ut, and a pied-a-terre near Innsbruck. For Tyrol
lacked just one joy--the sea. He was a passionate yachtsman. For
that he had resolved to sell this estate; after all, three country
houses, a ship, and a mansion in Vienna, are more than one man can
comfortably inhabit.

"Exactly," Charles answered. "If I can come to terms with you about
this charming estate I shall sell my own castle in the Scotch
Highlands." And he tried to look like a proud Scotch chief who
harangues his clansmen.

Then they got to business. The Count was a delightful man to do
business with. His manners were perfect. While we were talking to
him, a surly person, a steward or bailiff, or something of the sort,
came into the room unexpectedly and addressed him in German, which
none of us understand. We were impressed by the singular urbanity
and benignity of the nobleman's demeanour towards this sullen
dependant. He evidently explained to the fellow what sort of
people we were, and remonstrated with him in a very gentle way for
interrupting us. The steward understood, and clearly regretted his
insolent air; for after a few sentences he went out, and as he did
so he bowed and made protestations of polite regard in his own
language. The Count turned to us and smiled. "Our people," he said,
"are like your own Scotch peasants--kind-hearted, picturesque, free,
musical, poetic, but wanting, helas, in polish to strangers." He
was certainly an exception, if he described them aright; for he made
us feel at home from the moment we entered.

He named his price in frank terms. His lawyers at Meran held the
needful documents, and would arrange the negotiations in detail with
us. It was a stiff sum, I must say--an extremely stiff sum; but no
doubt he was charging us a fancy price for a fancy castle. "He will
come down in time," Charles said. "The sum first named in all these
transactions is invariably a feeler. They know I'm a millionaire;
and people always imagine millionaires are positively made of
money."

I may add that people always imagine it must be easier to squeeze
money out of millionaires than out of other people--which is the
reverse of the truth, or how could they ever have amassed their
millions? Instead of oozing gold as a tree oozes gum, they mop it
up like blotting-paper, and seldom give it out again.

We drove back from this first interview none the less very well
satisfied. The price was too high; but preliminaries were arranged,
and for th