Iolanthe's Wedding

by Hermann Sudermann

But what I read was:

"Dear Friend:--

I have thought the matter over, as you wished. I am confirmed in my decision. I shall expect to see you to-day when you call on my father.

Iolanthe."

Happy! Well, of course, I was happy--at such a moment--it goes without saying. But, then, how ashamed I was. Yes, gentlemen, ashamed, ashamed to face a soul. And when I thought of all the dubious, sarcastic looks that people would soon be casting at me, I felt I'd rather back out of the business.

But the hour had come. Up and be doing.

First I beautified myself. I cut my chin twice shaving. One of the stable-boys had to ride two miles to the chemist's to get me some flesh-coloured court-plaster. My waistcoat was drawn in so tight I could scarcely breathe, and my poor old sister nearly went wild trying to give my necktie that careless, free-and-easy look I wanted.

And all the time I kept thinking and thinking--it never left me for an instant:

"Hanckel, Hanckel, you're making an ass of yourself."

But my entry into Krakowitz was grand--two dapper greys of my own breeding--silver collar trimmings--a new landau lined with wine-coloured satin. No prince in the world could have come a-wooing more proudly.