The dinner took its course almost in accordance with the programme, which that cunning Wegen had drawn up in the wine cellar; gradually minds and spirits became more lively, the gentlemen with the iron cross told of Leipzig and Waterloo, the Oberamtmann of Schlohitten of his ewes, Baron von Fuchs of a few adventures of the East Prussian haute volée. The old Landrath led the general conversation to the absorbing topic; he spoke of Schön and Stein with that warmth which for all ages has distinguished the staunch friends of their Fatherland in East Prussia; he was only interrupted by Herr Milbe's noisy explanations, who sought to prove to his neighbour, that yesterday he must positively have won a grand at ombre if he had played spadille at once and called for basta.
"Our King," said the Landrath, "is an intellectual gentleman; he is even enthusiastic about the English state of affairs, about the land of inherited wisdom, and would be very comfortable with the Parliamentary system, because he himself is a man of great eloquence and knows how to value the results of clever speeches; but his unhappy affection for a romantic view of the State's system, in which he is strengthened by pietistic advisers, prevents him fulfilling former promises about the National Assembly; he fears to destroy the nimbus of the crown, and to endanger a divine right, which is confided to his faithful keeping."
"We are no backwoodsmen here," cried Milbe, "they shall learn that in Germany; here in East Prussia there are men who know what they want. The National Assembly is the spadille with which we will win the game."
"Our King has sense," interposed Baron von Fuchs, "he has ideas which Voltaire might envy him, although no greater contrast can be conceived than that which exists between the French scoffer's views of life and those of our King, so devoted to religious romance; but spell-bound as he is by a philosophy and poetry, which represent the charm of the moonlight-enchanted nights of the middle ages, as suitable ideas for the enlightened days of the present time, yet he has a perfect appreciation of new ideas, and his decisions can be so little counted upon, that I should not be amazed if he suddenly placed himself at the head of the political movement, and bore the banner in his own hand before us all."
"Until then," said Hermann, for whose political fervour his nose, already in a state of red-heat, was the best gauge, "we will trust to our own strength."
And, at the same time, he struck the table until the glass of Johannisberger before him fell over.
Doctor Kuhl cried enthusiastically--
"That is right! This trial of our own strength pleases me! Thus may all perish that comes from Metternich!"
"Only do not pour away the child with the bath," cried Baron Fuchs. "Johannisberger is a delicious wine, even although the dove of Patmos does not fly around Johannisberg, and his revelations have always become fatal to the German people--pale messengers of death, like the riders in the Apocalypse!"
"If we talk of biblical wines," cried Kuhl, "then I prefer the 'Lachrimæ Christi.' It grows on fire-belching Vesuvius, and the future of nations only flourishes upon the volcanic ground of revolution."