‘“Where am I?” was my question, as I looked about, and perceived that the party wore a kind of blue uniform, with fur on the collar and cuffs, and a greyhound worked in gold on the arm.
‘“Why, you’re safe, my good friend,” said a friendly voice beside me; “that’s quite enough to know at present, isn’t it?”
‘“I begin to agree with you,” said I coolly; and so, turning round on my side, I closed my eyes, and fell into as pleasant a sleep as ever I remember in my life.
‘They were, indeed, a very singular class of restoratives which my kind friends thought proper to administer to me; nor am I quite sure that a bavaroise of chocolate dashed with rum, and friction over the face with hot Eau de Cologne are sufficiently appreciated by the “faculty”; but this I do know, that I felt very much revived by the application without and within; and with a face somewhat the colour of a copper preserving-pan, and far too hot to put anything on, I sat up and looked about me. A merrier set of gentlemen not even my experience had ever beheld. They were mostly middle-aged, grizzly-looking fellows, with very profuse beards and moustaches; their conversation was partly French, partly German, while here and there a stray Italian diminutive crept in; and to season the whole, like cayenne in a ragoût, there was an odd curse in English. Their strange dress, their free-and-easy manner, their intimacy with one another, and, above all, the locale they had chosen for their festivities, made me, I own, a little suspicious about their spotless morality, and I began conjecturing to what possible calling they might belong—now guessing them smugglers, now police of some kind or other, now highwaymen outright, but without ever being able to come to any conclusion that even approached satisfaction. The more I listened, the more did my puzzle grow on me. That they were either the most distinguished and exalted individuals or the most confounded story-tellers was certain. Here was a fat, greasy little fellow, with a beard like an Armenian, who was talking of a trip he made to Greece with the Duke of Saxe-Weimar; apparently they were on the best of terms together, and had a most jolly time of it. There was a large handsome man, with a short black moustache, describing a night attack made by wolves on the caravan he was in, during a journey to Siberia. I listened with intense interest to his narrative; the scenery, the danger, the preparation for defence, had all those little traits that bespeak truth, when, confound him! he destroyed the whole as he said, “At that moment the Archduke Nicholas said to me——” The Archduke Nicholas, indeed! very good that! he’s just as great a liar as the other.
‘“Come,” thought I, “there’s a respectable-looking old fellow with a bald head—let us hear him; there’s no boasting of the great people he ever met with from that one, I’m sure.”
‘“We were now coming near to Vienna,” continued he, “the night was dark as pitch, when a vedette came up to say that a party of brigands, well known thereabouts, were seen hovering about the post station the entire evening. We were well armed, but still by no means numerous, and it became a grave question what we were to do. I got down immediately, and examined the loading and priming of the carbines; they were all right, nothing had been stirred. ‘What’s the matter?’ said the duke.” (“Oh,” thought I, “then there’s a duke here also!”) “‘What’s the matter?’ said the Duke of Wellington.”
‘“Oh, by Jove! that beats all!” cried I, jumping up on the sofa, and opening both my hands with astonishment. “I ‘d have wagered a trifle on that little fellow, and hang me if he isn’t the worst of the whole set!”
‘“What ‘s the matter; what’s happened?” said they all, turning round in amazement at my sudden exclamation. “Is the man mad?”
‘“It’s hard to say,” replied I; “but if I ‘m not, you must be—unless I have the honour, which is perfectly possible, to be at this moment in company with the Holy Alliance; for, so help me, since I’ve sat here and listened to you, there is not a crowned head in Europe, not a queen, not an archduke, ambassador, and general-in-chief, whom some of you have not been intimate with; and the small man with a red beard has just let slip something about the Shah of Persia.”
‘The torrent of laughter that shook the table never ceased for a full quarter of an hour. Old and young, smooth and grizzly, they laughed till their faces were seamed with rivulets like a mountain in winter; and when they would endeavour to address me, they’d burst out again, as fresh as ever.