There lived in Hort at this time a wealthy and pretty widow, Mrs.
Zoe Barkany by name, originally Sarah Samuel. From her, Kalimann
would get his novels and classical literature; these he bound in
pale blues and greens and brilliant scarlets, ornamenting them with
a golden lyre, surmounted with an arrow-pierced heart. He worked
upon these bindings con amore, and, transported by his love of the
aesthetic, would occasionally give vent to his enthusiasm, and
venture observations bordering upon the chivalrous. In each and
every heroine of the plays and romances he devoured, he could see
the captivating face and figure of Mrs. Barkany.

Entering the fair widow's garden one morning, and discovering her
seated on a rustic bench, dressed in white, a guitar in her hand, he
exclaimed, with a reverential bow: "Ah, mon Dieu, there sits
Princess Eboli!" (the heroine in "Don Carlos"). Another time seeing
her in a. morning gown of Turkish stuff, he declared she must be
sitting for the picture of Rebecca in "Ivanhoe." In short, Mrs.
Barkany very soon learned to anticipate her bookbinder's speeches,
and would say, with a pretty smile: "Well, am I Esmeralda to-day?"
or, "I wager that I am reminding you of the Duchess; tell me, am I
right or not?"

Binding works on jurisprudence for the notary, he developed his
philosophy of law; returning some volumes to the village doctor, he
surprised that worthy by launching forth with enthusiasm into a
disquisition on medicine; and dropping in one fine day at Professor
Gambert's,--the pensioned schoolmaster,--he proved himself no mean
adversary in a discussion upon natural history. He invariably
approached a subject with a refreshing originality, and on one
occasion maintained with an obstinacy born of conviction that the