"Then you do smoke, Herr Count?"
"Certainly; but I never smoke anywhere but in the nook before mentioned, and never in the clothes I wear ordinarily."
"Aha!—that a certain person may not detect the fumes, eh?"
"You have guessed it."
"Then there is not an atom of truth in the reports malicious tongues have spread abroad about you, for I know very well that a certain lady has not the least objection to tobacco smoke. I do not refer to the Herr Count's donna who lives here in the castle—you may be sure I shall take good care not to ask any more questions about her. No; I am not talking about that one, but about the other one, who has puzzled me a good deal of late. She takes the Herr Count's part everywhere, and is always ready to defend you. Had she not assured me that I might with perfect safety venture to call here again, I should have sent my secretary to you with the Sigillum compulsorium. I tell you, Herr Count, ardent partizanship of that sort from the other donna looks a trifle suspicious!"
The count laughed, then said:
"Herr Vice-palatine, you remind me of the critic who, at the conclusion of a concert, said to a gentleman near whom he was standing: 'Who is that lady who sings so frightfully out of tune?' 'The lady is my wife.' 'Ah, I did not mean the one who sang, but the lady who accompanied her on the piano—the one who performs so execrably.' 'That lady is my sister.' 'I beg a thousand pardons! I made a mistake; it is the music, the composition, that is so horrible. I wonder who composed it?' 'I did.'"
Herr Bernat was charmed—completely vanquished. This count not only smoked: he could also relate an anecdote! Truly he was a man worth knowing—a gentleman from crown to sole.
Toward the conclusion of the excellent dinner, to which Herr Bernat did ample justice, he ventured to propose a toast:
"I cannot refrain, Herr Count, from drinking to the welfare of this castle's mistress; and since I do not know whether there be one or two, I lift a glass in each hand. Vivant!"