"But if you have not danced enough, I
shall be happy to take a turn with you round the room."
The poor Count would, indeed, have been no match for his adversary without
the assistance of his friends. He possessed that sort of courage which,
when stung into activity by an insult, takes no account whatever of the
consequences, and his thin frame was animated by very excitable nerves.
But an exceedingly lean diet, and the habit of sitting during many hours
in a close atmosphere, rolling tobacco with his fingers, did not
constitute such a physical training as to make him a match for a rough
fellow whose occupation consisted in tramping long distances and up and
down long flights of stairs from morning till night, loaded with more or
less heavy burdens. He was now very pale and his heart beat painfully as
he endeavoured instinctively to smooth his long frock-coat, from which a
button had been torn out by the roots in a very apparent place, and to
settle his starched collar, which at the best of times owed its stability
to the secret virtues of a pin, and which at present had made a quarter of
a revolution upon itself, so that the stiffly-starched corners, the
Count's chief coquetry and pride, had established themselves in an
unseemly manner immediately below the left ear.
Meanwhile, the little restaurant was in an uproar. The host, a thin, pale
man in an apron and a shabby embroidered cap, had suddenly appeared from
the depths of the taproom, accompanied by his wife, a monstrous, red-faced
creature clothed in a grey flannel frock.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82