"And the loveliness has disappeared?"
"Ja wohl!" repeated the other with a shrug.
"You speak their language, I perceive?" said Lady Railton.
"I can say 'Ja wohl,' 'Brod,' and 'Guten morgen'—not another syllable. I was entrapped into those; but not another step will I advance. I take my stand at 'Guten morgen.'"
Lady Railton smiled.
"'Tis not a sweet language, I believe," she continued.
"As sweet as the people, believe me, who are the uncleanest race in Christendom. You will say so when you have passed three months at Wiesbaden."
"I have no hope of so prolonged a stay—rather, you would have me say 'no fear.'"
"Oh! pray remain and judge for yourself. Begin with his Highness the Duke, who dines every day with his subjects at the table-d'hôte of this hotel, and end with that extraordinary domestic animal, half little boy half old man, who fidgets like a gnome about him at the table. Enter into what they call the gaieties of this horrid place—eat their food—drink their wine—look at the gambling—talk to their greasy aristocracy—listen to their growl—contemplate the universal dirt, and form your own conclusions."
"I presume you are about to quit this happy valley!"