a fancied sympathy? There are no folk like our own folk, after all; and
there is truly a great gulf between Scandinavians and every other kind
of people. But it seemed to Claudius that he loved the Germans and their
ways--and indeed he did; but does not everyday experience show that the
people we admire, and even love, the most are not necessarily those with
whom we are most in sympathy or with whom it is best for us to live? He
would have been better among his own Northern people; but that did not
strike him, and he determined he would go to the Engadine to-morrow or
next day.

The Doctor, having made up his mind, shifted his position and sat up,
pulling a pipe from his pocket, which he proceeded to fill and to light.
The flame of the match was white and transparent in the mid-day glare,
and the smoke hung lazily about as he puffed at the ungainly instrument
of enjoyment.

Before he had half finished his pipe he heard footsteps on the path. He
looked up idly and saw a lady--_two_ ladies--coming leisurely towards
him. Beyond the fact that it was an unusual hour for strangers to visit
the Schloss--and they evidently were strangers--there was nothing
unusual in the apparition; and Claudius merely rose to his feet and
moved slowly on, not from any desire to get out of the way, but merely
because he was too well bred to remain seated by the path while a lady
passed, and having risen, he could not very well stand still. So he
moved on till he stood by the broken tower, and seeing that by climbing
down he could reach a more secure resting-place, with the advantage of a
view, he let himself drop easily on to a projecting ledge of masonry and
resumed his pipe with philosophic indifference. Before long he heard
voices above him, or more properly a voice, for one of the parties
confined her conversation strictly to yea and nay, while the other spoke