troduced to her as Count somebody, a Bohemian Grandee, and asked him what gala-day this was, that such a magnificent banquet should have been prepared. The Count replied that there was nothing more than usual; a mere little supper to a few friends who had dropped in. The Countess was astonished that, neither in Breslau, nor elsewhere, had she ever heard of a man so opulent and hospitable as Lord Giantdale. Nor, ransack as she might the genealogical trees of all the noble families her memory was stored with, could she recal any mention of such a name.
She indirectly endeavoured to obtain from her host himself the information she so much desired; but he evaded all her attempts with such consummate address that she could not accomplish her object. She therefore gave up the point, and turned the conversation to the airy subject of the world of spirits, and when this theme is once started in company, there are never wanting talkers to support it, nor listeners with eyes and mouths wide open.
A well-fed canon related a number of marvellous stories about Rubezahl, and a great deal was said for and against the truth of these narratives. The Countess, who was quite in her element whenever she could assume a doctoral tone, did not fail to put herself at the head of the philosophical party, and was very great on the subject of vulgar superstitions and prejudices; she was especially severe upon a counsellor
