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A long…drawn snore was all that followed this affecting climax。
The baron was asleep； the retainers were also asleep。 Only one
pair of eyes remained open；arch； luminous； blue；Wilhelmina's。
〃There is a subterranean passage below us to Linn。 Let us fly！〃
she whispered。
〃But why？〃
〃They always do it in the legends；〃 she murmured modestly。
〃But your father？〃
〃He sleeps。 Do you not hear him？〃
Certainly somebody was snoring。 But； oddly enough； it seemed to be
Wilhelmina。 Mr。 Clinch suggested this to her。
〃Fool； it is yourself！〃
Mr。 Clinch； struck with the idea； stopped to consider。 She was
right。 It certainly WAS himself。
With a struggle he awoke。 The sun was shining。 The maiden was
looking at him。 But the castlethe castle was gone！
〃You have slept well；〃 said the maiden archly。 〃Everybody does
after dinner at Sammtstadt。 Father has just awakened； and is
coming。〃
Mr。 Clinch stared at the maiden； at the terrace； at the sky； at the
distant chimneys of Sammtstadt； at the more distant Rhine； at the
table before him； and finally at the empty glass。 The maiden
smiled。 〃Tell me；〃 said Mr。 Clinch； looking in her eyes； 〃is there
a secret passage underground between this place and the Castle of
Linn？〃
〃An underground passage？〃
〃Aywhence the daughter of the house fled with a stranger knight。〃
〃They say there is；〃 said the maiden； with a gentle blush。
〃Can you show it to me？〃
She hesitated。 〃Papa is coming： I'll ask him。〃
I presume she did。 At least the Herr Consul at Sammtstadt informs
me of a marriage…certificate issued to one Clinch of Chicago； and
Kolnische of Koln； and there is an amusing story extant in the
Verein at Sammtstadt； of an American connoisseur of Rhine wines；
who mistook a flask of Cognac and rock…candy； used for 〃craftily
qualifying〃 lower grades of wine to the American standard； for the
rarest Rudesheimerberg。
VIEWS FROM A GERMAN SPION
Outside of my window； two narrow perpendicular mirrors； parallel
with the casement； project into the street； yet with a certain
unobtrusiveness of angle that enables them to reflect the people
who pass； without any reciprocal disclosure of their own。 The men
and women hurrying by not only do not know they are observed； but；
what is worse； do not even see their own reflection in this
hypocritical plane； and are consequently unable； through its aid；
to correct any carelessness of garb； gait； or demeanor。 At first
this seems to be taking an unfair advantage of the human animal；
who invariably assumes an attitude when he is conscious of being
under human focus。 But I observe that my neighbors' windows； right
and left； have a similar apparatus； that this custom is evidently a
local one； and the locality is German。 Being an American stranger；
I am quite willing to leave the morality of the transaction with
the locality； and adapt myself to the custom： indeed； I had thought
of offering it； figuratively； as an excuse for any unfairness of
observation I might make in these pages。 But my German mirrors
reflect without prejudice； selection； or comment； and the American
eye； I fear； is but mortal； and like all mortal eyes； figuratively
as well as in that literal fact noted by an eminent scientific
authority； infinitely inferior to the work of the best German
opticians。
And this leads me to my first observation； namely； that a majority
of those who pass my mirror have weak eyes； and have already
invoked the aid of the optician。 Why are these people； physically
in all else so much stronger than my countrymen； deficient in
eyesight？ Or； to omit the passing testimony of my Spion； and take
my own personal experience； why does my young friend Max； brightest
of all schoolboys； who already wears the cap that denotes the
highest class；why does he shock me by suddenly drawing forth a
pair of spectacles； that upon his fresh； rosy face would be an
obvious mocking imitation of the Herr Papaif German children
could ever； by any possibility； be irreverent？ Or why does the
Fraulein Marie； his sister； pink as Aurora； round as Hebe； suddenly
veil her blue eyes with a golden lorgnette in the midst of our
polyglot conversation？ Is it to evade the direct； admiring glance
of the impulsive American？ Dare I say NO？ Dare I say that that
frank； clear； honest； earnest return of the eye； which has on the
Continent most unfairly brought my fair countrywomen under
criticism； is quite as common to her more carefully…guarded；
tradition…hedged German sisters？ No； it is not that。 Is it any
thing in these emerald and opal tinted skies； which seem so unreal
to the American eye； and for the first time explain what seemed the
unreality of German art？ in these mysterious yet restful Rhine
fogs； which prolong the twilight； and hang the curtain of romance
even over mid…day？ Surely not。 Is it not rather； O Herr Professor
profound in analogy and philosophy！is it not rather this
abominable black…letter； this elsewhere…discarded； uncouth； slowly…
decaying text known as the German Alphabet； that plucks out the
bright eyes of youth； and bristles the gateways of your language
with a chevaux de frise of splintered rubbish？ Why must I hesitate
whether it is an accident of the printer's press； or the poor
quality of the paper； that makes this letter a 〃k〃 or a 〃t〃？ Why
must I halt in an emotion or a thought because 〃s〃 and 〃f〃 are so
nearly alike？ Is it not enough that I； an impulsive American；
accustomed to do a thing first； and reflect upon it afterwards；
must grope my way through a blind alley of substantives and
adjectives； only to find the verb of action in an obscure corner；
without ruining my eyesight in the groping？
But I dismiss these abstract reflections for a fresh and active
resentment。 This is the fifth or sixth dog that has passed my
Spion； harnessed to a small barrow…like cart； and tugging painfully
at a burden so ludicrously disproportionate to his size； that it
would seem a burlesque； but for the poor dog's sad sincerity。
Perhaps it is because I have the barbarian's fondness for dogs； and
for their lawless； gentle； loving uselessness； that I rebel against
this unnatural servitude。 It seems as monstrous as if a child were
put between the shafts； and made to carry burdens； and I have come
to regard those men and women； who in the weakest perfunctory way
affect to aid the poor brute by laying idle hands on the barrow
behind； as I would unnatural parents。 Pegasus harnessed to the
Thracian herdsman's plough was no more of a desecration。 I fancy
the poor dog seems to feel the monstrosity of the performance； and；
in sheer shame for his master； forgivingly tries to assume it is
PLAY； and I have seen a little 〃colley〃 running along； barking； and
endeavoring to leap and gambol in the shafts； before a load that
any one out of this locality would have thought the direst cruelty。
Nor do the older or more powerful dogs seem to become accustomed to
it。 When his cruel taskmaster halts with his wares； instantly the
dog； either by sitting down in his harness； or crawling over the
shafts； or by some unmistakable dog…like trick； utterly scatters
any such delusion of even the habit of servitude。 The few of his
race who do not work in this ducal city seem to have lost their
democratic canine sympathies； and look upon him with something of
that indifferent calm with which yonder officer eyes the road…
mender in the ditch below him。 He loses even the characteristics
of species。 The common cur and mastiff look alike in harness。 The
burden levels all distinctions。 I have said that he was generally
sincere in his efforts。 I recall but one instance to the contrary。
I remember a young colley who first attracted my attention by his
persistent barking。 Whether he did this； as the plough…boy
whistled； 〃for want of thought；〃 or whether it was a running
protest against his occupation； I could not determine； until one
day I noticed； that； in barking； he slightly threw up his neck and
shoulders； and that the two…wheeled barrow…like vehicle behind him；
having its weight evenly poised on the wheels by the trucks in the
hands of its driver； enabled him by t