“Out of the public gardens he got fairly turned at last, because he would talk politics to some strange gentlemen on a bench. They got up and walked away, but, five minutes afterwards, a very odd-looking man looked over Franz’s shoulder, and said significantly, ‘I recommend you to leave these gardens, sir, and walk elsewhere.’ And poor Franz, who had heard of such things as prisons and dungeons for political offenders, felt a cold shudder run through him, and took himself off with all possible speed, not daring to look behind him, for fear he should see that dreadful man at his heels. Indeed, he never felt safe till he was in his bed-room again, and had got the waiter to come and talk to him.
“‘Dear me,’ said the waiter, ‘what a very silly young gentleman you must be, to go talking away without being asked!’
“‘But,’ said Franz, ‘you don’t consider what a superior education I have had. I can talk and make myself heard—’
“‘Oh, pooh! bother talking,’ interrupted the waiter; ‘what’s the use of talking when nobody wants to listen? Much better go to bed.’
“Franz would not give in yet, but was comforted to find the waiter did not think he would be thrown into prisons and dungeons; so he dined, and dressed, and went to the theatre to console himself, where however he made himself heard so effectually—first applauding, then hissing, and even speaking his opinions to the people round him—that a set of young college students combined together to get rid of him, and, I am sorry to add, they made use of a little kicking as the surest plan; and so, before half the play was over, Mr. Franz found himself in the street!
“Now, then, I have told you enough of Mr. Franz’s follies, except the one last adventure, which made him alter his whole plan of proceeding.
“He had had two letters of introduction to take with him: one to an old partner of his father’s, who had settled in the capital some years before; another to some people of more consequence, very distant family connections. And, of course, Mr. Franz went there first, as there seemed a nice chance of making his fortune among such great folks.
“And really the great folks would have been civil enough, but that he soon spoilt everything by what he called ‘making himself agreeable.’ He was too polite, too affectionate, too talkative, too instructive, by half! He assured the young ladies that he approved very highly of their singing; trilled out a little song of his own, unasked, at his first visit; fondled the pet lap-dog on his knee; congratulated papa on looking wonderfully well for his age; asked mamma if she had tried the last new spectacles; and, in short, gave his opinions, and advice, and information, so freely, that as soon as he was gone the whole party exclaimed:—
“‘What an impertinent jackanapes!’ a jackanapes being nothing more nor less than a human monkey.
“This went on for some time, for he called very often, being too stupid, in spite of his supposed cleverness, to take the hints that were thrown out, that such repeated visits were not wanted.