Vavel, believing that his visitor was inclined to be sarcastic. "I do
not attend your meetings because I look upon the entire law as a
jest--mere child's play. It begins with the mental reservation, 'The
Hungarian noble militia will be called into service _only_ in case of
imminent danger of an attack from a foreign enemy, and then only if the
attacking army be so powerful that the regular imperial troops shall be
unable to withstand it!' That the enemy is the more powerful no
commander-in-chief finds out until he has been thoroughly whipped! The
mission of the Hungarian noble militia, therefore, is to move into the
field--untrained for service--when the regular troops find they cannot
cope with a superior foe! This is utterly ridiculous! And, moreover,
what sort of an organization must that be in which 'all nobles who have
an income of more than three thousand guilders shall become cavalry
soldiers, those having less shall become foot-soldiers'? The money-bag
decides the question between cavalry and infantry! Again, 'every village
selects its own trooper, and equips him.' A fine squadron they will
make! And to think of sending such a crew into the field against
soldiers who have won their epaulets under the baptismal fires of
battle! Again, to wage war requires money first of all; and this fact
has been entirely ignored by the authorities. You have no money,
gentlemen; do you propose that the noble militia host shall march only
so long as the supply of food in their knapsacks holds out? Are they to
return home when the provisions shall have given out? Never fear, Herr
Vice-palatine! when it becomes necessary to shoulder arms and march
against the enemy, I shall be among the first to respond to the first
call. But I have no desire to be even a spectator of a comedy, much less
take part in one. But let us not discuss this farce any further. I
fancy, Herr Vice-palatine, we may be able to find a more sensible
subject for discussion. There is a quiet little nook in this old castle
where are to be found some excellent wines, and some of the best latakia
you--"

"What?" with lively interest interrupted the vice-palatine. "Latakia?
Why, that is tobacco."

"Certainly--and Turkish tobacco, too, at that!" responded Count Vavel.
"Come, we will retire to this nook, empty one glass after another, enjoy
a smoke, and tell anecdotes without end!"

"Then you do smoke, Herr Count?"

"Certainly; but I never smoke anywhere but in the