She filled our glasses, then threw herself back in her chair, laughing till the tears came, because the baron gazed at her with such a tender expression, that his eyes were invisible and his face resembled an egg-plant.
"Come, baron; we're waiting for you."
"Ach! I must sing te first; und so vill I. Vait, till I remember me some bretty song; I know many—vait. Trum, trum, trum, trideri, tram, tram, tram. Sapremann! So many I know! Vait! Troum, troum, troum, tradera, tradera. Id is sehr—how you say?—astonish! Ich kann nicht te peginning remember. Vait—trim, trim, turlulu, traderi——"
"I'm afraid you are stuck fast, my poor Brunzbrack. While we are waiting for your memory to come back, Rochebrune will sing us something."
"I?"
"To be sure. Well! has this one lost his memory, too? Why, what sort of men are these two, that a glass of champagne puts their wits to flight?"
"I am perfectly willing to sing; but I know nothing but nonsensical things."
"Sing us a nonsensical thing! I will allow anything that isn't downright bad. Moreover, I am sure that my friend will not sing me anything unseemly."
"On the contrary, I am very unseemly, sometimes."
"In that case, monsieur, keep quiet."