You can put it in the bill."
"I shall do so," said the baron gravely. "It shall be put in the
bill with other things."
"But why," drawled the prince, "does _la Baronne_ never favor
us with her company? Still very attractive--musical probably--here
is a piano--want good German music--console homesickness."
"Madame is indisposed," answered the baron quietly, "but you may
be sure she regrets your absence from home."
The officers looked at each other with half-tipsy, half-angry eyes.
They suspected a jest at their expense, but could not quite catch
it.
"Impudence," muttered the count, who was the sharper of the two
when sober.
"No," said the prince, "it is only stupidity. These Walloons have
no wit."
"Come," he added, turning to the baron, "we sing you a good song of
fatherland--show how _gemuthlich_ we Germans are. You Belgians
have no word for that. What?"
He sat down to the piano and pounded out _"Deutschland ueber
Alles,"_ singing the air in a raucous voice, while Ludra added
a rumbling bass.
"What do you think of that? All Germans can sing.
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