in Belgium with a delightful fidelity to the
customs of antique Brabant, would fit the brush of Teniers better
than the pen of a mere bewildered tourist. Still, I will try, copying
principally from the reports of Charles (who contrives to peep at