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But after a good deal of questioning, it turned out that Melchior Bosswinkel meant certain lacquered tea-trays, stove-shades, and things of that sort, which he saw and much admired in a shop-window as he went to business of a morning, after two or three sardines and a glass of Dantziger at the Sala Tarone. These productions constituted his highest ideal of the pictorial art.
The idea of entering the matrimonial estate, particularly with so youthful a lady, was more than he could quite see his way to. He told the Commissionsrath at once that he had made up his mind to marry Albertine, and as Bosswinkel immediately embraced him in the character of his son-in-law, he, very naturally, considered himself engaged to her.
No gold Fredericks for your trouble? Not even the expense of your paints and canvas?" Edmund laughingly said all that was too insignificant to be taken into account. "But," Bosswinkel said, "I'm afraid you don't know that I'm thinking of having a three-quarters length life-size." "It doesn't matter in the slightest," the painter answered.
I thumped on the window; I cried out, 'Dearest Miss Bosswinkel, what are you doing? What sort of goings-on are those, here, at this time of the night? But just as I was saying so, there came some horrible beast of a fellow down King Street, pulled my legs away from under me as he passed, and ran away from me, with them, in peals of laughter.
Bosswinkel ran up and down the room like a lunatic, crying over and over again, "It's all over with me; I am a miserable man, a ruined Commissionsrath. O Lord, if I only could get the girl off my shoulders; the devil take the whole lot of them, Lehsen, and Benjie, and my old Tussmann into the bargain." "Now," said the Goldsmith, "there is one way of getting out of all this mess."
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