To enjoy the sunshine one must have sojourned in shadow; and, certainly, prosperity is never so entrancing as after some experience of its opposite, and Beecher was never wearied of admiring the splendor of the apartment, the wonderful promptitude of the waiters, and the excellence of everything. It must be owned the dinner was in Bauer's best style,—the bisque, the raebraten, the pheasant, all that could be wished for; and when the imposing host himself uncorked a precious flask of a “Cabinet Steinberger,” Beecher felt it was a very charming world when one had only got to the sunny side of it. Mr. Bauer—a politeness rarely accorded, save to the highest rank—directed the service in person, and vouchsafed to be agreeable during the repast.
“And so your season was a good one, Bauer?” said Beecher.
“Reasonably so, your Excellency. We had the King of Wurtemberg, the Queen of Greece, a couple of archdukes, and a crown prince of something far north,—second rate ones all, but good people, and easily satisfied.”
Beecher gave a significant glance towards Lizzy, and went on: “And who were your English visitors?”
“The old set, your Excellency: the Duke of Middleton, Lord Headlam and his four daughters, Sir Hipsley Keyling, to break the bank, as usual—”
“And did he?”
“No, Excellency; it broke him.”
“Poor devil! it ain't so easy to get to windward of those fellows, Bauer; they are too many for us, eh?” said Beecher, chuckling with the consciousness that he had the key to that mysterious secret.
“Well, Excellency, there's nobody ever does it but one, so long as I have known Baden.”
“And who is he, pray?”