It blows fogs, foul vapours, joint-stiffnesses, agues, pestilences, over us here,--yes, here! That is your best side: but your worst is too atrocious! Mon Dieu! Your men-rascals! Your women-rascals!' 'Good soul!' the princess arrested her, 'I beg that you will not abuse England.' 'Have I abused England ?' exclaimed the margravine.

'Nay, then, it was because England is shockingly unjust to the most amusing, the most reviving, charming of men.

There is he fresh as a green bubbling well, and those English decline to do honour to his source.

Now tell me, you!' She addressed me imperiously.

'Are you prosecuting his claims?
Are you besieging your Government?
What! you are in the season of generosity, an affectionate son, wealthy as a Magyar prince of flocks, herds, mines, and men, and you let him stand in the shade deprived of his birthright?
Are you a purse-proud commoner or an imbecile ?' 'My whimsy aunt!' the princess interposed again, 'now you have taken to abusing a defenceless Englishman.' 'Nothing of the sort, child.