"Not so very complicated as you imagine. Enough, the noble gentleman and the noble damsel, who soon became a noble lady, had a villa, which was called Paradise--why should not a villa be called Paradise, Cloten?"
"Nevertheless, very curious name."
"Why? Does not one call his place Solitude, another Sans Souci, and still another Bellevue--why should not one of them have called his Paradise? Eh bien! The nobleman's servant was called Adam. Good name for a man-servant. When he became old and stiff, they called him old Adam--have you ever heard of a noble who was called Adam, Cloten?"
"Never in my life."
"You see there is the best proof at once. He called his servant Adam, and his wife's chambermaid Eve--little Evy, very nice name for a maid. My mother had a charming little maid, and her name was Evy. But Adam was a bad fellow, just as our servants nowadays are bad fellows. And Eva was no better. At last the old gentleman took his riding-whip and drove both from the place. In their deportment-book he wrote: Dismissed on account of dishonesty, fondness of dress, and laziness. That is the story, of course only in the outline."
"Really, very remarkable, quite famous! 'pon honor! Did you bring the book home with you, baron?"
"No; but an authenticated copy, endorsed by the justice of the peace of the place."
"Are there justices of the peace out there?"
"But, my dear friend, how could there be a country and no justices?"
"To be sure. Still, it would be better if we had the book itself."