The Baron was happy; and that is to say that his laughter re-echoed from the shining mirrors, his tongue was loosed, his heart expanded, his glass seemed ever empty.
“Ach, how to make zis joie de vivre to last beyond to-night!” he cried. “May ze Teufel fly off mit of offeecial duties and receptions and—and even mit my vife for a few days.”
“My dear Baron!”
“To Alicia!” cried the Baron hastily, draining his glass at the toast. “But some fun first!”
“'I could not love thee, dear, so well,
Loved I not humor more!'”
misquoted his host gaily. “Ah!” he added, “here comes Tulliwuddle.”
A young man, with his hands in his pockets and an eyeglass in his eye, strolled up to their table.
“I'm beastly sorry for being so late,” said he; “but I'm hanged if I could make up my mind whether to risk wearing one of these frilled shirt-fronts. It's not bad, I think, with one's tie tied this way. What do you say?”
“It suits you like a halo,” Essington assured him. “But let me introduce you to my friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.”
Lord Tulliwuddle bowed politely and took the empty chair; but it was evident that his attention could not concentrate itself upon sublunary matters till the shirt-front had been critically inspected and appreciatively praised by his host. Indeed, it was quite clear that Essington had not exaggerated his regard for himself. This admiration was perhaps the most pleasing feature to be noted on a brief acquaintance with his lordship. He was obviously intended neither for a strong man of action nor a great man of thought. A tolerable appearance and considerable amiability he might no doubt claim; but unfortunately the effort to retain his eye-glass had apparently the effect of forcing his mouth chronically open, which somewhat marred his appearance; while his natural good-humor lapsed too frequently into the lamentations of an idle man that Providence neglected him or that his creditors were too attentive.