“My friends, I state the fact, upon the honor of a Magyar nobleman!” von Steyregg asseverated. He appealed to Köhler, who replied: “Undoubtedly,” and went on munching, looking sharply this way and that out of his round brown twinkling rat’s eyes. “You hear the eloquent testimony of my associate,” the self-styled Baron went on. “You see these highly-respectable persons,” he pointed with a flourish to the abashed valet and the blushing maid, “who in their varying capacities have the honor to serve His Serene Highness the Prince-Aspirant of Widinitz,—traveling incognito under the style and cognomen of Colonel von Widinitz-Dunoisse,—and the noble and lovely lady”—a cough momentarily checked the flood of the Steyreggian eloquence, and then it rolled turbidly on again—“whom I mentioned just now. They are here, as I have said, partaking, after the fatigues of their journey, of marinaded trout, ragout of veal, salmi of grouse, and quelquechoses. Your privileged eyes will behold them presently, when they descend to distinguish your boulevards and promenades by taking the air upon them.... To-morrow, when the Procession of the Feast takes place—in preparation for which anniversary your streets are even now being strewn with pine-branches and oak-leaves, your public and private buildings adorned with banners and hung with lamps—your maidens are twining garlands, your infants of both sexes learning hymns—to-morrow all Widinitz will behold its hereditary Sovereign participating in the solemnity; and draw, I trust, parallel between Gothic intolerance—I name no names!—and noble, princely piety! Excuse me, my good sirs,” the Baron added, and ostentatiously wiped his lachrymose eye, “I am not easily moved to emotion, but the inward chords cannot but respond to the conception of a spectacle so poignant and so memorable. You must pardon me this single tear!”
A murmur of ambiguous meaning traveled round the table. The plump tradesman whom von Steyregg had first addressed pushed back his chair and rose, picked up his Missal, tucked it under his arm, took his soft felt hat and thick, tasseled walking-cane from the waiter’s hands; and then said, turning to the Magyar nobleman:
“Würdig Herr, you have paid for my dinner, and I am bound to be civil to you. But this is a Catholic State all said and done; the Lutherans are the peppercorns sprinkled through the salad, and if any other man than you had told me that this gentleman could take part in Our Lady’s Procession, having filled his belly full of fish, flesh, and fowl upon the Eve of the Feast, I should have called him a liar! knowing that no person is permitted to take part in the solemnity who is not in a state of grace. By that is understood fasting, or at least abstinence, upon the Vigil, with confession, absolution, penance duly discharged, and Communion crowning all; added, a proper spirit of devotion to the most chaste Mother of God, Who, let me tell you! is honored in this State. I might add that the recommendation of a priest is usually required, and here in Widinitz the sanction of his Lordship the Archbishop. But perhaps your principal has a dispensation which releases him from these trifling obligations?”
Teeth showed, or bits of German boxwood strung on silver wires; or gums that lacked even these substitutes, in the faces that were set about the table. The Pagan Steyregg, flustered by wine and confused by theological terminology, rushed upon his fate. Of course, he declared, his principal had a dispensation and Madame also.... Every member of the party was furnished with the requisite in case of need.... It was not customary for persons moving in exalted social spheres to travel without, he begged leave to inform the company. Whose entertainment was to be charged, he emphatically insisted, upon His Serene Highness’s bill.
The table was vacated, the room emptied without any special demonstration of gratitude on the part of those who had participated in His Highness’s bounty. The guests dispersed, to tell their wives or housekeepers, or to forget to do so, not one remaining save the portly citizen with the finely-starched shirt-frill. He said, once safely outside the coffee-room door, pausing to offer his snuff-box to the landlord, whom he encountered on his way from the cellar, bearing a flask of Benedictine and a bottle of special Kirschwasser:
“You have queer guests upstairs, or I have been listening to a lunatic within there!”
The speaker, dusting the pungent brown powder from a first finger and thumb, pointed the indicatory digit in the direction of the coffee-room. The landlord said, holding the Kirsch between his eye and the light:
“Heretics, who come to witness our procession of The Assumption as they might visit a theater-play. Well! one can only pray for their conversion, and charge their impiety among the extras on the bill.”
His expression portended a total of appalling magnitude. He added:
“They give the surnames of von Widinitz-Dunoisse. He does, that is! And we have learned enough since His late Serene Highness was gathered to his fathers to know what rascally impudence tacks the two together.”