"You have to visit your disreputable cousin on the sly, have you?" said
he.
Suddenly emerging from the wood, we came on a small and rude
hunting-lodge. It was a one-storey building, a sort of bungalow, built
entirely of wood. As we approached it, a little man in a plain livery
came out to meet us. The only other person I saw about the place was
a fat elderly woman, whom I afterwards discovered to be the mother of
Johann, the duke's keeper.
"Well, is dinner ready, Josef?" asked the King.
The little servant informed us that it was, and we soon sat down to a
plentiful meal. The fare was plain enough: the King ate heartily, Fritz
von Tarlenheim delicately, old Sapt voraciously. I played a good
knife and fork, as my custom is; the King noticed my performance with
approval.
"We're all good trenchermen, we Elphbergs," said he. "But what?--we're
eating dry! Wine, Josef! wine, man! Are we beasts, to eat without
drinking? Are we cattle, Josef?"
At this reproof Josef hastened to load the table with bottles.
"Remember tomorrow!" said Fritz.
"Ay--tomorrow!" said old Sapt.
The King drained a bumper to his "Cousin Rudolf," as he was gracious--or
merry--enough to call me; and I drank its fellow to the "Elphberg Red,"
whereat he laughed loudly.
Now, be the meat what it might, the wine we drank was beyond all price
or praise, and we did it justice.
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