“That’s what many people say, and fancy they know the world when they have looked out of their own windows,” observed the Baron.
“Ah, yes, perhaps you are right: you always are when I happen to be wrong, and you differ from me—unless you are wrong also,” replied the Count. “But where shall we go?”
“Why, round the world if we want to see it;—or as far round as we can get,” said the Baron, correcting himself; “and then we shall not have seen it all.”
“When shall we start?” asked the Count, brightening up; “next year?”
“Next fiddlesticks! this afternoon, to be sure. Don’t put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day, still less till next year. What’s to hinder us? We have no ties.”
“Yes, there are my neck-ties to come from the laundress,” said the Count, who was addicted to taking things literally; “and I must procure some new shoe-ties.”
“Never mind, I’ll get them for you in good time,” said the Baron. “You have plenty of money, so you can pay for both of us, which will simplify accounts.”
“Yes, to be sure, I hate complicated accounts,” remarked the Count, who thought the Baron the essence of wisdom, and that this was an especially bright idea. “And what luggage shall we require?”
“Let me see: you have two valises—one will do for you and the other for me,” said the Baron, putting his fore-finger on his brow in a thoughtful manner. “All, yes; besides the ties you will require a shirt-collar or two, a comb to unravel those hyacinthine locks of yours, a pair of spectacles, and a toothpick. It might be as well also to take an umbrella, in case we should be caught out in the rainy season.”
“But shouldn’t I take my slippers?” asked the Count.