To please this whimsical little creature, Thaddeus turned to the letter, and read it forward with a pathos natural to his voice and character. When he came to an end and closed the volume, the cadence of his tones, and the lady's memory, did ample justice to her sensibility. She looked up, and smiling through her watery eyes, which glittered like violets wet with dew, drew out her perfumed handkerchief, and wiping them, said—
"I thank you, Mr. Constantine. You see by this irrepressible emotion that I feel Goethe, and did not ask you a vain favor."
Thaddeus bowed, for he was at a loss to guess what kind of a reply could be expected by so strange a creature.
She continued—
"You are a German, Mr. Constantine. Did you ever see Charlotte?"
"Never, madam."
"I am sorry for that; I should have liked to have heard what sort of a beauty she was. But don't you think she behaved cruelly to Werter? Perhaps you knew him?"
"No, madam; this lamentable story happened before I was born."
"How unhappy for him! I am sure you would have made the most charming friends in the world! Have you a friend, Mr. Constantine."
The count looked at her with surprise. She laughed at the expression of his countenance.