cherish the thoughts of that Annihilation which is the worthy reward of us all.  Unfortunate!  He had been unfortunate once.  Well, that was not so bad as life goes.  And what the devil could be the nature of that misfortune?  I remembered that I had known a man before who had declared himself to have fallen, years ago, a victim to misfortune; but this misfortune, whose effects appeared permanent (he looked desperately hard up) when considered dispassionately, seemed indistinguishable from a breach of trust.  Could it be something of that nature?  Apart, however, from the utter improbability that he would offer to talk of it even to his future uncle-in-law, I had a strange feeling that Falk’s physique unfitted him for that sort of delinquency.  As the person of Hermann’s niece exhaled the profound physical charm of feminine form, so her adorer’s big frame embodied to my senses the hard, straight masculinity that would conceivably kill but would not condescend to cheat.  The thing was obvious.  I might just as well have suspected the girl of a curvature of the spine.  And I perceived that the sun was about to set.

The smoke of Falk’s tug hove in sight, far away at the mouth of the river.  It was time for me to assume the character of an ambassador, and the negotiation would not be difficult except in the matter of keeping my countenance.  It was all too extravagantly nonsensical, and I conceived that it would be best to compose for myself a grave demeanour.  I practised this in my boat as I went along, but the bashfulness that came secretly upon me the moment I stepped on the deck of the Diana is inexplicable.  As soon as we had exchanged greetings Hermann asked me eagerly if I knew whether Falk had found his white parasol.

“He’s going to bring it to you himself directly,” I said with great solemnity.  “Meantime I am charged with an important message for which he begs your favourable consideration.  He is in love with your niece. . . .”

“Ach So!” he hissed with an animosity that made my assumed gravity change into the most genuine concern.  What meant this tone?  And I hurried on.

“He wishes, with your consent of course, to ask her to marry him at once—­before you leave here, that is.  He would speak to the Consul.”

Hermann sat down and smoked violently.  Five minutes passed in that furious meditation, and then, taking the long pipe out of his mouth, he burst into a hot diatribe against Falk—­against his cupidity, his stupidity (a fellow that can hardly be got to say “yes” or “no” to the simplest question)—­against his outrageous treatment of the shipping in port (because he saw they were at his mercy)—­and against his manner of walking, which to his (Hermann’s) mind showed a conceit positively unbearable.  The damage to the old Diana was not forgotten, of course, and there was nothing of any nature said or done by Falk (even to the last offer of refreshment in the hotel) that did not seem to have been a cause of offence.  “Had the cheek” to drag him (Hermann) into that coffee-room; as though a drink from him could make up for forty-seven dollars and fifty cents of damage in the cost of wood alone—­not counting two days’ work for the carpenter.  Of course he would not stand in the girl’s way.  He was going home to Germany.  There were plenty of poor girls walking about in Germany.