“My dear Baron! a formal reception of the guests is entirely foreign to English etiquette.”
“Zo? I did not know zat.”
The supper-room was crowded, and having secured a table with some difficulty, Mr Bunker entered immediately into conversation with a solitary young gentleman who was consuming a plate of oysters. Before they had exchanged six sentences the young man had entirely succumbed to Mr Bunker’s address, aided possibly by the young man’s supper.
“Permit me to introduce my friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, a nobleman strange as yet to England, but renowned throughout his native land alike for his talents and his lofty position,” said Mr Bunker.
“Ach, my good friend,” exclaimed the Baron, grasping the young man’s hand, “das ist Bonker’s vat you call nonsense; bot I am delighted, zehr delighted, to meet you, and if you gom to Bavaria you most shoot vid me! Bravo! Ha!”
From which it may be gathered that the Baron was in a genial humour.
“Who is that girl?” asked Mr Bunker, pointing to an extremely pretty damsel just leaving the room.
“Oh, that’s my cousin, Lady Muriel Hilton. She’s thought rather pretty, I believe,” answered the young man.
“Do you mind introducing me?”
“Certainly,” said their new friend. “Come along.”