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"My dear Marquis!" "A-a-h! I thought so; you have often said you would serve me, if possible." "My dear Marquis, be brief." "A-a-h! I will. There's a cursed crusty old Prussian officer here; one Colonel de Trumpetson." "Well, what can I do? you are surely not going to fight him!" "A-a-h! no, no; I wish you to speak to him." "Well, what?" "He takes snuff." "What is that to me?" "He has got a box."
"Well!" "It is a Louis-Quatorze; could not you get it for me?" "Good morning to you," said the Baron, pulling on Vivian. "You have had the pleasure, Grey, of meeting this afternoon two men who have each only one idea. Colonel von Trumpetson and the Marquis de la Tabatiere are equally tiresome. But are they more tiresome than any other man who always speaks on the same subject?
"My dear Colonel, who possibly expected to meet you here? Why! did you dine in the saloon? I only arrived this morning. This is my friend, Mr. Grey; Colonel von Trumpetson." "An Englishman, I believe?" said the Colonel, bowing. He was a starch militaire, with a blue frock coat buttoned up to his chin, a bald head with a few grey hairs, and long, thin mustachios like a mandarin's.
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