“'I did, M. le Comte,' said his Highness, gravely.
“I had almost tears in my eyes; but it was necessary to come to a resolution, you know. 'Sir,' said I, 'I speak with deep grief to your Highness, who are my benefactor, my friend, my father; but of this I am resolved, I WILL NEVER EAT SAUERKRAUT MORE: it don't agree with me. After being laid up for four weeks by the last dish of Sauerkraut of which I partook, I may say with confidence—IT DON'T agree with me. By impairing my health, it impairs my intellect, and weakens my strength; and both I would keep for your Highness's service.'
“'Tut, tut!' said his Highness. 'Tut, tut, tut!' Those were his very words.
“'Give me my sword or my pen,' said I. 'Give me my sword or my pen, and with these Maximilian de Galgenstein is ready to serve you; but sure,—sure, a great prince will pity the weak health of a faithful subject, who does not know how to eat Sauerkraut?' His Highness was walking about the room: I was still on my knees, and stretched forward my hand to seize his coat.
“'GEHT ZUM TEUFEL, Sir!' said he, in a loud voice (it means 'Go to the deuce,' my dear),—'Geht zum Teufel, and eat what you like!' With this he went out of the room abruptly; leaving in my hand one of his buttons, which I keep to this day. As soon as I was alone, amazed by his great goodness and bounty, I sobbed aloud—cried like a child” (the Count's eyes filled and winked at the very recollection), “and when I went back into the card-room, stepping up to Krahwinkel, 'Count,' says I, 'who looks foolish now?'—Hey there, La Rose, give me the diamond—Yes, that was the very pun I made, and very good it was thought. 'Krahwinkel,' says I, 'WHO LOOKS FOOLISH NOW?' and from that day to this I was never at a Court-day asked to eat Sauerkraut—NEVER!”
“Hey there, La Rose! Bring me that diamond snuff-box in the drawer of my secretaire;” and the snuff-box was brought. “Look at it, my dear,” said the Count, “for I saw you seemed to doubt. There is the button—the very one that came off his Grace's coat.”
Mr. Billings received it, and twisted it about with a stupid air. The story had quite mystified him; for he did not dare yet to think his father was a fool—his respect for the aristocracy prevented him.
When the Count's communications had ceased, which they did as soon as the story of the Sauerkraut was finished, a silence of some minutes ensued. Mr. Billings was trying to comprehend the circumstances above narrated; his Lordship was exhausted; the chaplain had quitted the room directly the word Sauerkraut was mentioned—he knew what was coming. His Lordship looked for some time at his son; who returned the gaze with his mouth wide open. “Well,” said the Count—“well, sir? What are you sitting there for? If you have nothing to say, sir, you had better go. I had you here to amuse me—split me—and not to sit there staring!”
Mr. Billings rose in a fury.
“Hark ye, my lad,” said the Count, “tell La Rose to give thee five guineas, and, ah—come again some morning. A nice well-grown young lad,” mused the Count, as Master Tommy walked wondering out of the apartment; “a pretty fellow enough, and intelligent too.”