“I intend to drive Crescenz myself in a sledge,” said Major Stultz; “I take it for granted she will enjoy it as much with me as with Mr. Hamilton.”
Crescenz bent her head over her work, and said not a word.
A heavy fall of snow during the night, and a clear blue sky the next day, proved most propitious; and after dinner the sledge was brought to the door. Madame Rosenberg and her son Gustle were carefully assisted by Hamilton into the light fantastic vehicle, while Hans, not unnecessarily, held the horses’ heads. No sooner were the spirited animals released than they bounded forward with a vehemence which caused Madame Rosenberg to utter an only half-suppressed scream, while the child, participating in his mother’s alarm, seized Hamilton’s arm, and clung to it with all his strength. One of the horses reared dangerously. “Gustle, you must not touch my arm or the reins!” cried Hamilton, shaking him off. “They will be quiet in a moment,” he added to Madame Rosenberg, who had closed her eyes and compressed her lips as if prepared for the worst; but notwithstanding all his endeavours, the horses pranced and danced and bounded, to the great admiration of the passers-by, while poor Madame Rosenberg sat in a sort of agony. She did not speak a word until they had reached the Nymphenburg road, but there every sledge they met increased her terrors, and at length she spoke—“Oh, dear, good, excellent Mr. Hamilton—turn back and take me home again—I know you are too good-natured to enjoy my anxiety—if it were only for Gustle’s sake, see——Oh!——Ah! The child is frightened to death almost, and no wonder! I declare if I had not come out in my slippers I would walk home—oh, pray stop—turn—before we meet that sledge coming towards us. When your horses hear the bells of the other sledges, they get quite wild! Dear, kind Mr. Hamilton, I shall love you all my life if you will only take us home again.”
Gustle, shocked by his mother’s unwonted humility of manner, and imagining himself in the most imminent danger, commenced roaring with all his might, and Hamilton turned his horses, while assuring Madame Rosenberg they were the gentlest animals in the world, and it was only the fine weather that had put them in spirits.
On their return they found a respectable-looking hackney coach placed on a sledge waiting at the door. Crescenz, her little brother Peppy, and Major Stultz were preparing to enter it.
“I will go with you,” cried Madame Rosenberg, joining them, “Gustle must not lose his drive—Mr. Hamilton’s horses are much too wild for me!”
“I thought as much,” said Major Stultz, with evident satisfaction.
“Am I permitted to ask Mademoiselle Hildegarde to go with me?” asked Hamilton.
“Yes, but you must tell her how your horses have frightened me, and you must promise to drive on the Nymphenburg road where we can see you, and you must not go farther than the palace, and back again.”
“Agreed,” said Hamilton.