In place of frigid politeness, however, the diplomatist wore all
that he knew of good-fellowship and Bohemianism. He was now clad
in tourists' plaid, and stood upon soles half an inch thick--a true
Englishman on his travels.

"Come, old boy!"--old boy, indeed!--"you must taste the pleasures of
Baden-Baden: it is but four o'clock, and we can see the Trinkhalle,
the Conversations-Haus, and plenty besides before dinner. Is there any
place in particular where you would like to go?"

[Illustration: THE WOOD-PATH.]

I looked solemnly at him. "I would fain visit the Alt-Schloss," I
said.

"With all my heart!" replied Sylvester, tapping his legs and admiring
his boots. This unpromising comrade was wearing better than I
expected.

[Illustration: SCENE OF MATTHISSON'S POEM IMITATING GRAY'S "ELEGY."]

"Shall we have a carriage?" he pursued. At this question my face
contracted as by the effect of a nervous attack. I thought of the few
pence I possessed. I assumed the determined pedestrian.

"For shame!" I cried: "it is but three miles. Where are your tourist
muscles? I should like to walk."

"Nothing simpler," said the man of facile views: "we shall do it