"No, sir, not with any cynic in a tub, but with a maiden in her
flower. It was one of the best points I made with Miss Ashburton."

"The Alt-Schloss is indeed a picturesque construction," said the
diplomate, by way of generally inviting my confidence.

"We were conversing about the poems of Salis and Matthisson," I
pursued. "I had in my pocket a little translation of Salis's song
entitled 'The Silent Land,' and endeavored to bend the dialogue in
a suitable direction, but these allusions are incredibly hard to
introduce in conversation, and we happened to stray upon Baden-Baden.
I asked Miss Ashburton if she had been here, and she answered, 'Yes,
the last summer.' 'And you have not forgotten?' I suggested--'The
old castle,' she rejoined. 'Of course not. What a magnificent ruin it
is!'"

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE ALT-SCHLOSS.]

"What tact your friend displayed," said Berkley, "to feign utter
unconsciousness of the green tables, and see nothing but ruins in
Baden-Baden!"

"Permit me to say," I replied quickly, "that it is not agreeable to
me to have that lady alluded to, however distantly, in connection with
gambling-tables. The Ashburtons had been probably drinking the waters,
for her mother was noticeably stout and florid. But to continue with
the poets. I explained to her that the ruins of the Alt-Schloss had
suggested to Matthisson a poem in imitation of an English masterpiece.
Matthisson made a study of Gray's 'Elegy,' and from it produced his