information so hard and Leonora was listening so intently that no
one noticed me. As for me, I was pleased to be off duty; I was
pleased to think that Florence for the moment was indubitably out
of mischief--because she was talking about Ludwig the
Courageous (I think it was Ludwig the Courageous but I am not an
historian) about Ludwig the Courageous of Hessen who wanted to
have three wives at once and patronized Luther--something like
that!--I was so relieved to be off duty, because she couldn't
possibly be doing anything to excite herself or set her poor heart
a-fluttering--that the incident of the cow was a real joy to me. I
chuckled over it from time to time for the whole rest of the day.
Because it does look very funny, you know, to see a black and
white cow land on its back in the middle of a stream. It is so just
exactly what one doesn't expect of a cow.

I suppose I ought to have pitied the poor animal; but I just didn't. I
was out for enjoyment. And I just enjoyed myself. It is so pleasant
to be drawn along in front of the spectacular towns with the
peaked castles and the many double spires. In the sunlight gleams
come from the city--gleams from the glass of windows; from the
gilt signs of apothecaries; from the ensigns of the student corps
high up in the mountains; from the helmets of the funny little
soldiers moving their stiff little legs in white linen trousers. And it
was pleasant to get out in the great big spectacular Prussian station
with the hammered bronze ornaments and the paintings of
peasants and flowers and cows; and to hear Florence bargain
energetically with the driver of an ancient droschka drawn by two
lean horses. Of course, I spoke German much more correctly than
Florence, though I never could rid myself quite of the accent of
the Pennsylvania Duitsch of my childhood. Anyhow, we were