"Obstinate fellow! you will explain nothing! But the portrait, the face, the five letters—your mystery is useless—the secret is out—the stranger is—Scott!"
"Scott!" cried Alexis, greatly surprised. "How do you know that?"
"Enough! I know it. 'Tis the Great Unknown! Shame on you, Alexis, to try to deceive your uncle! Tell the great man, with whom you, unworthy that you are, have been so fortunate as to make acquaintance, that his incognito shall be respected, as surely as I bear an English heart in my bosom. By the rood, shall it! For all Miffelstein he shall be the Unknown. But I crave his good leave to celebrate his coming."
"I will answer for his making no objection," replied Alexis, who apparently struggled with some inward emotion, for his voice was tremulous, his face very red, and his eyes were steadfastly fixed on the toes of his boots.
"Answer for yourself, Sir Architect!" said his uncle, somewhat sharply. Then, in a lower and confidential tone, "Where is the immortal genius?" he inquired.
"If I mistake not," replied Alexis, "I see him yonder, eating curds and pumpernickel."
"Ah, the great man!" ejaculated Wirtig; "to condescend to food so unworthy of his illustrious jaws. And see, he is about to fire off the mortar! Engaging familiarity! Boom! The loudest report to-day! The piece is mine, though it cost me a thousand florins! It shall be christened Walter Scott!"
"Hush, hush!" interposed Alexis; "if you go on in this way, the incognito will be in danger. And he himself must not perceive that you—"
"True!" interrupted the excited Wirtig, clapping his hand on his lips. "Ah, could I but speak Gaelic, or even English, the better to commune with the inspired bard! But he has translated Goetz von Berlichingen, so must understand the pure German of Miffelstein. But now tell me, Alexis, in strict confidence, how comes the first of the world's poets in our poor village? Has he, perchance, heard of the Bear of Bradwardine, and of his faithful clansman, John Jacob Wirtig? Or does he seek subject for a new romance, and propose to place his hero at Miffelstein, as he conducted Durward to Plessis-les-Tours, and the brave knight Kenneth to Palestine?"
"Neither the one nor the other, my dear uncle, unfortunately for us," replied Alexis thoughtfully, and pausing between his sentences. "Trusting to your discretion, and to convince you of its necessity, I will not conceal from you that a great peril has brought the Author of Waverley to Miffelstein. You must know that he has just published an historical romance, in which, availing himself of the novelist's license, he has represented Charlemagne and Henry the Fourth of France vanquished in single combat by William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. A French general, taking offence at this, has insisted upon his retracting the statement, or fighting a duel with blunderbusses at six paces. Of course a man of honour cannot retract—"