Hamilton drove off. He found Crescenz not only waiting for him, but with her head stretched far out of the window, watching for his arrival. She ran to meet him, exclaiming, “How good-natured of you to come on so short a notice, and so early too! Blazius is not dressed—he is so lazy in the morning—he never gets up until past six! We shall not wait breakfast for him, however. Which cup do you choose?”
“I don’t know,” said Hamilton, thoughtfully. “This is the largest, but that is the prettiest—I think I must have both, first this and afterwards that one.”
Crescenz laughed; and between the history of her cups, and a discussion about her new half-mourning, the time passed until her husband made his appearance to eat a hearty breakfast, for he was quite as anxious as Hamilton to leave Munich early, he so very much disliked both heat and dust. They called for Madame Berger: she was dressed in the very extreme of fashion, and bounded lightly up to the seat beside Hamilton.
“Let me see how your horses can step out,” she cried, while leaning back to offer Crescenz her little, tightly gloved hand.
Hamilton was quite willing to gratify her, his horses ready to second him; at that early hour the road was but little encumbered by carts or carriages, and past the few they met the phaeton rolled with a velocity that made Madame Berger laugh so heartily, that poor Crescenz’s stifled screams were for some time inaudible. At length Major Stultz spoke: “Mr. Hamilton, may I beg of you to drive a little slower—Crescenz’s nerves are not in a state to bear——”
“Why, good gracious, Crescenz!” exclaimed Madame Berger, “you don’t mean to say you are frightened? Mr. Hamilton drives so well that there is not the slightest danger.”
“Oh, no; I dare say not,” said Crescenz.
“I should not be afraid,” continued Madame Berger, “if it were night, and pitch dark into the bargain!”
“How very courageous!” observed Crescenz, timidly.
In the meantime, Hamilton endeavoured to “draw in his flowing reins,” but——