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I am inclined to think that this sentiment was echoed heartily by
Mrs。 Rightbody's former acquaintances； when； a year later； Miss
Alice was united to a professional gentleman of honor and renown；
yet who was known to be the son of a convicted horse…thief。 A few
remembered the previous Californian story； and found corroboration
therefor； but a majority believed it a just reward to Miss Alice
for her conduct to Mr。 Marvin； and； as Miss Alice cheerfully
accepted it in that light； I do not see why I may not end my story
with happiness to all concerned。
A LEGEND OF SAMMTSTADT。
It was the sacred hour of noon at Sammtstadt。 Everybody was at
dinner； and the serious Kellner of 〃Der Wildemann〃 glanced in mild
reproach at Mr。 James Clinch； who； disregarding that fact and the
invitatory table d'hote； stepped into the street。 For Mr。 Clinch
had eaten a late breakfast at Gladbach； was dyspeptic and American；
and； moveover； preoccupied with business。 He was consequently
indignant； on entering the garden…like court and cloister…like
counting…house of 〃Von Becheret； Sons； Uncles； and Cousins；〃 to
find the comptoir deserted even by the porter； and was furious at
the maidservant； who offered the sacred shibboleth 〃Mittagsessen〃
as a reasonable explanation of the solitude。 〃A country；〃 said Mr。
Clinch to himself； 〃that stops business at mid…day to go to dinner；
and employs women…servants to talk to business…men； is played out。〃
He stepped from the silent building into the equally silent
Kronprinzen Strasse。 Not a soul to be seen anywhere。 Rows on rows
of two…storied； gray…stuccoed buildings that might be dwellings； or
might be offices； all showing some traces of feminine taste and
supervision in a flower or a curtain that belied the legended
〃Comptoir；〃 or 〃Direction；〃 over their portals。 Mr。 Clinch thought
of Boston and State Street； of New York and Wall Street； and became
coldly contemptuous。
Yet there was clearly nothing to do but to walk down the formal
rows of chestnuts that lined the broad Strasse； and then walk back
again。 At the corner of the first cross…street he was struck with
the fact that two men who were standing in front of a dwelling…
house appeared to be as inconsistent； and out of proportion to the
silent houses； as were the actors on a stage to the painted canvas
thoroughfares before which they strutted。 Mr。 Clinch usually had
no fancies； had no eye for quaintness； besides； this was not a
quaint nor romantic district； only an entrepot for silks and
velvets； and Mr。 Clinch was here； not as a tourist； but as a
purchaser。 The guidebooks had ignored Sammtstadt； and he was too
good an American to waste time in looking up uncatalogued
curiosities。 Besides； he had been here once before；an entire
day！
One o'clock。 Still a full hour and a half before his friend would
return to business。 What should he do？ The Verein where he had
once been entertained was deserted even by its waiters； the garden；
with its ostentatious out…of…door tables； looked bleak and bare。
Mr。 Clinch was not artistic in his tastes； but even he was quick to
detect the affront put upon Nature by this continental； theatrical
gardening； and turned disgustedly away。 Born near a 〃lake〃 larger
than the German Ocean； he resented a pool of water twenty…five feet
in diameter under that alluring title； and； a frequenter of the
Adirondacks； he could scarce contain himself over a bit of rock…
work twelve feet high。 〃A country；〃 said Mr。 Clinch； 〃that〃 but
here he remembered that he had once seen in a park in his native
city an imitation of the Drachenfels in plaster； on a scale of two
inches to the foot； and checked his speech。
He turned into the principal allee of the town。 There was a long
white building at one end；the Bahnhof： at the other end he
remembered a dye…house。 He had； a year ago； met its hospitable
proprietor： he would call upon him now。
But the same solitude confronted him as he passed the porter's
lodge beside the gateway。 The counting…house； half villa； half
factory； must have convoked its humanity in some out…of…the…way
refectory； for the halls and passages were tenantless。 For the
first time he began to be impressed with a certain foreign
quaintness in the surroundings； he found himself also recalling
something he had read when a boy； about an enchanted palace whose
inhabitants awoke on the arrival of a long…predestined Prince。 To
assure himself of the absolute ridiculousness of this fancy； he
took from his pocket the business…card of its proprietor； a sample
of dye； and recalled his own personality in a letter of credit。
Having dismissed this idea from his mind； he lounged on again
through a rustic lane that might have led to a farmhouse； yet was
still； absurdly enough； a part of the factory gardens。 Crossing a
ditch by a causeway； he presently came to another ditch and another
causeway； and then found himself idly contemplating a massive； ivy…
clad； venerable brick wall。 As a mere wall it might not have
attracted his attention； but it seemed to enter and bury itself at
right angles in the side…wall of a quite modern…looking dwelling。
After satisfying himself of this fact； he passed on before the
dwelling； but was amazed to see the wall reappear on the other side
exactly the sameold； ivy…grown； sturdy； uncompromising； and
ridiculous。
Could it actually be a part of the house？ He turned back； and
repassed the front of the building。 The entrance door was
hospitably open。 There was a hall and a staircase； butby all
that was preposterous！they were built OVER and AROUND the central
brick intrusion。 The wall actually ran through the house！ 〃A
country；〃 said Mr。 Clinch to himself； 〃where they build their
houses over ruins to accommodate them； or save the trouble of
removal； is；〃 but a very pleasant voice addressing him here
stopped his usual hasty conclusion。
〃Guten Morgen！〃
Mr。 Clinch looked hastily up。 Leaning on the parapet of what
appeared to be a garden on the roof of the house was a young girl；
red…cheeked； bright…eyed； blond…haired。 The voice was soft；
subdued； and mellow； it was part of the new impression he was
receiving； that it seemed to be in some sort connected with the
ivy…clad wall before him。 His hat was in his hand as he answered；
〃Guten Morgen！〃
〃Was the Herr seeking anything？〃
〃The Herr was only waiting a longtime…coming friend； and had
strayed here to speak with the before…known proprietor。〃
〃So？ But； the before…known proprietor sleeping well at present
after dinner； would the Herr on the terrace still a while linger？〃
The Herr would； but looked around in vain for the means to do it。
He was thinking of a scaling…ladder； when the young woman
reappeared at the open door； and bade him enter。
Following the youthful hostess； Mr。 Clinch mounted the staircase；
but； passing the mysterious wall； could not forbear an allusion to
it。 〃It is old； very old；〃 said the girl： 〃it was here when I
came。〃
〃That was not very long ago；〃 said Mr。 Clinch gallantly。
〃No； but my grandfather found it here too。〃
〃And built over it？〃
〃Why not？ It is very； very hard； and SO thick。〃
Mr。 Clinch here explained； with masculine superiority； the
existence of such modern agents as nitro…glycerine and dynamite；
persuasive in their effects upon time…honored obstructions and
encumbrances。
〃But there was not then what you callthisninitro…glycerine。〃
〃But since then？〃
The young girl gazed at him in troubled surprise。 〃My great…
grandfather did not take it away when he built the house： why
should we？〃
〃Oh！〃
They had passed through a hall and dining…room； and suddenly
stepped out of a window upon a gravelled terrace。 From this a few
stone steps descended to another terrace； on which trees and shrubs
were growing； and yet； looking over the parapet； Mr。 Clinch could
see the road some twenty feet below。 It was nearly on a level
with； and part of； the second story of the house。 Had an
earthquake lifted the adjacent ground？ or had the house burrowed
into a hill？ Mr。 Clinch turned to his companion； who was standing
close beside him； breathing quite audibly； and leaving an