We stayed a short while at Prague, and reached Vienna on Christmas Day. We put up at the “Red Bull,” the Countess Blasin (who had been transformed into a milliner) in one room, and I in another, so that we might pass for strangers while continuing our intimacy.
The next morning, as we were taking coffee together, two individuals came into the room, and asked the rude question,—
“Who are you, madam?”
“My name is Blasin.”
“Who is this gentleman?”
“You had better ask him.”
“What are you doing at Vienna?”
“Taking coffee. I should have thought you could have seen that for yourselves.”
“If the gentleman is not your husband, you will leave the town within twenty-four hours.”
“The gentleman is my friend, and not my husband; and I shall leave Vienna exactly when I choose, unless you make me go away by force.”