lustre of his light elegant spectacles, and something discreet and
diplomatic in the curve of his moustache, which looked as if it
might well contribute to the principal function, as cynics say, of
the lips--the active concealment of thought. He had been appointed
to the secretaryship of the German legation at Washington and in
these first days of the autumn was about to take possession of his
post. He was a model character for such a purpose--serious civil
ceremonious curious stiff, stuffed with knowledge and convinced
that, as lately rearranged, the German Empire places in the most
striking light the highest of all the possibilities of the greatest
of all the peoples. He was quite aware, however, of the claims to
economic and other consideration of the United States, and that this
quarter of the globe offered a vast field for study.

The process of inquiry had already begun for him, in spite of his
having as yet spoken to none of his fellow-passengers; the case
being that Vogelstein inquired not only with his tongue, but with
his eyes--that is with his spectacles--with his ears, with his nose,
with his palate, with all his senses and organs. He was a highly
upright young man, whose only fault was that his sense of comedy, or
of the humour of things, had never been specifically disengaged from
his several other senses. He vaguely felt that something should be
done about this, and in a general manner proposed to do it, for he
was on his way to explore a society abounding in comic aspects.
This consciousness of a missing measure gave him a certain mistrust
of what might be said of him; and if circumspection is the essence
of diplomacy our young aspirant promised well. His mind contained
several millions of facts, packed too closely together for the light
breeze of the imagination to draw through the mass. He was
impatient to report himself to his superior in Washington, and the