Count Bunker [81]
observe) the pronounced attention of the guard. The Baron and Alicia, with an air of mutual affection, entered another; both the doors were closed, everything seemed ready, yet the train lingered.
"Start ze train! Start ze train! I vill give you a pound--two pound--tree pound, to start him!"
The Count leaped up and thrust his head through the window.
"What the dickens----!" thought he.
Hanging out of the other window he beheld the clamant Baron urging the guard with frenzied entreaty.
"But they're wanting to go by the train, sir," said the guard.
"No, no. Zey do not! It is a mistake! Start him!"
Following their gaze he saw, racing toward them, the cause of their delay. It was a motor car, yet not the same that had so lately departed. In this were seated a young man and an elderly lady, both waving to hold back the train; and to his vast amazement he recognized in the man Darius Maddison, junior, in the lady the Countess of Grillyer.
The car stopped, the occupants alighted, and the Countess, supported on the strong arm of Ri, scuttled down the platform.
"Bonker, take her in mit you!" groaned the Baron, and his head vanished from the Count's sight.
Even this ordeal was not too much for Bunker's fidelity.
"Madam, there is room here!" he announced politely, as they swept past; but with set faces they panted toward the doomed von Blitzenberg.
All of the tragedy that the Count, with strained neck, could see or overhear, was a vision of the Countess being pushed by the guard and her escort into that first-class compartment whence so lately the Baron's crimson visage had protruded, and the voice of Ri stridently declaring--
"Guess you'll recognize your momma this time, Baron!"
A whistle from the guard, another from the engine, and they were off, clattering southward in the first of the morning sunshine.
Inadequately attired, damp, hungry, and divorced from tobacco as the Count was, he yet could say to himself with the sincerest honesty
"I wouldn't change carriages with the Baron von Blitzenberg--not even for a pair of dry socks and a cigar! Alas, poor Rudolph! May this teach all young men a lesson in sobriety of conduct!"
For which moral reflection the historian feels it incumbent upon him, as a philosopher and serious psychologist, to express his conscientious admiration.
EPILOGUE
IT was an evening in early August, luminous and warm; the scene, a certain club now emptied of all but a sprinkling of its members; the festival, dinner; and the persons of the play, that gentleman lately known as Count Bunker and his friend the Baron von Blitzenberg. The Count was habited in tweeds; the Baron in evening dress.
"It vas good of you to come up to town jost to see me," said the Baron.
"I'd have crossed Europe, Baron!"
The Baron smiled faintly. Evidently he was scarcely in his most florid humor.
"I vish I could have asked you to my club, Bonker."
"Are you dissatisfied with mine?"
"Oh, no, no! But---- vell, ze fact is, it vould be reported by some one if I took you to ze Regents. Bonker, she does have me watched!"
"The Baroness?"
"Her mozzer."
"The deuce, Baron!"
The diplomatist gloomily sipped his wine.
"You did hush it all up, eh?" he inquired presently.
"Completely."
"Zank you. I vas so afraid of some scandal!"
"So were they; that's where I had 'em."
"Did zey write in moch anger?"
"No--not very much ; rather nice letters, in fact."
The Baron began to cheer up.
"Ach, so! Vas zere any news of--ze Galloshes?"
"Yes, they seem very well. Old Rentoul has caught a salmon. Gallosh hopes to get a fair bag----"
"Bot did zey say nozing about--about Miss Eva?"
"The letter was written by her, you see."
"SHE wrote to YOU! Strange!"
"Very odd, isn't it?"
The Baron meditated for a minute and then inquired--
"Vat of ze Maddisons?"
"Well, I gather that Mr. Maddison is erecting an ibis house in connection with the aviary. Ri has gone to Kamchatka, but hopes to be back by the 12th----"
"And Eleanor--no
"Start ze train! Start ze train! I vill give you a pound--two pound--tree pound, to start him!"
The Count leaped up and thrust his head through the window.
"What the dickens----!" thought he.
Hanging out of the other window he beheld the clamant Baron urging the guard with frenzied entreaty.
"But they're wanting to go by the train, sir," said the guard.
"No, no. Zey do not! It is a mistake! Start him!"
Following their gaze he saw, racing toward them, the cause of their delay. It was a motor car, yet not the same that had so lately departed. In this were seated a young man and an elderly lady, both waving to hold back the train; and to his vast amazement he recognized in the man Darius Maddison, junior, in the lady the Countess of Grillyer.
The car stopped, the occupants alighted, and the Countess, supported on the strong arm of Ri, scuttled down the platform.
"Bonker, take her in mit you!" groaned the Baron, and his head vanished from the Count's sight.
Even this ordeal was not too much for Bunker's fidelity.
"Madam, there is room here!" he announced politely, as they swept past; but with set faces they panted toward the doomed von Blitzenberg.
All of the tragedy that the Count, with strained neck, could see or overhear, was a vision of the Countess being pushed by the guard and her escort into that first-class compartment whence so lately the Baron's crimson visage had protruded, and the voice of Ri stridently declaring--
"Guess you'll recognize your momma this time, Baron!"
A whistle from the guard, another from the engine, and they were off, clattering southward in the first of the morning sunshine.
Inadequately attired, damp, hungry, and divorced from tobacco as the Count was, he yet could say to himself with the sincerest honesty
"I wouldn't change carriages with the Baron von Blitzenberg--not even for a pair of dry socks and a cigar! Alas, poor Rudolph! May this teach all young men a lesson in sobriety of conduct!"
For which moral reflection the historian feels it incumbent upon him, as a philosopher and serious psychologist, to express his conscientious admiration.
EPILOGUE
IT was an evening in early August, luminous and warm; the scene, a certain club now emptied of all but a sprinkling of its members; the festival, dinner; and the persons of the play, that gentleman lately known as Count Bunker and his friend the Baron von Blitzenberg. The Count was habited in tweeds; the Baron in evening dress.
"It vas good of you to come up to town jost to see me," said the Baron.
"I'd have crossed Europe, Baron!"
The Baron smiled faintly. Evidently he was scarcely in his most florid humor.
"I vish I could have asked you to my club, Bonker."
"Are you dissatisfied with mine?"
"Oh, no, no! But---- vell, ze fact is, it vould be reported by some one if I took you to ze Regents. Bonker, she does have me watched!"
"The Baroness?"
"Her mozzer."
"The deuce, Baron!"
The diplomatist gloomily sipped his wine.
"You did hush it all up, eh?" he inquired presently.
"Completely."
"Zank you. I vas so afraid of some scandal!"
"So were they; that's where I had 'em."
"Did zey write in moch anger?"
"No--not very much ; rather nice letters, in fact."
The Baron began to cheer up.
"Ach, so! Vas zere any news of--ze Galloshes?"
"Yes, they seem very well. Old Rentoul has caught a salmon. Gallosh hopes to get a fair bag----"
"Bot did zey say nozing about--about Miss Eva?"
"The letter was written by her, you see."
"SHE wrote to YOU! Strange!"
"Very odd, isn't it?"
The Baron meditated for a minute and then inquired--
"Vat of ze Maddisons?"
"Well, I gather that Mr. Maddison is erecting an ibis house in connection with the aviary. Ri has gone to Kamchatka, but hopes to be back by the 12th----"
"And Eleanor--no