Count Bunker

  Produced by Charles Keller

  COUNT BUNKER

  Being A Bald Yet Veracious Chronicle Containing Some Further ParticularsOf Two Gentlemen Whose Previous Careers Were Touched Upon In A TomeEntitled "The Lunatic At Large"

  By J. Storer Clouston

  COUNT BUNKER

  CHAPTER I

  It is only with the politest affectation of interest, as a rule,that English Society learns the arrival in its midst of an ordinaryContinental nobleman; but the announcement that the Baron Rudolph vonBlitzenberg had been appointed attache to the German embassy at theCourt of St. James was unquestionably received with a certain flutter ofexcitement. That his estates were as vast as an average English county,and his ancestry among the noblest in Europe, would not alone perhapshave arrested the attention of the paragraphists, since acres andforefathers of foreign extraction are rightly regarded as conferringat the most a claim merely to toleration. But in addition to thesehe possessed a charming English wife, belonging to one of themost distinguished families in the peerage (the Grillyers ofMonkton-Grillyer), and had further demonstrated his judgment bypurchasing the winner of the last year's Derby, with a view to improvingthe horse-flesh of his native land.

  From a footnote attached to the engraving of the Baron in a Homburg hatholding the head of the steed in question, which formed the principalattraction in several print-sellers' windows in Piccadilly, one gatheredthat though his faculties had been cultivated and exercised in everyconceivable direction, yet this was his first serious entrance into thediplomatic world. There was clearly, therefore, something unusualabout the appointment; so that it was rumored, and rightly, that aninternational importance was to be attached to the incident, and adelicate compliment to be perceived in the selection of so popular alink between the Anglo-Saxon and the Teutonic peoples. Accordingly "DieWacht am Rhein" was played by the Guards' band down the entire lengthof Ebury Street, photographs of the Baroness appeared in all the leadingperiodicals, and Society, after its own less demonstrative but equallysincere fashion, prepared to welcome the distinguished visitors.

  They arrived in town upon a delightful day in July, somewhat late inthe London season, to be sure, yet not too late to be inundated with asnowstorm of cards and invitations to all the smartest functions thatremained. For the first few weeks, at least, you would suppose the Baronto have no time for thought beyond official receptions and unofficialdinners; yet as he looked from his drawing-room windows into the gardensof Belgrave Square upon the second afternoon since they had settled intothis great mansion, it was not upon such functions that his fancy ran.Nobody was more fond of gaiety, nobody more appreciative of purple andfine linen, than the Baron von Blitzenberg; but as he mused there hebegan to recall more and more vividly, and with an ever rising pleasure,quite different memories of life in London. Then by easy stages regretbegan to cloud this reminiscent satisfaction, until at last he sighed--

  "Ach, my dear London! How moch should I enjoy you if I were free!"

  For the benefit of those who do not know the Baron either personally orby repute, he may briefly be described as an admirably typical Teuton.When he first visited England (some five years previously) he stoodfor Bavarian manhood in the flower; now, you behold the fruit. Asmagnificently mustached, as ruddy of skin, his eye as genial, and hisimpulses as hearty; he added to-day to these two more stone of Teutonicexcellences incarnate.

  In his ingenuous glance, as in the more rounded contour of hiswaistcoat, you could see at once that fate had dealt kindly with him.Indeed, to hear him sigh was so unwonted an occurrence that the Baronesslooked up with an air of mild surprise.

  "My dear Rudolph," said she, "you should really open the window. You areevidently feeling the heat."

  "No, not ze heat," replied the Baron.

  He did not turn his head towards her, and she looked at him moreanxiously.

  "What is it, then? I have noticed a something strange about you eversince we landed at Dover. Tell me, Rudolph!"

  Thus adjured, he cast a troubled glance in her direction. He saw a facewhose mild blue eyes and undetermined mouth he still swore by as thestandard by which to try all her inferior sisters, and a figure whosegrowing embonpoint yearly approached the outline of his ideal hausfrau.But it was either St. Anthony or one of his fellow-martyrs who observedthat an occasional holiday from the ideal is the condiment in thesauce of sanctity; and some such reflection perturbed the Baron at thismoment.

  "It is nozing moch," he answered.

  "Oh, I know what it is. You have grown so accustomed to seeing the samepeople, year after year--the Von Greifners, and Rosenbaums, and allthose. You miss them, don't you? Personally, I think it a very goodthing that you should go abroad and be a diplomatist, and not stay inFogelschloss so much; and you'll soon make loads of friends here. Mothercomes to us next week, you know."

