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Believe me, my friends, there is no other way not to be turned out of paradise by a fiery, two-handed turning sword." "It is true," said Schmoff; "yes, it is true." "I believe you," said Doodles. "And how well the count describes it, don't he, Mr. Clavering? I never looked at it in that light; but, after all, digestion is everything. What is a horse worth, if he won't feed?"
There was a pause in the conversation for a minute or two, during which Schmoff and Doodles were very busy giving the required proof; and the count was leaning back in his chair with a smile of conscious wisdom on his face, looking as though he were in deep consideration of the subject on which he had just spoken with so much eloquence.
"There's just a little soup, printanier; yes, they can make soup here; then a cut of salmon and after that the beefsteak. Nothing more. Schmoff, my boy, can you eat beefsteak?" Schmoff neither smiled nor spoke, but simply bowed his head gravely, and sitting down, arranged with slow exactness his napkin over his waistcoat and lap.
Then Colonel Schmoff bowed, never yet having spoken a word in Harry's hearing, and our friend Doodles with glib volubility told Harry how intimate he was with Archie, and how he knew Sir Hugh, and how he had met Lady Clavering, and how "doosed" glad he was to meet Harry himself on this present occasion. "And now, my boys, we'll set down," said the count.
"Schmoff," said the count, "if we allow you to get behind the ramparts of that besieged city, we shall have to eat that horse for the rest of the evening. Captain Boodle, if you will believe me, I eat that horse once for two hours. Ah, here is the port wine. Now, Mr. Clavering, this is the wine for cheese '34.
"And now I am having my little moment of comfort! These special business conversations after dinner are so bad for the digestion!" "If I could have caught you before dinner, Count Pateroff, I would have done so." "If it must be, it must. Schmoff, will you wait for me ten minutes? I will not be more than ten minutes." And the count, as he made this promise, looked at his watch.
Then he bent down his head over the morsel of food on his plate, as though he were desirous of hiding a tear. "The man who cannot digest!" As he repeated the words he raised his head again, and looked round at all their faces. "Yes, yes; mein Gott, yes," said Schmoff, and even he appeared as though he were almost moved from the deep quietude of his inward indifference. "Ah; talk of blessings!
Pateroff was no longer eloquent, but sat with his cigar in his mouth as silent as Colonel Schmoff himself. It was evidently expected of Harry that he should go. "Count," he said at last, "you got my note?" There were seven or eight persons sitting in the room beside the party of three to which Harry belonged. "Your note, Mr. Clavering! which note?
Harry did not interrupt the silence, as, foolishly, he was allowing his mind to carry itself away from the scene of enjoyment that was present, and trouble itself with the coming battle which he would be obliged to fight with the count. Schmoff was the first to speak. "When I was eating a horse at Hamboro' " he began.
The count would sit there till he went, and had brought the Colonel Schmoff with him, so that he might be sure of some ally to remain by his side and ensure silence. And the count, doubtless, had calculated that when Captain Boodle went, as he soon would go, to his billiards, he, Harry Clavering, would feel himself compelled to go also. No! It should not result in that way.
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