'I questioned you of English ladies,' she resumed, 'because we read your writings of us. Your kindness to us is that which passes from nurse to infant; your criticism reminds one of paedagogue and urchin. You make us sorry for our manners and habits, if they are so bad; but most of all you are merry at our simplicity. Not only we say what we feel, we display it. Now, I am so German, this offence is especially mine.'
I touched her horse's neck, and said, 'I have not seen it.'
'Yet you understand me. You know me well. How is that?'
The murmur of honest confession came from me: 'I have seen it!'
She laughed. 'I bring you to be German, you see. Could you forsake your England?'
'Instantly, though not willingly.'
'Not regrettingly?'
'Cheerfully, if I had my work and my—my friend.'
'No; but well I know a man's field of labour is his country. You have your ambition.'
'Yes, now I have.'