belonged to the society.  Fredersdorf was resolved to fathom this mystery; he wished to buy himself free from his service to the king, and wed the woman he had long so passionately loved.  Kleist was riotous and a spendthrift; he felt that gold alone would enable him to buy smiles and rapture from this worn-out and wearisome world.  Kleist and his beautiful wife required money in large measure; she had been a faithful companion and aid—­had stood by honestly and assisted in the waste of her own property; and now they were compelled to confine themselves to the small income of captain of the king’s guard.

Joseph laughed, chatted, and jested with his young companion, who walked by his side with modest and downcast eyes.  Joseph sometimes put his hand merrily under the dimpled chins of the rosy servant-girls who passed them from time to time, or peeped rather impertinently under the silk hoods of the burgher maidens; his companion blushed and took no part in these bold pastimes.

“Truly,” said Joseph, “if I did not have in my pocket a letter from my former room-mate at Halle, introducing you as a manly, brave boy, and a future light in the world of science, I should suspect you were a disguised maiden; you blush like a girl, and are as timid as a lamb which has never left its mother’s side.”

“I am a villager, a poor provincial,” said the youth, in a somewhat maidenly voice.  “The manners of your great city embarrass me.  I admire but cannot imitate them.  I have been always a recluse, a dusty book-worm.”

“A learned monster!” cried Joseph, mockingly, “who knows and understands every thing except the art of enjoying life.  I acknowledge that you are greatly my superior, but I can instruct you in that science.  You have been so strongly commended to me that I will at once commence to unfold to you the real, satisfying duties and pleasures of life.”

“I fear,” said the youth. “your science is beyond my ability.  I have no organ for it.  My father is a celebrated physician in Quedlinburg; he would be greatly distressed if I should occupy myself with any thing else than philosophy and the arts.  I myself have so little inclination and so little ability for the enjoyment of mirth and pleasure, that I dare not exchange the world of books for the world of men.  I do not understand their speech, and their manners are strange to me.”

“But, without doubt, you have come to Berlin to learn something of these things?”

“No, I have come to visit the medical college, and to speak with the learned and renowned Euler.”

“Folly and nonsense!” said Fredersdorf, laughing; “keep your dry pursuits for Halle, and give your time and attention to that which you cannot find there, gayety and amusement.  I promise to be your counsellor and comrade.  Let us begin our studies at once.  Do you see that little theatre-bill fastened to the wall?  Eckhof appears as Cato to-night.”

“Go to the theatre!” said Lupinus, shrinkingly.  “How!  I go to the theatre?”