applause._)

BOX.

Yah. (_Aside._) That's more like a nigger. (_Aloud._) On second
thoughts, nein.

WAITER.

Vill you your name in dese book write? (_Presenting visitors' book._)

BOX.

I will. (_Writes._) Don Jose John de Boxos Cazadores Regalias, Spain.

WAITER.

Dank you, milor!

[_Exit WAITER C._

BOX.

We know what we are, but we never know what we shall be. I am not quite
clear at present, by the way, what I am, let alone what I _shall_ be. If
anybody three months ago had said to me, "Box, my boy, you are a grandee
of Spain" ... I should have said that he was a ... in point of fact I
shouldn't have believed him. But still I am--that is, partially so--I'm
gradually becoming one. At present I'm only half a grandee. Three months
ago a friend, my legal adviser, a law stationer's senior clerk, near
Chancery Lane, said to me, "Box, my boy, you've got Spanish blood in
you." I said that I had suspected as much from my peculiar and extreme
partiality for the vegetable called a Spanish onion, and I was going to
a doctor, when my friend and legal adviser said to me, "Box, my boy, I
don't mean _that_. I mean that your great grandmother was of Spanish
extraction." I replied that I had heard that they had extracted my great
grandmother from that quarter, "I came across some papers," continued my
legal adviser, "which allude to her as Donna Isidora y Caballeros,
Carvalhos y Cazadores y Regalias, Salamanca, Spain, who married John
Box, trader, of Eliza Lane, St. Margaret's Wharf, Wapping. Date and all
correct. Go," says he--I mean my legal adviser--"go to Spain, and claim
your title, your estates, and your money, and I'll stand in with you,
and take half the profits." I was struck by this remarkably handsome
offer, and went down to Margate to cultivate a Spanish moustache and
think about it. Whenever I want to think about anything deeply, I go
down to Margate. Well, one morning as I was examining the progress of my
moustache, after shaving my chin and letting out some of the blue blood
of the Hidalgos in a most tremendous gash, judge of my astonishment,
when, walking on the beach, in among the donkeys and the Ethiopian
serenaders, I saw in widow's weeds, as majestic as ever, Penelope Anne!
(_Sings_) "I saw her for a moment, but methinks I see her now, with the
wreath of--something or other--upon her--something brow"----and then I
lost sight of her. But my Span