"Why, Seraphael, you are dreaming. There are no such equipages in all Vienna as your father's and mother's."
"They are not mine, you see; and if I drove such, I should look like a sparrow in a hencoop. Oh, Carlomein, what quantities of sparrows there are in London! Do they live upon the smuts?"
At this instant the carriage, whose driver André had beckoned to draw up, approached; and then we both ran to fetch Aronach, who came out very grumbling, for the entry in the long book was scarcely dry; and he saluted nobody, but marched after us like a person suddenly wound up, putting himself heavily into the carriage, which he did not notice in the least. It was an open carriage, Paris-built (as I now know), and so luxuriously lined as not to be very fit for an expedition in any but halcyon weather. As for Seraphael, he flung himself upon the seat as a cowslip ball upon the grass, and scarcely shook the light springs; and as I followed him, he made a profound bow to the owner of the equipage, who, disconsolately enough, still stood within the porch.
"Now, I do enjoy this, Carlomein! I cannot help loving to be saucy to André,—good, excellent, and wonderful as he is."
I looked to find whether he was in earnest. But I could not tell, for his eyes were grave, and the lips at rest. But Aronach gave a growl, though mildly,—as the lion might growl in the day when a little child shall lead him.
"You have not conquered that weakness yet, and, I prophesy, never will."
"What weakness, master?" But he faltered, even as a little child.
"To excuse fools and fondle slaves."
"Oh, my master, do not scold me!" and he covered his eyes with his little blue-veined hands. "It is so sad to be a fool or a slave that we should do all for such we can do, especially if we are not so ourselves. I think myself right there."
His pleading tone here modulated into the still authority I had noticed once or twice, and Aronach gave a smile in reply, which was the motion of the raptured look I had noticed during the improvisation.