Meanwhile that Heaven-sent nobleman, with a manner enshrouded in mystery, was comforting his wife.
“Ah, do not grieve, mine Alicia! No doubt ze Duke vill be disappointed not to see us to-night, but I have telegraphed. Ja, I have said I had so important an affair. Ach, do not veep! I did not know you wanted so moch to dine mit ze old Duke. I sopposed you vould like a quiet evening at home. But anyhow I have now telegraphed—and my leetle dinner mit my friend—Ach, it is so important zat I most rosh and get dressed. Cheer up, my loff! Good-by!”
He paused in answer to a tearful question.
“His name? Alas, I have promised not to say. You vould not have a European war by my indiscretion?”
CHAPTER III
With mirrors reflecting a myriad lights, with the hum of voices, the rustle of satin and lace, the hurrying steps of waiters, the bubbling of laughter, of life, and of wine—all these on each side of them, and a plate, a foaming glass, and a friend in front, the Baron and his host smiled radiantly down upon less favored mortals.
“Tulliwuddle is very late,” said Essington; “but he's a devilish casual gentleman in all matters.”
“I am selfish enoff to hope he vill not gom at all!” exclaimed the Baron.
“Unfortunately he has had the doubtful taste to conceive a curiously high opinion of myself. I am afraid he won't desert us. But I don't propose that we shall suffer for his slackness. Bring the fish, waiter.”