And then he began in his anxiety to converse as if he had been paid to entertain the company. He described the antiques which his uncle had collected in his castle on the Rhine, referred to threatened American competition, passed on to Italy and the evils of the Lex Pacca--goodness only knew what topic he didn't touch on.
It was quite an illuminating little discourse, which his uncle appeared to follow with modified interest, as he squinted across at Lilly and smacked his lips while he let morsels of tunny in oil slip down his throat.
Suddenly he said, "All very well, my son. Highly instructive and proper. But I wonder if you could not be equally enlightening on the subject of what sort of whisky they provide here?"
Konrad sprang up to look for the bell, but his uncle pulled him back.
"Stop! stop! This is my private entertainment. The port wine is for you. And a beautiful woman, after all, is a beautiful woman, even when she is someone else's beautiful wife. So here's to the health of our beauty."
That sounded very like sarcasm. Was it his intention to make game of her before finally rejecting her claims?
"Permit me," he continued, "to give you my congratulations. You have worked wonders already with the boy.... He dances prettily to your piping--eh?"
Now she was bound to make some answer.
"I don't pipe and he doesn't dance," she said, with an effort. "We are neither of us light-hearted enough for that."
"Ah, that's a nasty one for me," he laughed; but his laugh sounded cross and irritable.