“A celebrated German writer,” lisped the modest Miss Macdonald.
“I never heard his name,” persevered the indefatigable Boreall; “how do you spell it?”
“GOETHE,” re-lisped modesty.
“Oh! Goty!” exclaimed the querist. “I know him well: he wrote the Sorrows of Werter.”
“Did he indeed, sir?” asked Vivian, with the most innocent and inquiring face.
“Oh! don’t you know that?” said Boreall, “and poor stuff it is!”
“Lord Alhambra! I will take a glass of Johannisberg with you, if the Marquess’ wines are in the state they should be:
The Crescent warriors sipped their sherbet spiced,
For Christian men the various wines were iced.
I always think that those are two of the best lines in your Lordship’s poem,” said Vivian.
His Lordship did not exactly remember them: it would have been a wonder if he had: but he thought Vivian Grey the most delightful fellow he ever met, and determined to ask him to Helicon Castle for the Christmas holidays.