  "Your mozzer is a nice old lady," said the Baron slowly. "I respect her,Alicia; bot it vas not mozzers zat I missed just now."

  "What was it?"

  "Life!" roared the Baron, with a sudden outburst of thunderingenthusiasm that startled the Baroness completely out of her composure."I did have fun for my money vunce in London. Himmel, it is too hot toeat great dinners and to vear clothes like a monkey-jack."

  "Like a what?" gasped the Baroness.

  To hear the Baron von Blitzenberg decry the paraphernalia and splendorsof his official liveries was even more astonishing than his remarkabledenunciation of the pleasures of the table, since to dress as wellas play the part of hereditary grandee had been till this minute hisconstant and enthusiastic ambition.

  "A meat-jack, I mean--or a--I know not vat you call it. Ach, I vant aleetle fun, Alicia."

  "A little fun," repeated the Baroness in a breathless voice. "What kindof fun?"

  "I know not," said he, turning once more to stare out of the window.

  To this dignified representative of a particularly dignified Stateeven the trees of Belgrave Square seemed at that moment a trifle tooconventionally perpendicular. If they would but dance and wave theirboughs he would have greeted their greenness more gladly. A good-lookingnursemaid wheeled a perambulator beneath their shade, and though shenever looked his way, he took a wicked pleasure in surreptitiouslyclosing first one eye and then the other in her direction. This mightnot entirely satisfy the aspirations of his soul, yet it seemed to serveas some vent for his pent-up spirit. He turned to his spouse with apleasantly meditative air.

  "I should like to see old Bonker vunce more," he observed.

  "Bunker? You mean Mr. Mandell-Essington?" said she, with an apprehensivenote in her voice.

  "To me he vill alvays be Bonker."

  The Baroness looked at him reproachfully.

  "You promised me, Rudolph, you would see as little as possible of Mr.Essington."

  "Oh, ja, as leetle--as possible," answered the Baron, though not withhis most ingenuous air. "Besides, it is tree years since I promised.For tree years I have seen nozing. My love Alicia, you vould not have meforget mine friends altogezzer?"

  But the Baroness had too vivid a recollection of their last (and only)visit to England since their marriage. By a curious coincidence thatalso was three years ago.

  "When you last met you remember what happened?" she asked, with anominous hint of emotion in her accents.

  "My love, how often have I eggsplained? Zat night you mean, I didschleep in mine hat because I had got a cold in my head. I vas notdronk, no more zan you. Vat you found in my pocket vas a mere joke,and ze cabman who called next day vas jost vat I told him to his oglyface--a blackmail."

  "You gave him money to go away."

  "A Blitzenberg does not bargain mit cabmen," said the Baron loftily.

  His wife's spirits began to revive. There seemed to speak the ow
ner ofFogelschloss, the haughty magnate of Bavaria.

  "You have too much self-respect to wish to find yourself in such aposition again," she said. "I know you have, Rudolph!"

  The Baron was silent. This appeal met with distinctly less response thanshe confidently counted upon. In a graver note she inquired--

  "You know what mother thinks of Mr. Essington?"

  "Your mozzer is a vise old lady, Alicia; but we do not zink ze same onall opinions."

  "She will be exceedingly displeased if you--well, if you do anythingthat she THOROUGHLY disapproves of."

  The Baron left the window and took his wife's plump hand affectionatelywithin his own broad palm.

  "You can assure her, my love, zat I shall never do vat she dislikes. Youvill say zat to her if she inquires?"

  "Can I, truthfully?"

  "Ach, my own dear!"

  From his enfolding arms she whispered tenderly--

  "Of course I will, Rudolph!"

  With a final hug the embrace abruptly ended, and the Baron hastilyglanced at his watch.

  "Ach, nearly had I forgot! I must go to ze club for half an hour."

  "Must you?"

  "To meet a friend."

  "What friend?" asked the Baroness quickly.

  "A man whose name you vould know vell--oh, vary vell known he is! Butin diplomacy, mine Alicia, a quiet meeting in a club is sometimes betternot to be advertised too moch. Great wars have come from one vordof indiscretion. You know ze axiom of Bismarck--'In diplomacy it isnecessary for a diplomatist to be diplomatic.' Good-by, my love."

  He bowed as profoundly as if she were a reigning sovereign, blew anaffectionate kiss as he went through the door, and then descended thestairs with a rapidity that argued either that his appointment wasurgent or that diplomacy shrank from a further test within this mansion.