“I shall have at my elbow an adviser whose knowledge of the highest society in Europe is, without exaggeration, unequalled. Your perfectly natural doubts will be laid at rest when I tell you that I hope to be accompanied by the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.”
The Baron could no longer contain himself.
“Himmel! Hurray! My dear friend, I vill go mit you to hell!”
“That's very good of you,” said Essington, “but you mistake my present destination. I merely wish your company as far as the Castle of Hechnahoul.”
“I gom mit so moch pleasure zat I cannot eggspress! Tollyvoddle, be no longer afraid. I have helped to write a book on ze noble families of Germany—zat is to say, I have contributed my portrait and some anecdote. Our dear friend shall make no mistakes!”
By this guarantee Lord Tulliwuddle's last doubts were completely set at rest. His spirits rose as he perceived how happily this easy avenue would lead him out of all his troubles. He insisted on calling for wine and pledging success to the adventure with the most resolute and confident air, and nothing but a few details remained now to be settled. These were chiefly with regard to the precise limits up to which the duplicate Lord Tulliwuddle might advance his conquering arms.
“You won't formally propose, will you?” said the first edition of that peer.
“Certainly not, if you prefer to negotiate the surrender yourself,” the later impression assured him.
“And you mustn't—well—er——”
“I shall touch nothing.”