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Updated: May 27, 2025
I'd never stated my full opinion of Fletcher Shaw to a soul before; but somehow old Von was so friendly and sympathetic that I cut loose. The Baron ground his teeth over it. He said that Fletcher should have been caught young and shot from a cannon. Good old Von Blatzer! Wanted me to go back to Vienna as the Baroness. Think of it me! But I was having a good season.
"And before the end of the month she'll be the Baroness Von Blatzer. Changed? Why, I hardly recognized her myself after her first day's shopping! She must have been quite a beauty once. But what a wreck she was when " "When she chased you with the broom, eh?" says I, chucklin'. "And now you're as chesty over her as though you'd been workin' a miracle. Just beamin' for joy, you are!"
Besides, I didn't think I could stand for a wig. I didn't know how much I was going to miss him." "You wouldn't shy at the wig now, eh?" says I. "Would I?" says she. "Honest, I liked Von Blatzer, for all his freaky ways. He was human, he was, and we understood each other. He'll be at Monte Carlo now. Roulette, you know. That's all he lives for. Plays a system.
"But most everyone has a friend or so somewhere," says I. At first that don't make any impression at all. Then all of a sudden she sits up and gazes vague over the top of my head. "There's the Baron!" says she. "The which?" says I. "Von Blatzer," says she. "Oh, he's a real Baron, all right; an odd-looking, dried up little chap with a wig and painted eyebrows. Yet he's hardly sixty.
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