Will you?”
“If zat is ze only vay—yes, mit pleasure! Who is ze man?”
“Young Tulliwuddle. Do you remember going to a dance at Lord Tulliwuddle's, some five and a half years ago?”
“Himmel! Ha, ha! Vell do I remember!”
“Well, our host of that evening died the other day, and this fellow is his heir—a second or third cousin whose existence was so displeasing to the old peer that he left him absolutely nothing that wasn't entailed, and never said 'How-do-you-do?' to him in his life. In consequence, he may not entertain you as much as I should like.”
“If he is your friend, I shall moch enjoy his society!”
“I am flattered, but hardly convinced. Tulliwuddle's intellect is scarcely of the sparkling kind. However, come and try.”
The hour, the place, were arranged; a reminiscence or two exchanged; fresh suggestions thrown out for the rejuvenation of a Bavarian magnate; another baronial laugh shook the foundations of the club; and then, as the afternoon was wearing on, the Baron hailed a cab and galloped for Belgrave Square, and the late Mr. Bunker sauntered off along Pall Mall.
“Who can despair of human nature while the Baron von Blitzenberg adorns the earth?” he reflected. “The discovery of champagne and the invention of summer holidays were minor events compared with his descent from Olympus!”
He bought a button-hole at the street corner and cocked his hat, more airily than ever.
“A volcanic eruption may inspire one to succor humanity, a wedding to condole with it, and a general election to warn it of its folly; but the Baron inspires one to amuse!”
Meanwhile that Heaven-sent nobleman, with a manner enshrouded in mystery, was comforting his wife.
“Ah, do not grieve, mine Alicia! No doubt ze Duke vill be disappointed not to see us to-night, but I have telegraphed. Ja, I have said I had so important an affair. Ach, do not veep! I did not know you wanted so moch to dine mit ze old Duke. I sopposed you vould like a quiet evening at
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