When, after dinner, the ladies had retired, and the gentlemen lingered over the walnuts and wine,—
“Captain Varde,” said Fred Freeman, “I cannot tell you how much astonished I and my comrades feel at all we see around us in this pretty home of yours. It is so different from anything we could have expected to meet with in Russia.”
“It is, indeed,” added Chisholm, “there is an air of refinement everywhere, and, if you will excuse me for saying so, captain, the English spoken by Mrs and Miss Varde, with the exception of a slight foreign accent, which, in my opinion, adds a charm to it, is as perfect as any you will hear in London.”
“We have travelled a good deal, even in your country,” said the Danish captain, with a smile.
“Yes, but,” said Fred, “you would travel a very long way in England without meeting with a family who could talk the Russian language. As linguists, the people of this country undoubtedly beat us. Now, my idea of a Russian peasant, or small farmer, was somewhat as follows—shall I offend you if I describe my beau-ideal rustic Russian?”
“Certainly not; though my wife and child are Russians by birth, I myself am a Dane.”
“Well, then,” said Fred, “the rustic Russian that I had on the brain, and whose prototype I look for here in vain, was indeed a sorry lout—a short, stout, rough, and unkempt fellow, with less appearance of good breeding about him than a Nottingham cowherd, and less manners than a Newcastle navvy, with a good deal of reverence about him for the aristocracy, and an extraordinary relish for rum. He was guiltless of anything resembling ablution; dressed in sheep’s skins, with the hairy side next the skin; slept in this same jacket, and never changed it from one year’s end to another, except for the purpose of taking a bath, which operation he performed by getting inside the stove and raking the hot ashes all about him; his principal diet was the blackest of bread, and the greatest treat you could give him a basin of train-oil and a horn spoon.”
Captain Varde laughed. “Anyhow,” he said, “I am glad you have already found yourselves undeceived, and I do not doubt but that, in your intercourse with the people of this country, you will find many of them brave, generous, and gentlemanly fellows, and quite worthy of being reckoned among the number of your friends.”
And Captain Varde was right.