"Who can that be?" thought I: and I went out of the door, and looked over the banisters, as the noise continued.
"You must not come here to beat Englishmen, I can tell you," roared one of the waiters. "What do we care for your foreign counts?"
"Sacre, canaille?" cried the other party, in a contemptuous voice, which
I well knew.
"Ay, canal!—we'll duck you in the canal, if you don't mind."
"You will!" said the stranger, who had hitherto spoken French. "Allow me to observe—in the most delicate manner in the world—just to hint, that you are a d——d trencher-scraping, napkin-carrying, shilling-seeking, up-and-down-stairs son of a bitch—and take this for your impudence!"
The noise of the cane was again heard; and I hastened downstairs, where I found Count Shucksen thrashing two or three of the waiters without mercy. At my appearance, the waiters, who were showing fight, retreated to a short distance, out of reach of the cane.
"My dear count," exclaimed I, "is it you?"
"My dear Lord Privilege, will you excuse me? but these fellows are saucy."
"Then I'll have them discharged," replied I. "If a friend of mine, and an officer of your rank and distinction, cannot come to see me without insult, I will seek another hotel."
This threat of mine, and the reception I gave the count, put all to rights. The waiters sneaked off, and the master of the hotel apologised. It appeared that they had desired him to wait in the coffee-room until they could announce him, which had hurt the count's dignity.