ce, as, foolishly, he was allowing his mind to carry
itself away from the scene of enjoyment that was present, and trouble
itself with the coming battle which he would be obliged to fight with
the count. Schmoff was the first to speak. "When I was eating a horse at
Hamboro'--" he began.

"Schmoff," said the count, "if we allow you to get behind the ramparts
of that besieged city, we shall have to eat that horse for the rest of
the evening. Captain Boodle, if you will believe me, I eat that horse
once for two hours. Ah, here is the port wine. Now, Mr. Clavering, this
is the wine for cheese--'34. No man should drink above two glasses of
'34. if you want port after that, then have '20."

Schmoff had certainly been hardly treated. He had scarcely spoken a word
during dinner, and should, I think, have been allowed to say something
of the flavor of the horse. It did not, however, appear from his
countenance that he had felt, or that he resented the interference;
though he did not make any further attempt to enliven the conversation.

They did not sit long over their wine, and the count, in spite of what
he had said about the claret, did not drink any. "Captain Boodle," he
said, "you must respect my weakness as well as my strength. I know what
I can do, and what I cannot. If I were a real hero, like you
English--which means, if I had an ostrich in my inside--I would drink
till twelve every night, and eat broiled bones till six every morning.
But alas! the ostrich has not been given to me. As a common man I am
pretty well, but I have no heroic capacities. We will have a little
chasse, and then we will smoke."

Harry began to be very nervous. How was he to do it? It had become
clearer and clearer to him through every ten minutes of the dinner, that
the count did not intend to give him any moment for private
conversation. He felt that he was cheated and ill-used, and was waxing
angry. They were to go and smoke in a public room, and he knew, or
thought he knew, what that meant. The count would sit there till he
went, and had brought the Colonel Schmoff with him, so that he might be
sure of some ally to remain by his side and ensure silence. And the
count, doubtless, had calculated that when Captain Boodle went, as he
soon would go, to his billiards, he, Harry Clavering, would feel himself
compelled to go also. No! It should not result in that way. Harry
resolved that he would not go. He had his mission to perform and he
would