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Updated: June 16, 2025
Depression, jealousy, repentance, qualms, and all other shackles of the spirit whatsoever, had fled discomfited. Now at last he saw his late exploits in their true heroic proportions, and realized his marvellous good fortune in satisfying his aspirations so gloriously. Raising his glass once more, he cried "Dear Bonker, my heart he does go out to you! Ach, you have given me soch a treat.
“Here you are, Baron,” he said, as he came up to his friend. “I find there is something else I must do, so do you mind holding this bag for a few minutes? If you will walk up and down in front of the refreshment-rooms here, I’ll find you more easily. Is it troubling you too much?” “Not vun bit, Bonker. I am in your sairvice.”
“I am Mr Mandell-Essington, Baron.” The Baron looked at the other two in turn with wide-open eyes. Then he turned indignantly upon Welsh. “You were impostor zen, sare? You gom to my house and call yourself a gentleman, and impose upon me, and tell of your family and your estates. You, a low—er—er—vat you say?—a low cad! Bonker, I cannot sit at ze same table viz zese persons!” He rose as he spoke.
“My dear Baron,” his friend explained gaily, “these practical jokes are very common in our clubs. They are quite part of our national life, you know, and I thought you ought to see everything.” The Baron said nothing, but he began to realise that he was indeed in a foreign country. “Vell, Bonker, vat show to-day?” said the Baron. Mr Bunker sipped his coffee and smiled back at his friend.
Good night!” he cried, waving his hand to the room generally. “Ven you gom to Bavaria you most all shoot vid me. Bravo, my goot Bonker! Ha! ha!” As they turned away from the table, one of the young men, who had been looking very hard at Mr Bunker, rose and touched his sleeve. “I say, aren’t you——?” he began.
His artful eloquence seemed to impress his friend, for he smiled thoughtfully and did not reply at once. More persuasively than ever the Baron continued "I do believe mit patience and mit er mit kindness, Bonker, I might persuade Miss Gallosh to listen to ze proposal of Tollyvoddle. And vould it not be better far to get him a lady of his own people, and not a stranger from America?
The Baron smiled a little foolishly. “I haf ze illusions, I fear.” Then he broke out enthusiastically, “Ach, bot is she not lofly, Bonker? If she will bot lof me back I shall be ze happiest man out of heaven!” “You have wasted no time, Baron.” The Baron shook his head in melancholy pleasure. “You are quite sure it is really love this time?” his friend pursued.
Now that the kilt lay ready to his hand he could not be persuaded even to look at it. In gloomy silence he donned his conventional evening dress and announced, last thing before they left their room "Bonker, say no more! To-morrow morning I depart!" But Mrs.
At last the silence grew so intolerable that he screwed up his courage and with desperate resolution exclaimed, “Bonker!” Mr Bunker opened his eyes and sat up. “Bonker, I am in loff!” Mr Bunker smiled and stretched himself out again. “I have also been in love,” he replied. “You are not now?” “Alas! no.” “Vy alas?” “Because follies without illusions get so infernally dull, Baron.”
At an hour considerably past midnight, hearing an excited summons from the Baron's bedroom, he laid down his toothbrush and hastened across the passage, to find the new peer in a crimson dressing-gown of quilted silk gazing enthusiastically at a lithograph that hung upon the wall. "See!" he cried gleefully, "here is my own ancestor. Bonker, I feel I am Tollyvoddle indeed."
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