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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Whereas this Moldo-Wallachian at least that's what I gather from this letter is merely handsome in that cheap and obvious South-European way that is to say he has big, black eyes, probably liquid, and a large, probably flowing, moustache. Therefore I go to Buda-Pesth." "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with the same politeness and in the same ignorance of his reason for going.
When he had delivered the Esmeralda's gifts and assured Pollyooly of her prosperity, there came a short silence; then Pollyooly said: "And the Moldo-Wallachian, sir?" The fine grey eyes of the Honourable John Ruffin twinkled, as he said gravely: "The Moldo-Wallachian has returned to Moldo-Wallachia.
The little blue card, hanging above the cradle as in hospitals, set forth the nationality of the child within: "Moldo-Wallachian." What cursed luck that Monsieur le Secrétaire's eye should happen to light upon him!
When the ideal was once more clearly presented to the Esmeralda, the attractions of the Moldo-Wallachian faded as flowers fade in a drought." "I'm glad she isn't going to marry a foreigner," said Pollyooly with true patriotism. "She would never be happy in Moldo-Wallachia," said the Honourable John Ruffin with conviction. "Oh, no, sir," said Pollyooly.
"There's nothing for it: I must go to Buda-Pesth," he said with a resolute air. "There's nothing the matter with the Esmeralda, sir?" said Pollyooly with quick anxiety. "There's something very much the matter with the Esmeralda a Moldo-Wallachian," said the Honourable John Ruffin with stern coldness. "Is it an illness, sir?" said Pollyooly yet more anxiously.
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