FRANZ MÜLLER'S WIFE.


"Franz, good morning. Whose philosophy is it now? Hegel, Spinosa, Kant
or Dugald Stewart?"

"None of them. I am reading _Faust_."

"Worse and worse. Better wrestle with philosophies than lose yourself in
the clouds. At any rate, if the poets are to send the philosophers to
the right about, stick to Shakespeare."

"He is too material. He can't get rid of men and women."

"They are a little better, I should think, than Mephisto. Come, Franz,
condescend to cravats and kid gloves, and let us go and see my cousin
Christine Stromberg."

"I do not know the young lady."

"Of course not. She has just returned from a Munich school. Her brother
Max was at the Lyndons' great party, you remember?"

"I don't remember, Louis. In white cravats and black coats all men look
alike."

"But you will go?"