and sat down beside Cornelius, who was busily engaged filling his pipe.
"What's wrong with Christina to-night?" he asked, pointing to her room.
"Oh, it's the storm," replied Balthazar; "women are so timid!"
"If it were otherwise, we would be deprived of the pleasure of protecting them as we would children—especially Christina, who is anything but strong. I really can't look at her without crying; she is so frail, so delicate!"
"Oh, ho, master Cornelius!" exclaimed Balthazar, with a knowing smile; "you are almost as enthusiastic over Christina as you were over the lightning a little while ago!"
Cornelius blushed to the very roots of his hair as he replied: "Oh, it's not the same kind of enthusiasm, however!"
"I suppose not!" remarked Balthazar with a hearty laugh. Then, taking Cornelius by the hand and looking him square in the face, he added: "Come now, you don't imagine that I can't see what is going on? You don't only amuse yourself at flying your kite over the Amstel, overgrown boy that you are, but you also play at racquets with Christina, and your two hearts answer the place of shuttlecocks."
"What, you suppose that—" muttered the savant, evidently confused.
"For over three months I have known that it
