"In less than a month, Toni, having quarreled with his Abbé, was going up and down in Rome, proclaiming his contempt for Popish superstitions, and raving about heathen gods and goddesses like a Renaissance Cardinal. He neither presented himself at the Austrian Embassy, nor sought the customary Papal blessing: he wandered about with mad artist-folk, ate in hostelries, danced extravagantly at models' balls, where he gave the Italian females lessons in Austrian Choregraphy, which caused them to open their eyes, and ended by falling in love with a market-girl from the Trastevere. When he came home, he brought his Trasteverina along, with the naïve intention of marrying her. His father, not unnaturally declined this connection, Toni had still less mind to the Church, so they put him in the army.
"Found fault with by his superiors, idolized by his subordinates, cordially liked by the rest of us, he remained to the end, a middling officer and a splendid comrade. He rode round-shouldered and was incurably careless about his accoutrements, and because of his harmless cynicism, and his easy-going, half rustic unmannerliness, we christened him the Peasant Count and Farmer Toni.
"There was a legend that his Majesty, one day at a hunt or a race, or some one of those occasions that serve to bring the monarch a little nearer to his subjects, condescended to ask Toni's father, old Count Hugo, 'How is your family, and what are your sons doing?' 'The eldest,' said Count Truyn, 'is serving your Majesty in the Foreign Office, and the second is in the army.' 'He is here,' added the count, looking about for Toni. He discovered him not far off, leaning against a tree, whistling, his hands in his pockets, his cap dragged down over his ears, oblivious of kaisers.
"The old count was so upset by this sight, that he pointed out another man, in a great hurry, and that man happened to be Zwilk. The kaiser asked no more questions, and nothing came of it, but when the peasant-count told us this story afterward, amid shouts of laughter, he added, 'Now you know why I can't bear Zwilk. I envy him his distinction.'
"One hot summer day,--it was in Vienna, and we were riding home from the manœuvres, through a suburb,--in a deserted street, full of sweepings and gamins, smelling of soap boiling and leather curing, Farmer Toni's eyes fell on the dirty sign of a miserable little shop, 'Anton Zwilch, Tin-man.' Resting one hand on his horse's croup, Toni leaned over, and said with that soft, winning voice of his, which was in such true aristocratic contrast to his rough-and-ready manners, 'Batiste, is that your cousin?' And Zwilk replied with a forced smile, through his nose, 'Non, mon cher, that must be another line. We write our name with a k: Zwilk von Zwilnek.'
"Next day in Café Daum, the farmer-count perfidiously seized on a general lull in the conversation, and called across several tables to his particular friend. First Lieutenant Schmied.
"'Du, Schmied! Is the brewer at Hitzing, a relative of yours?' And the other called back affectedly, 'Non, mon cher, that must be another line, we spell ourselves with an ie.'
"This feeble joke was repeated at intervals after that, to the edification of Toni and his friend, and the great embarrassment of all the rest. Zwilk pretended not to hear it.
"About this time our corps was enriched by the arrival of Count Erich Truyn, Toni's cousin. He had got himself exchanged from the Cuirassiers because of some love affair or other. He was blonde, handsome as a picture, chivalrous, aristocrat through and through. Like all the Truyns, excepting Toni, Erich was conservative, even reactionary. Nevertheless, perhaps exactly for that reason, he was most considerate toward people who were less well born than himself. When Toni and Schmied served up their stale joke about 'the other line,' Count Erich always grew restless, and at last, one day when I was present, he remonstrated with his cousin. 'You are really too unfeeling, Toni,' he said. 'How is it possible for you to jeer at a poor devil who can't help his extraction, and no doubt has to suffer enough from it. Look here--I--Hm--it would annoy me very much to have this go any further, but I have heard that poor Zwilk was once a waiter at Lamm.'
"'Whatever he was would make no difference if he were a decent man now, but he isn't!' broke out Toni. 'He's a low fellow; heartless canaille!'