under the misconception that he is summoning them to admire the
sunset; the sunset is their evening excitement, and DONNERWITZ can be
sentimental in his calmer moments; but no "_Wie wunder, wunderschön!_"
escapes him; a Saxon word, that even they can understand, is on his
lips; the ring on his forefinger gleams luridly; bang, bang, bang; he
opens fire; down go the windows, and DONNERWITZ resumes his seat of
war, his napkin waving like a standard before him. It is now my turn;
I don't like it; but my co-conspirators expect me to maintain the
honour of our country: ADOLF cannot be trusted further; I advance
furtively; the eyes of Europe are upon me; one by one I open them
again and subside; a terrible silence supervenes. What next?--that is
the question!

But DONNERWITZ is not only a MOLTKE, he is also a BISMARCK; flushed
and moist with exertion, he has foreseen this move; it is the hour of
that inevitable "_Bavaroise_"; the fork has succeeded to the knife:
his mouth is at last free to confabulate with his neighbour--the Lady
from Chicago.

"Wal, I call that slap-up rude," I hear her remark. "In Amur'ca we
should just hev' him removed; but Englishmen are built that way; they
fancy, I s'pose, they discovered CO-LUMBUS;" and then DONNERWITZ
leans over the table and, grasping the united weapons of fork,
knife, and spoon, addresses me with effervescent deliberation.
"Pardon,--Mister,--but--dis--leddy,--haf--gatarrh; in a Sherman
shentleman's house--most--keep--first--de--leddy zimmer; so!" I
don't fully understand, but I feel that my chivalry is impugned. My
confederates, too, round upon me; "Of course," they whisper, "had no
idea the lady was an invalid." The brutes! I stutter an apology, and
"climb down;" the windows are again hermetically sealed; and, as I