Klingenspohr her husband."

"He with the cut across the nose, is it?" cries Blake. "I know him well,
and his old wife."

"His old what, sir!" cries Fitz-Boodle, jumping up from his seat.
"Klingenspohr's wife old!--is he married again?--Is Dorothea, then,
d-d-dead?"

"Dead!--no more dead than you are, only I take her to be
five-and-thirty. And when a woman has had nine children, you know,
she looks none the younger; and I can tell ye that when she trod on my
corruns at a ball at the Grand Juke's, I felt something heavier than a
feather on my foot."

"Madame de Klingenspohr, then," replied I, hesitating somewhat, "has
grown rather--rather st-st-out?" I could hardly get out the OUT, and
trembled I don't know why as I asked the question.

"Stout, begad!--she weighs fourteen stone, saddle and bridle. That's
right, down goes my pipe; flop! crash falls the tumbler into the fender!
Break away, my boy, and remember, whoever breaks a glass here pays a
dozen."

The fact was, that the announcement of Dorothea's changed condition
caused no small disturbance within me, and I expressed it in the abrupt
manner mentioned by young Blake.

Roused thus from my reverie, I questioned the young fellow about his
residence at Kalbsbraten, which has been always since the war a favorite