"We are just sitting down to dinner, count; will you join us?"
"As soon as I have improved my toilet, my dear lord," replied he; "you must perceive that I am off a journey."
The master of the hotel bowed, and proceeded to show the count to a dressing-room. When I returned upstairs—"What was the matter?" inquired O'Brien.
"Oh, nothing!—a little disturbance in consequence of a foreigner not understanding English."
In about five minutes the waiter opened the door, and announced Count
Shucksen.
"Now, O'Brien, you'll be puzzled," said I; and in came the count.
"My dear Lord Privilege," said he, coming up and taking me by the hand, "let me not be the last to congratulate you upon your accession. I was running up the channel in my frigate when a pilot-boat gave me a newspaper, in which I saw your unexpected change of circumstances. I made an excuse for dropping my anchor at Spithead this morning, and I have come up post, to express how sincerely I participate in your good fortune." Count Shucksen then politely saluted the ladies and the general, and turned round to O'Brien, who had been staring at him with astonishment. "Count Shucksen, allow me to introduce Sir Terence O'Brien."
"By the piper that played before Moses, but it's a puzzle," said O'Brien. "Blood and thunder! if it a'n't Chucks!—my dear fellow, when did you rise from your grave?"
"Fortunately," replied the count, as they shook each other's hands for some time, "I never went into it, Sir Terence. But now, with your permission, my lord, I'll take some food, as I really am not a little hungry. After dinner, Captain O'Brien, you shall hear my history."
His secret was confided to the whole party, upon my pledging myself for their keeping it locked up in their own breasts, which was a bold thing on my part, considering that two of them were ladies. The count stayed with us for some time, and was introduced everywhere. It was impossible to discover that he had not been bred up in a court, his manners were so good. He was a great favourite with the ladies; and his moustachios, bad French, and waltzing—an accomplishment he had picked up in Sweden—were quite the vogue. All the ladies were sorry when the Swedish count announced his departure by a P.P.C.