[Octavio subscribes his name, and reaches over the paper to Tertsky, who gives it to Isolani; and he goes to the table to sign his name.
Tiefenbach. 'Twas that war in Pomerania that first brought
it on. Out in all weathers—ice and snow—no help for it.—I 40
shall never get the better of it all the days of my life.
Goetz. Why, in simple verity, your Swede makes no nice
enquiries about the season.
Tertsky (observing Isolani, whose hand trembles excessively, so
that he can scarce direct his pen). Have you had that ugly
complaint long, noble brother?—Dispatch it. 45
Isolani. The sins of youth! I have already tried the
Chalybeate waters. Well—I must bear it.
[Tertsky gives the paper to Maradas; he steps to the table to subscribe.
Octavio (advancing to Butler). You are not over fond of the
orgies of Bacchus, Colonel! I have observed it. You would, I
think, find yourself more to your liking in the uproar of a battle, [50]
than of a feast.
Butler. I must confess, 'tis not in my way.
Octavio. Nor in mine either, I can assure you; and I am not
a little glad, my much honoured Colonel Butler, that we agree
so well in our opinions. A half dozen good friends at most, 55
at a small round table, a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts,
and a rational conversation—that's my taste!
Butler. And mine too, when it can be had.