“A volcanic eruption may inspire one to succor humanity, a wedding to condole with it, and a general election to warn it of its folly; but the Baron inspires one to amuse!”

Meanwhile that Heaven-sent nobleman, with a manner enshrouded in mystery, was comforting his wife.

“Ah, do not grieve, mine Alicia!  No doubt ze Duke vill be disappointed not to see us to-night, but I have telegraphed.  Ja, I have said I had so important an affair.  Ach, do not veep!  I did not know you wanted so moch to dine mit ze old Duke.  I sopposed you vould like a quiet evening at home.  But anyhow I have now telegraphed—­and my leetle dinner mit my friend—­Ach, it is so important zat I most rosh and get dressed.  Cheer up, my loff!  Good-by!”

He paused in answer to a tearful question.

“His name?  Alas, I have promised not to say.  You vould not have a European war by my indiscretion?”

CHAPTER III

With mirrors reflecting a myriad lights, with the hum of voices, the rustle of satin and lace, the hurrying steps of waiters, the bubbling of laughter, of life, and of wine—­all these on each side of them, and a plate, a foaming glass, and a friend in front, the Baron and his host smiled radiantly down upon less favored mortals.

“Tulliwuddle is very late,” said Essington; “but he’s a devilish casual gentleman in all matters.”

“I am selfish enoff to hope he vill not gom at all!” exclaimed the Baron.

“Unfortunately he has had the doubtful taste to conceive a curiously high opinion of myself.  I am afraid he won’t desert us.  But I don’t propose that we shall suffer for his slackness.  Bring the fish, waiter.”

The Baron was happy; and that is to say that his laughter re-echoed from the shining mirrors, his tongue was loosed, his heart expanded, his glass seemed ever empty.

“Ach, how to make zis joie de vivre to last beyond to-night!” he cried.  “May ze Teufel fly off mit of offeecial duties and receptions and—­and even mit my vife for a few days.”

“My dear Baron!”

“To Alicia!” cried the Baron hastily, draining his glass at the toast.  “But some fun first!”

" ’I could not love thee, dear, so well,
Loved I not humor more!’ "

misquoted his host gaily.  “Ah!” he added, “here comes Tulliwuddle.”

A young man, with his hands in his pockets and an eyeglass in his eye, strolled up to their table.

“I’m beastly sorry for being so late,” said he; “but I’m hanged if I could make up my mind whether to risk wearing one of these frilled shirt-fronts.  It’s not bad, I think, with one’s tie tied this way.  What do you say?”

“It suits you like a halo,” Essington assured him.  “But let me introduce you to my friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.”