The Baron's Sons Part 6

"Well, Paul, what is there to eat to-day?" asked the captain, unbuckling his sword and hanging it up in his closet, which showed a collection of ancient swords and daggers.

The reader must here be informed that Paul was at once body-servant and cook to his young master.

"What is there to eat? A Greek rose-garland," answered the old servant, with humourous phlegm.

"Ah, that must be delicious," returned Richard; "but what is it made of?"

"Angels' slippers," was the reply.

"Excellent! And is it ready?"

Paul surveyed his master from top to toe. "Do we eat at home again to-day?" he asked.

"Yes, if we can get anything to eat."

"Very well; I will serve dinner at once," answered Paul, and he proceeded to spread the table--which was accomplished by turning its red cloth, ornamented with blue flowers, so that it became a blue cloth adorned with red flowers. Then he laid a plate of faience ware and a horn-handled knife and fork, together with an old-fashioned silver spoon, first wiping each article on a corner of the table-cloth. He completed these preparations by adding an old champagne-bottle filled, as the reader will have guessed, with cold water.

The cavalry captain pulled up a chair and seated himself comfortably, stretching his legs out under the table. Meanwhile Paul, his hands on his hips, thus addressed his master:

"So we are stranded again, are we,--not a kreutzer in our pockets?"

"Not a solitary one, as sure as you live," answered Richard, as he took up his knife and fork and began to beat a tattoo on his plate.

"But this morning I found two ducats in your vest pocket," remarked the old servant.

Captain Richard laughed and asked, in expressive pantomime: "Where are they now?"

"Good!" muttered the other, as he took up the decanter that stood before his master's plate and went out. Having brought it back filled with wine, which he had procured in some way, he set it down again and resumed his discourse.

"No doubt they went to buy a bouquet for a pretty girl," said he. "Or have the boys drunk them up in champagne?" With that he took up a plate with a sadly nicked edge from the sideboard and added, with philosophic resignation, as he went out: "Well, I was just that way when I was young." Soon he returned, bearing his master's dinner.

The "Greek rose-garland" proved to be a dish of beans, while the "angels' slippers," cooked with them, were nothing but pigs' feet. The old hussar had prepared the meal for himself, but there was enough for two, and Richard attacked the camp fare with as keen a relish as if he had never known anything better in his life. While he ate, his old servant stood behind his chair, although his services were not needed, as there were no plates to change, the first course being also the last.

"Has any one called?" asked Richard as he ate.

"Any one called? Why, yes, we have had some callers."

"Who were they?"

"First the maid-servant of the actress--not the blonde one, but the other, the pug-nosed one. She brought a bouquet and a letter. I stuck the flowers into a pitcher in the kitchen, gave the maid a pinch on the cheek, and kindled the fire with the letter."

"The deuce take you!" exclaimed Richard; "what made you burn up the letter?"

"It asked for money from the captain," was the reply.

"But how did you know that, Paul? I thought you couldn't read."

"I smelt it."

Richard laughed aloud. "Well, who else has been here?" he asked.

"The young gentleman." This t.i.tle was always used by Paul to designate one particular person.

"My brother? What did he wish?"

As if in answer to this inquiry, the young gentleman suddenly appeared in person.

The youngest Baradlay was a slender youth of frail physique. On his smooth, boyish face sat a somewhat affected expression of amiability, and if he carried his head rather high, it was not from pride, but on account of the eye-gla.s.ses which he wore on his nose. As he shook hands with his older brother, the latter was somehow reminded of the regulation that requires certain government officials, as a part of their duties, to show the utmost courtesy to every one--_ex officio_.

"Your servant, Jeno. What's up now?"

"I came to tell you," replied the other, "that I have received a letter from mother."

"I received one, too," said Richard.

"She informs me," continued Jeno, "that she is going to double my monthly allowance, and, in order to enable me to fit up my rooms as becomes one of my rank, she sends me a thousand florins."

"And she writes to me," said the older brother, "that if I continue to spend money as I have in the past, I shall soon run through my share of the property; and unless I am more economical she will send me no more funds."

"But my difficulty," rejoined the other, "is that if I begin now to spend a good deal of money, those over me will notice it. You can't imagine how one is made to suffer for it when once his superiors in the government service begin to suspect him of playing the independent gentleman. Really, I don't know what I shall do. Look here, Richard; do you know what I came for this morning? I came to share with you the money that mother sent me."

The other continued to chew his toothpick. "What interest?" he asked.

"Don't insult me with such a question!" protested Jeno.

"Then you offer to divide with me simply because you don't know how to spend the money yourself and want my help in getting rid of it? Good!

I am at your service."

"I thought you could make a better use of it than I," said the youth, handing over the half of his thousand florins, and pressing his brother's hand as he did so. "I have something else to give you also,"

he added, with a.s.sumed indifference,--"an invitation to the Plankenhorsts' reception to-morrow evening."

Richard rested his elbows on the table and regarded his brother with a satirical smile. "How long have you been acting as advertising agent of the Plankenhorst receptions?" he asked.

"They begged me most cordially to invite you in their name," returned the other, moving uneasily in his chair.

Richard laughed aloud. "So that is the usury I am to pay?" said he.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Jeno, with vexation, rising from his seat.

"I mean that you would like to pay your court to Miss Alfonsine if her mother, who considers you a very raw youth as yet, were not in the way. Madame Antoinette herself claims to be not devoid of personal charms, and, if her _friseur_ is to be believed, she is still a beautiful woman. When I was in the guard I used to dance with her often at the masked b.a.l.l.s, and I recognised her under her domino more than once when she mistook me for an acquaintance and fell to chatting with me. You know all that very well, and you say to yourself: 'I'll take my brother along as elephant.' All right, brother; never fear, I am not going to hand back the five hundred florins. Your charges are high, but I'll be your elephant. Climb up on my back, and while you beguile the daughter I will keep the mother amused. But first I must impose one condition. If you really want my company at the reception, do me the favour to intercede with your chief on behalf of a poor priest who has been summoned to Vienna. Have him sent home in peace. I don't need to tell you he is our pastor at Nemes...o...b.. and he has been set upon because of the funeral prayer he saw fit to make."

"How did you learn all that?" asked Jeno, in surprise.

"Oh, I picked it up," replied the other; "and I tell you he is an honest man. Let him go."

Jeno a.s.sumed his official expression of countenance. "But really,"

said he, "I have reason to know that the chancellor is greatly incensed against him."

"Come, come!" cried the elder brother, impatiently; "don't try to impose on me with your great men. I have seen any number of them, in all sorts of undress, and I know that they are built just like other mortals,--eat and drink, yawn and snore exactly like the rest of mankind. Your great magistrate wrinkles his brow, talks in a harsh tone to the innocent victim before him, and when he has let him go, the mighty man laughs aloud at the terrible fright he gave the poor wretch. This priest is an honest fellow, but his tongue sometimes runs away with him. Yet he is a servant of G.o.d, and he must be allowed to depart in peace. May he long minister to his little flock!"