are old enough to be her grandfather."

"Not old enough to be in my dotage,--as I should be if I permitted my
son to marry a beggarly Italian,--nor too old to punish impertinence as
it deserves," retorted the Graf.

"Your son? You are the father then? It is all the same to me. I will
fight you both. But the marriage shall take place first."

"It shall not."

"It shall."

"Insolent slave of an Italian, I will make you eat your words!"

"Triple brute of a German, I spit upon you!"

"Silence, sir!"

"Silence yourself!"

During this animated dialogue I sat apart, softly rubbing my hands. What
a happy dispensation it would be, I could not help thinking, if these
two old madmen were to exterminate each other, like the Kilkenny cats!
Anyhow, their attention was effectually diverted from my humble person,
and that was something to be thankful for.

Never before had I been privileged to listen to so rich a vocabulary of
vituperation. Each disputant had expressed himself, after the first few
words, in his own language, and between them they were now making hubbub