arvellously
quick in understanding that I was to be accepted as his heir, and, after
himself, the person of most consideration there.

Besides the three individuals I have already mentioned, our party
included two foreigners,--Baron Steinmetz, an aide-de-camp of the King,
and an Italian duke, San Giovanni. The Duke sat on my father's right,
the Baron on mine. The conversation during dinner was in French, which I
followed imperfectly, and was considerably relieved on discovering that
the German spoke French with difficulty, and blundered over his genders
as hopelessly as I should have done had I attempted to talk. "Ach Gott,"
muttered he to himself in German, "when people were seeking for a common
language, why did n't they take one that all humanity could pronounce?"

"So meine ich auch, Herr Baron," cried I; "I quite agree with you."

He turned towards me with a look of-positive affection, on seeing I knew
German, and we both began to talk together at once with freedom.

"What's the boy saying?" cried my father, as he caught the sounds of
some glib speech of mine. "Don't let him bore you with his bad French,
Steinmetz."

"He is charming me with his admirable German," said the Baron. "I can't
tell when I have met a more agreeable companion."

This was, of course, a double flattery, for my German was very bad, and
my knowledge on any subject no better; but the fact did not diminish the
delight the praise afforded me.

"Do you know German, Digby?" asked my father.

"A little,--a very little, sir."

"The fellow would say he knew Sanscrit if you asked him," whispered
Hotham to Eccles; but my sharp ears overheard him.

"Come, that's better than I looked for," said my father. "What do you
say, Eccles? Is there stuff there?"

"Plenty, Sir Roger; enough and to spare. I count on Digby to do me great
credit yet."

"What career do you mean your son to follow?" asked the Italian, while
he nodded to me over his wine-glass in most civil recognition.

"I'll not make a sailor of him, like that sea-wolf yonder; nor a
diplomatist, like my silent friend in the corner. Neither shall he be a
soldier till British armies begin to do something better than hunt out
illicit stills and protect process-servers."

"A politician, perhaps?"

"Certainly not, sir. There 's no credit in belonging to a Parliament
brought down to the meridian of soap-boilers and bankrupt bill-brokers."

"There's the Church, Sir Roger," chimed in Eccles.