"Anozzer bottle of claret," said the Baron, gruffly, to a waiter.

Mr Bunker let him consume it entirely by himself, awaiting the results with patience. Gradually his face relaxed a little, until all at once, when the b.u.mp in the bottom of the bottle was beginning to appear above the wine, the whole room was startled by a stentorian, "Ha, ha, ha!"

"My dear Bonker!" cried the Baron, when he had finished laughing, "forgif me! I begin for to see ze moral, ha, ha, ha!"

CHAPTER VI.

The Baron expressed no further wish for instruction, but, instead, he began to show a desire for society.

"Doesn't one fool suffice?" his friend asked.

"Ach, yes, my vise fool; ha, ha, ha! Bot sometimes I haf ze craving for peoples, museec, dancing-in vun vord, society, Bonker!"

"But this is not the season, Baron. You wouldn't mix with any but the best society, would you?"

"Zere are some n.o.bles in town. In my paper I see Lord zis, Duke of zat, in London. Pairhaps my introdogtions might be here now."

This suggestion seemed to strike Mr Bunker unfavourably.

"My company is beginning to pall, is it, Baron?"

"Ach, no, dear Bonker! I vould merely go out jost vunce or tvice. Haf you no friends now in town?"

An idea seemed to seize Mr Bunker.

"Let me see the paper," he said.

After perusing it carefully for a little, he at last exclaimed in a tone of pleased discovery, "Hullo! I see that Lady Tulliwuddle is giving a reception and dance to-night. Most of the smart people in town just now are sure to be there. Would you care to go, Baron?"

"Ach, surely," said the Baron, eagerly. "Bot haf you been invited, Bonker?"

"Oh, I used to have a standing invitation to Lady Tulliwuddle's dances, and I'm certain she would be glad to see me again."

"Can you take me?"

"Of course, my dear Baron, she will be honoured."

"Goot!" cried the Baron. "Ve shall go."

Mr Bunker explained that it was the proper thing to arrive very late, and so it was not until after twelve o'clock that they left the Hotel Mayonaise for the regions of Belgravia. The Baron, primed with a bottle of champagne, and arrayed in a costume which Mr Bunker had a.s.sured him was the very latest extreme of fashion, and which included a scarlet watered silk waistcoat, a pair of white silk socks, and a lavender tie, was in a condition of cheerfulness verging closely on hilarity. Mr Bunker, that, as he said, he might better serve as a foil to his friend's splendour, went more inconspicuously dressed, but was likewise well charged with champagne. He too was in his happiest vein, and the vision of the Baron's finery appeared to afford him peculiar gratification.

Their hansom stopped in front of a large and gaily lit-up mansion, with an awning leading to the door, and a cl.u.s.ter of carriages and footmen by the kerbstone. They entered, and having divested themselves of their coats, Mr Bunker proposed that they should immediately seek the supper-room.

"Bot should I not be first introduced to mine hostess?" asked the Baron.

"My dear Baron! a formal reception of the guests is entirely foreign to English etiquette."

"Zo? I did not know zat."

The supper-room was crowded, and having secured a table with some difficulty, Mr Bunker entered immediately into conversation with a solitary young gentleman who was consuming a plate of oysters. Before they had exchanged six sentences the young man had entirely succ.u.mbed to Mr Bunker's address, aided possibly by the young man's supper.

"Permit me to introduce my friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, a n.o.bleman strange as yet to England, but renowned throughout his native land alike for his talents and his lofty position," said Mr Bunker.

"Ach, my good friend," exclaimed the Baron, grasping the young man's hand, "das ist Bonker's vat you call nonsense; bot I am delighted, zehr delighted, to meet you, and if you gom to Bavaria you most shoot vid me!

Bravo! Ha!"

From which it may be gathered that the Baron was in a genial humour.

"Who is that girl?" asked Mr Bunker, pointing to an extremely pretty damsel just leaving the room.

"Oh, that's my cousin, Lady Muriel Hilton. She's thought rather pretty, I believe," answered the young man.

"Do you mind introducing me?"

"Certainly," said their new friend. "Come along."

As they were pa.s.sing through the room a little incident occurred that, if the Baron's perceptions had been keener, might have given him cause for some speculation. Two men standing by the door looked hard at Mr Bunker, and then at each other, and as the Baron pa.s.sed them he heard one say, "It looks devilish like him."

"He has shaved, then," said the other.

"Evidently," replied the first speaker; "but I thought he was unlikely to appear in any society for some time."

They both laughed, and the Baron heard no more.

When they reached the ballroom the band was striking up a polka, and presently Mr Bunker, with his accustomed grace, was tearing round the room with Lady Muriel, while the Baron-the delight of all eyes in his red waistcoat-led out her sister. In a very short time the other dancers found the Baron and his friend's onslaught so vigorous that prudence compelled them to take shelter along the wall, and from a safe distance admire the evolutions of these two mysterious guests.

Mr Bunker was enlivening the monotony of the polka by the judicious introduction of hornpipe steps, while the Baron, his coat-tails high above his head, shouted and stamped in his wild career.

"Do stop for a minute, Baron," gasped his fair partner.

"Himmel, nein!" roared the Baron. "I haf gom here for to dance! Ha, Bonker, ha!"

At last Lady Muriel had to stop through sheer exhaustion, but Mr Bunker, merely letting her go, pursued his solitary way, double-shuffling and kicking unimpeded.

The Baron stopped, breathless, to admire him. Round and round he went, the only figure in the middle of the room, his arms akimbo, his feet rat-tatting and kicking to the music, while high above the band resounded his friend's shouts of "Bravo, Bonker! Wunderschon! Gott in himmel, higher, higher!" till at length, missing the wall in an attempt to find support, the Baron dropped with a thud into a sitting posture and continued his demonstrations from the floor.

Meanwhile their alarmed hostess was holding a hasty consultation with her husband, and when the music at last stopped and Mr Bunker was advancing with his most courteous air towards his late partner, Lord Tulliwuddle stepped up to him and touched his arm.

"May I speak to you, sir?" he said.

"Certainly," replied Mr Bunker. "I shall be honoured. Excuse me for one moment, Lady Muriel."

"At whose invitation have you come here to-night?" demanded his host, sternly.

"I have the pleasure of addressing Lord Tulliwuddle, have I not?"