Her voice was a little tremulous, but very low and rich. For some reason
or other, on getting back to the inn, I countermanded the horses, and
said I would stay for the night.

I not only stayed that night, but many, many afterwards; and as for the
manner in which I became acquainted with the Speck family, why it was
a good joke against me at the time, and I did not like then to have
it known; but now it may as well come out at once. Speck, as everybody
knows, lives in the market-place, opposite his grand work of art, the
town pump, or fountain. I bought a large sheet of paper, and having a
knack at drawing, sat down, with the greatest gravity, before the pump,
and sketched it for several hours. I knew it would bring out old Speck
to see. At first he contented himself by flattening his nose against the
window-glasses of his study, and looking what the Englander was about.
Then he put on his gray cap with the huge green shade, and sauntered
to the door: then he walked round me, and formed one of a band of
street-idlers who were looking on: then at last he could restrain
himself no more, but, pulling off his cap, with a low bow, began to
discourse upon arts, and architecture in particular.

"It is curious," says he, "that you have taken the same view of which a
print has been engraved."

"That IS extraordinary," says I (though it wasn't, for I had traced my
drawing at a window off the very print in question). I added that I was,
like all the world, immensely struck with the beauty of the edifice;
heard of it at Rome, where it was considered to be superior to any of
the celebrated fountains of that capital of the fine arts; finally,
that unless perhaps the celebrated fountain of Aldgate in London