“And this, I suppose, is the end of some of the BILLINGS?” said the Abbe, pointing to Mr. Tom.
“Billings! what do you mean? Yes—oh—ah—a pun, a calembourg. Fi donc, M. l'Abbe.” And then, after the wont of very stupid people, M. de Galgenstein went on to explain to the Abbe his own pun. “Well, but to proceed,” cries he. “We lived together at Birmingham, and I was going to be married to a rich heiress, egad! when what do you think this little Cat does? She murders me, egad! and makes me manquer the marriage. Twenty thousand, I think it was; and I wanted the money in those days. Now, wasn't she an abominable monster, that mother of yours, hey, Mr. a—What's-your-name?”
“She served you right!” said Mr. Billings, with a great oath, starting up out of all patience.
“Fellow!” said his Excellency, quite aghast, “do you know to whom you speak?—to a nobleman of seventy-eight descents; a count of the Holy Roman Empire; a representative of a sovereign? Ha, egad! Don't stamp, fellow, if you hope for my protection.”
“D—n your protection!” said Mr. Billings, in a fury. “Curse you and your protection too! I'm a free-born Briton, and no —— French Papist! And any man who insults my mother—ay, or calls me feller—had better look to himself and the two eyes in his head, I can tell him!” And with this Mr. Billings put himself into the most approved attitude of the Cockpit, and invited his father, the reverend gentleman, and Monsieur la Rose the valet, to engage with him in a pugilistic encounter. The two latter, the Abbe especially, seemed dreadfully frightened; but the Count now looked on with much interest; and, giving utterance to a feeble kind of chuckle, which lasted for about half a minute, said,—
“Paws off, Pompey! You young hangdog, you—egad, yes, aha! 'pon honour, you're a lad of spirit; some of your father's spunk in you, hey? I know him by that oath. Why, sir, when I was sixteen, I used to swear—to swear, egad, like a Thames waterman, and exactly in this fellow's way! Buss me, my lad; no, kiss my hand. That will do”—and he held out a very lean yellow hand, peering from a pair of yellow ruffles. It shook very much, and the shaking made all the rings upon it shine only the more.
“Well,” says Mr. Billings, “if you wasn't a-going to abuse me nor mother, I don't care if I shake hands with you. I ain't proud!”
The Abbe laughed with great glee; and that very evening sent off to his Court a most ludicrous spicy description of the whole scene of meeting between this amiable father and child; in which he said that young Billings was the eleve favori of M. Kitch, Ecuyer, le bourreau de Londres, and which made the Duke's mistress laugh so much that she vowed that the Abbe should have a bishopric on his return: for, with such store of wisdom, look you, my son, was the world governed in those days.
The Count and his offspring meanwhile conversed with some cordiality. The former informed the latter of all the diseases to which he was subject, his manner of curing them, his great consideration as chamberlain to the Duke of Bavaria; how he wore his Court suits, and of a particular powder which he had invented for the hair; how, when he was seventeen, he had run away with a canoness, egad! who was afterwards locked up in a convent, and grew to be sixteen stone in weight; how he remembered the time when ladies did not wear patches; and how the Duchess of Marlborough boxed his ears when he was so high, because he wanted to kiss her.
All these important anecdotes took some time in the telling, and were accompanied by many profound moral remarks; such as, “I can't abide garlic, nor white-wine, stap me! nor Sauerkraut, though his Highness eats half a bushel per day. I ate it the first time at Court; but when they brought it me a second time, I refused—refused, split me and grill me if I didn't! Everybody stared; his Highness looked as fierce as a Turk; and that infernal Krahwinkel (my dear, I did for him afterwards)—that cursed Krahwinkel, I say, looked as pleased as possible, and whispered to Countess Fritsch, 'Blitzchen, Frau Grafinn,' says he, 'it's all over with Galgenstein.' What did I do? I had the entree, and demanded it. 'Altesse,' says I, falling on one knee, 'I ate no kraut at dinner to-day. You remarked it: I saw your Highness remark it.'