“No, Monsieur Goefle,” said the child, with a triumphant air. “See, I have buttoned my gaiters nicely.”
“A little crooked; but it’s done, at any rate; and now I suppose you will go and rest yourself until night?”
“Oh no, Monsieur Goefle: I want something to eat; I am very hungry; it has kept me from sleeping well for an hour at least.”
“There,” said M. Goefle to Christian, “you see what manner of serving-man my housekeeper provided me with! At present, I shall leave him under your charge. Make him obey you, if you can; for my part, I have quite given up trying. Come, Ulph, go on; I’ll come after you. Well, what’s the matter? what is it?”
“They brought a letter for you a little while ago,” answered Ulphilas, whose ideas became more luminous in proportion as the sun ascended towards the zenith, “and I put it in my pocket, and had forgotten—”
“To give it to me? Too true! You see, Christian, how well you are waited upon at Stollborg.”
M. Goefle opened the letter, and read as follows, interrupting himself at every sentence to make comments in French:
“‘My dear advocate—’
“I know that handwriting! It’s the Countess Elveda! A great coquette. The Russian party in petticoats!
“‘Let me see you before any one else. I know the baron expects you at noon. Have the goodness to leave Stollborg a little early, and come to my room. I want to talk to you about some matters of importance—’